Hunting at Demon Hunt's first major branch east of the Pride Witch's domain.
Standing before her direct superior's door, Annette still felt like she was dreaming.
Just days ago, she’d returned with Witt.
Yes—only Witt and she had chosen to come back.
The others had all left along the way, for reasons unknown.
Annette knew they were likely victims of the Pride Witch’s schemes, but she was helpless. She had to let them go.
Because of the body swap, she couldn’t explain anything even if she returned to Demon Hunt.
Witt, now a girl, had been frail as a boy. As a girl, she just looked a bit more petite.
Simple chest binding and neutral clothes were enough to pass.
But Witt had grown incredibly clingy, wanting to stick to Annette twenty-four hours a day.
If Witt’s gender weren’t still unclear, Annette had no doubt she’d move into her room to sleep.
Knock knock. After a loud “Come in!” from inside, Annette pushed the door open.
“Welcome back, Annette,” said Miro, the one-eyed man behind the desk. He stood, beaming, and walked out to hug her.
“Mm… I’m back, boss.” Annette was pulled into his embrace.
Miro looked down at the subordinate he’d personally promoted. “You don’t seem happy…” he said helplessly.
“Who would be happy after this?” Annette replied bitterly.
She alone had caused comrades to lose their lives… their ideals. Yet she had to return to Demon Hunt for work she hated.
“Cheer up, child. Cohen’s death wasn’t your fault. My planning failed—I should’ve used an intermediary for your contact. The blame is mine.” Miro soothed the girl in his arms.
“As for the others, everyone has their own path. Fighting Witches is dangerous. Not all have the courage to see it through. That they walked partway with us is precious. Don’t force others to stay.”
“Mm…” Annette sobbed quietly.
After a while, she calmed down.
Miro seated her, then stood by the window. He opened it and lit a cigarette.
“Tell me everything. From start to finish.”
“It began in the Shengen Kingdom…”
Two hours later.
“In the end, I escaped with help from the Radiant Knight—an insider from the Luminous Cathedral. My wounds healed under Papal Majesty’s holy light.”
Annette skipped Witt’s failed assault on the seventh stronghold and her own nightmare. She glossed over dangers, making it sound mild.
Miro tapped his barely-smoked cigarette. “The Luminous Cathedral’s Radiant Knight… Radiant Knight?”
“That’s Euphemia, the Radiant Sword Saint under the Pride Witch. She’s their mole.”
“You’re kidding… Can a mole rise that high under the Pride Witch? She must be arrogantly blind!” Miro couldn’t believe it.
But since Euphemia had truly helped Annette, he thought it worth watching.
“Oh—about the Pride Witch. Have you seen her? I heard she’s breathtakingly beautiful.”
Annette shook her head. “No. She wouldn’t show herself in such a small place.”
She was beautiful, yes—but every smile sent chills down Annette’s spine. Each glance was calculating, radiating danger.
If she personally hunted someone as small as Annette, what wouldn’t she do?
Miro shrugged. “True. Anyone who’s seen her like that is probably dead already…”
He took a drag, looking melancholic.
“Back to the Pope of the Luminous Cathedral… Can she be trusted?”
“It’s not about trust. She’s… magnetic. Her face is stunning, her aura noble and sacred—otherworldly. I can’t describe her… Sadly, that night was too dark. Under scattered moonlight, I couldn’t see Papal Majesty clearly…”
“Uh…”
“Was my description unclear?”
“A bit excessive. Simply put—you didn’t see her face well, but you feel she’s trustworthy?” Miro summarized.
“I think she’s very trustworthy.”
Like hell. If the Pride Witch were trustworthy, nothing in this world would be untrustworthy.
But to turn Witt back into a boy, Annette had to lie.
Anyway, the Luminous Cathedral was weak. Using the Witch’s fame to strengthen it was impossible.
“So the Luminous Cathedral could be an ally?”
Miro pondered. “Annette, have you recovered enough?”
“More or less.” Truthfully, she needed more time.
But to cooperate with the Pride Witch’s side, she forced a nod.
“Then I’ll entrust you with handling Luminous Cathedral matters.”
“?!” Annette froze.
“Boss—is it really okay to give me such an important task?”
“Of course!” Miro laughed, slapping her shoulder. “You’re one of the few I trust. Allying against the Witch must fall to you.”
“But before—”
“That’s past, good child. We must look forward. Crushing someone over mistakes makes us no better than evil Witches.” Miro exhaled his last smoke ring and stubbed out the cigarette.
“The only way to honor comrades who died for Demon Hunt’s ideals is to crush the Witches to dust. Liberate this world from their playground.”
“Don’t forget why we fight.”
Annette’s heart churned with guilt.
Sorry—I probably can’t keep this vow… She bit her lip.
The guilt she’d eased surged back. Tears welled; fists clenched.
“If guilt eats you, cry it out. Only release brings relief.”
Miro crouched, pulling her into his arms. He let her sob uncontrollably, releasing every pent-up emotion.
Sorry… sorry… sorry!!!
Sorry, boss…
Sorry, Demon Hunt…
Sorry, comrades who died for my mistakes…
Sorry, my ideals…
For Witt to become a boy again…
No—maybe just for herself.
She’d grown curious about the Pride Witch, wanting to understand her…
She’d become a bad girl.
She… seemed… to have betrayed them.
