“Then is the reason you struggle so desperately to live—enough to sell out others—that daughter of yours and her father? Do you believe that man will come to save you?”

“I—I don’t understand what meaning this conversation even has…”

“I need to know, in case some madman decides to charge in here for revenge on your behalf.”

So that was it.

McClart seemed worried that someone might try to break Vienny out.

Finally understanding this, Vienny let out a hollow breath.

Rave Castle was a fortress, heavily garrisoned with soldiers. Its defenses were far too formidable for anyone to storm in and rescue a Great Witch under strict surveillance. McClart himself knew this, so it was laughable that he was even entertaining such concerns.

“If there were someone willing to do that, they would have done it long ago.”

McClart had been away from the castle countless times. There had been more than enough opportunities for trouble to arise, had anyone truly intended it.

There was no way McClart didn’t understand that.

“True,” he said, nodding slowly.

“Since the day we captured you, not a single person has attempted to save you.”

Beneath his even tone lay a thin layer of irritation. The grip holding her chin tightened, the pressure increasing little by little.

“And yet—you still long for the man who abandoned you?”

At that, Vienny stared at him blankly.

He was displeased.

Displeased by the fact that she was longing for someone.

“Who I miss—what does that have to do with you, Inquisitor?”

As she spoke, Vienny felt a faint stirring in her chest. She didn’t fully understand her reaction, but she had a vague premonition that something dangerous was afoot.

McClart, seemingly unaware or unconcerned by her inner turmoil, remained visibly irritated throughout.

“It becomes a problem if you stir up my castle with foolish hopes.”

“Since being brought here, I’ve caused no trouble at all. The only ones who’ve touched me are everyone else in this castle.”

“…Did Doctor Pepin touch you again?”

The sharpness in McClart’s voice was unmistakable, his expression dark and dangerous.

Yet even so—Vienny was not afraid.

She recognized a familiar silhouette in the man standing before her, threatening her now.

The process was different—but the person at the center was the same.

So instead of fear, what she felt was familiarity.

“‘Everyone’ includes you as well, Inquisitor.”

When Vienny said it calmly, McClart’s brows shot up.

“…You’re saying I’m the same as the doctor?”

He seemed to take her words as nonsense. But Vienny did not waver, her voice steady as she replied.

“How are you different?”

While Pepin openly revealed his depraved desires, McClart’s interest was equally peculiar.

If he truly believed that Vienny was a wicked Great Witch, he would never have imprisoned her here in the first place. Vienny had seen how he treated other witches. She remembered it clearly.

No other witch had ever been treated the way she was.

The McClart standing before her now was erratic. Inconsistent.

Whether he was aware of that himself, Vienny could not tell. But she could see that he was caught off guard, however faintly.

“It’s those eyes of yours.”

The words were bitten out, vicious, as if he wanted to intimidate her.

“My eyes are perfectly fine.”

“You—”

“I haven’t done anything.”

McClart fell silent.

He was forcing the issue. And Vienny had merely pointed it out.

“Inquisitor. I haven’t done anything.”

“If you truly did nothing, then why—”

McClart stopped mid-sentence.

He stared at her with a look of strained restraint, then abruptly turned away.

Left alone, Vienny stood there for a long while, staring at the tightly closed door.

***

At some point, the quality of the meals began to improve.

In truth, Vienny hadn’t noticed it at all.

She only began to examine her tray closely because of a remark McClart muttered in passing.

“It seems that stomach of yours can’t tell good from bad.”

Vienny had long been accustomed to his harsh manner of speaking, so she immediately understood what he meant: no matter how much she ate, her body showed little improvement. It was only then that she realized how much better her meals had become.

The strangely colored soup made from unknown ingredients that she had previously eaten, for example, had turned clear and now contained visible chunks of meat. What she had once mistaken for a stone was clearly bread. If she looked closely enough, she would even find a cup of lukewarm milk tucked into one corner of the tray.

She didn’t need to ask whose orders these were.

What she couldn’t understand was why he had changed his mind.

The only things he had spoken of recently were Ivelis and Mc.

McClart would sometimes mention those names out of the blue. He might be sitting by the fireplace, seemingly absorbed in his work, or about to retreat to the inner chamber to sleep, when he would suddenly bring them up.

He wanted confirmation that they were nothing more than figments of Vienny’s imagination.

Vienny’s answer was always the same.

“That isn’t something you need to concern yourself with, Inquisitor. No one will ever come charging into Rave Castle to save me.”

Hearing that answer only made McClart’s expression turn even more sour. He sneered coldly, mocking her for defending a man who was neither loyal nor faithful.

Would he ever realize he was shooting himself in the foot?

She couldn’t tell him, and even if she did, he wouldn’t believe her. So Vienny remained silent. Interpreting her silence in his own way, McClart clicked his tongue in contempt.

Today followed much the same pattern.

After confirming that her tray was empty, he gestured towards her thin arms, but the conversation slid back to Ivelis and Mc once again before he could speak.

“Is your daughter being raised by that man?”

Without glancing at the documents in his hand, McClart pressed her for an answer. The way he watched her was eerily reminiscent of a beast tracking its prey.

Yet Vienny showed no sign of tension. She simply pulled the blanket over herself.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

As if he had never left, McClart had recently started doing all his work in his personal quarters again. Thanks to this, Vienny, who was forced to observe his routine, knew that it was almost time for him to go to bed.

Since she usually fell asleep around the same time he did, Vienny was already quite drowsy.

“Tempe has been burned to the ground, yet where is that b*stard hiding?”

But tonight, McClart looked unusually fine.

Having stayed in his personal quarters for several days without roaming outside, he must have had energy to spare.

Vienny, who had been curling up under the blanket, swallowed a sigh and lifted her eyes.

“You won’t find him.”

“He fled far away? Even though you’re here?”

“…Isn’t it time for you to sleep?”

She urged him to turn in once more, but instead of doing so, he set his documents aside and approached her. Vienny looked at him through half-closed eyes.

To be honest, he no longer seemed as intimidating as he had done before.

Perhaps it was because his attitude had softened — she was starting to feel at ease around him.

It might have been a naïve thought, but if he had improved her meals, didn’t that mean he didn’t intend to kill her?

“I found an interesting record in Stein.”

McClart said as he stood close, looking down at her.

“It says witches offered up maidens at every seasonal rite.”

The haze in Vienny’s eyes cleared slightly.

“If your daughter truly exists, she could become such a sacrifice.”

Seeing focus return to her gaze, McClart allowed a faint smile to surface. He seemed convinced that he had finally found a way to move her as he wished.

“If she’s that precious, you should hurry and find her.”

“My daughter?”

She blinked slowly, then lightly furrowed her brow.

“Or the man who slept with me?”

In Vienny’s field of vision, McClart’s face was steeped in shadow. Perhaps because of that, he looked especially grim.

Watching him persistently pry into matters concerning Ivelis and Mc, Vienny finally voiced a thought she had been cautiously harboring.

“Inquisitor… do you want someone to warm your bed?”

“…What?”

“If that weren’t the case, then no matter how I think about it, I can’t find another reason.”

She wasn’t giving off the heavy scent of blood right now, but if he truly was her beast, wouldn’t he be drawn to her even without it?

That thought crossed her mind.

“Are you curious about what would happen if you slept with me? Is that why you keep asking about Mc?”

“If that were what I was curious about, I’d have stripped you bare already.”

McClart, who had been stiff-faced, bit the words out. His expression was openly filled with revulsion and shock.

Judging by how disgusted he looked, it really wasn’t that bad.