Late Night.
Cecile sat upright on the throne.
She gently swirled the wine glass in her hand, a thoughtful expression on her face.
At present, everything was unfolding exactly as she had planned.
Whether it was discovering Demon Hunt early and countering it, or that so-called United Kingdom scheme... even potential traitors like the Noah sisters. She had activated trump cards meant only for the game’s late stages.
All these proceeded smoothly.
The only tricky part was establishing the Luminous Cathedral legitimately. Most talents at her disposal had stains on their records.
Using her own people directly wasn’t feasible. The few usable talents in the current plot weren’t worth poaching.
After much thought, Cecile decided to be practical.
Better to cure True Dawn quickly and dump the Luminous Cathedral affair on her.
Though this might introduce an uncontrollable factor, no one suited the role of first Holy Maiden better than True Dawn.
At least on the surface, she was genuinely gentle—like an angel descended to the mortal world.
As her thoughts shifted, a projection appeared before Cecile.
The figure wore thick protective gear head-to-toe, obscuring her face and actions. From her busy hands, she seemed to be concocting something.
Cecile didn’t rush her. She waited silently until the other noticed the contact.
The figure turned her head. Seeing Cecile, she stopped working and bowed slightly.
"Witch, what is it?" The voice from the suit was muffled and buzzing.
"There’s an incurable illness. Most alchemists in my territory examined her—all declared it hopeless. Are you interested?"
"Really?!" The figure lifted her head, voice trembling with excitement. "Illness analysis... personal projection. Give me."
Cecile nodded. Medical reports and the frail True Dawn lying on a bed materialized before her.
She knew she’d piqued Abathur’s interest.
The more hopeless the disease, the more an alchemist like Abathur craved it. She believed no illness defied her cure.
As the Pride Witch’s chief alchemist, Abathur had low presence in the game.
She aided neither the Pride Witch nor the protagonist’s side—utterly neutral.
Her plot appearances were rare. Often, she was just a background figure in final scenes. That thick hazmat suit deepened the player disconnect.
Only completionists knew the doll-like girl beneath: white-haired, red-eyed, exquisitely beautiful.
The suit was purely for safety during lethal potion experiments. Each explosion meant replacing it.
Becoming the Pride Witch’s private alchemist let her experiment freely. Cecile’s vast wealth covered all her wasteful trials.
As Cecile watched, Abathur grew visibly excited. Her body trembled. Her gaze kept darting to True Dawn’s bed.
"Found it. Efficient. Witch. Her—I need!"
"Fine. Cure her completely. Can you?"
"Full cure. Simple." Abathur nodded firmly.
"Someone will escort her soon. Cure her—and keep her fully intact."
"No damage. She’s precious."
Relieved, Cecile cut the connection.
With Abathur’s promise, only good news remained.
Genius and madness shared a thin line—Abathur walked it.
Cecile had little confidence controlling such a pure alchemist. Abathur cared only for her research.
Tapping her throne’s armrest, Cecile looked down. Helena sprawled on the red carpet, watching shonen anime from Cecile’s past life. A faint smile touched Cecile’s lips.
Helena was the most useful.
If only everyone obeyed like her.
In the Pride Witch’s faction, Helena was the simplest soul.
Childlike and immature, yet wielding power beyond mortal reach.
In the game, the original Cecile treated her with indifference.
She saw Helena as a mere alchemical construct—unworthy of humanity.
Contact lowered her status. She avoided it.
When unused, she locked Helena in a cage. Helena never resisted—though she could shatter it easily.
Cecile knew Helena was her greatest asset. But she ignored her, believing no one surpassed herself.
Helena, not even human, went unused.
Arrogant and self-important, she dismissed others.
Otherwise, how could Demon Hunt overthrow the witches with the protagonist’s help?
Before that, a key point was barely mentioned: the Witch Conference.
Held every century, it symbolized the Seven Witches’ rule.
That conference made them misjudge Demon Hunt’s threat, allowing its growth.
This was normal. The conference evolved from the Pride Witch’s power display to heir competitions—a twisted progress.
It betrayed its original purpose.
Especially regarding her chosen heir.
Little Arrogance, Imoxiu von.
A child prodigy wielding fragments of the Arrogance authority. Discovered and brought to Cecile.
Cecile, lacking an heir, naturally chose her.
Imoxiu was the faction’s second-strongest after Helena.
Yet the old problem persisted: even as heir, arrogance’s bias remained.
In the game, Imoxiu betrayed Cecile most—undetected until her final backstab.
But Imoxiu was one of few truly useful to Cecile.
Her rebellion was simple: craving Cecile’s attention.
Tragically, even after that backstabbed forbidden technique, Cecile dismissed her as "an incompetent child."
Imoxiu was a love-starved brat.
With proper guidance, she could become a simple, obedient tool like Helena.
Cecile felt confident turning this traitorous child into a loyal assistant.
