Yahar City.

An independent free city-state. It earned autonomy by paying massive taxes and fulfilling all demands to the Pride Witch every three years.

It had its own politics, laws, and governance.

Sitting on the wealthiest central hub, far from the Pride Witch’s Veronan Castle, it slowly became the liveliest, most prosperous spot in her domain. Countless dreamers flocked here to soak in the vibe.

Envoys from every nation passed through while visiting others. They were often stunned by its glittering chaos.

Like the mega-cities in Cecile’s old world, Yahar City split into two worlds by day and night.

Daytime Yahar City ran like clockwork. People kept basic manners. Everyone seemed kind and easygoing, passionate about their jobs, hustling nonstop.

But nightfall twisted it into a den of wild revelry. People spilled stress, energy, and cash freely until dawn.

Before true daylight hit, all traces of chaos vanished—as if the night’s madness never happened.

On a street bright as noon under lamplight.

Cecile flicked a lightning spell, frying a thug who tried to grope her. She sighed.

Stepping on his groin, she ground her heel slightly, disappointed. “Why’s this never match what I pictured? Why so many thugs here?”

This was the third idiot begging for death.

Onlookers showed not a trace of fear. Instead, they watched with eager curiosity… Was this Yahar City?

Women aside—why were the men acting like that too?!

Could anyone accept this happening to them?

Cecile sure couldn’t.

“Hey, ever think you opened the gate in the wrong spot?” Winnie perched on a streetlight, eyeing the lecherous stares below. She barely held back the urge to unleash that planet-shattering blast.

Without Cecile here, she’d have leveled this place already.

And this gross outfit—barely covering anything. Night wind chilled her skin.

Damn that traitorous brat!

Ugh! So annoying! I wanna kill someone!

Trash, all of them!

“No way! This is Yahar City! Let me check the map.”

“Mom!” Imoxiu sprinted over with Helena.

“What is it?”

“I asked someone. She said this is Yahar City’s Lower District. Gaihe Inn’s in the Middle District—half the city away.” Imoxiu shared his intel.

Winnie snorted loudly.

“Tsk! Only you’d get lost like this!”

“Need me to build you a GPS later?”

“Winnie. Come here.” Cecile crooked a finger.

She’d hit her limit on this trip.

Turns out “pure enjoyment” meant nonstop trash talk.

Game cutscenes only showed Winnie’s power, not her personality.

Now Cecile finally got why she’d wanted to boot Winnie off the Witch throne in under ten years.

Who could endure a teacher like this daily?

Solid skills aside—who tolerated constant snark?

Winnie dropped from the streetlight, sauntering over with a hand behind her head. “What?”

“Ever heard ‘watch your mouth’ outside?”

“Why bother? Or think anyone can beat me—hey! What’re you—?!”

Winnie barely reached Cecile before being scooped up.

Held at Cecile’s waist, she looked up at that faint, dangerous smile.

“Hey! Not funny, Mother!” Winnie felt fingers sliding down her waist.

She swallowed hard. “P-people are watching, Mother! How ‘bout… sparing my dignity?”

Don’t go lower! One smack on the butt, and she’d never show her face tonight.

That brat must’ve forced this outfit for exactly this reason.

Worst. Ever.

“Fine. Keep your mouth shut till we’re back. One bad word about me, and I’ll ‘feed’ you extra later.” Cecile chuckled softly.

“Got it… I’ll obey everything, Mother.” Winnie glanced away.

“See that you do.”

Cecile set her down, heading for Gaihe Inn.

She’d promised to meet Aileen there first. Never expected the teleport gate to misfire—aiming for Middle District but landing in Lower.

She’d rallied everyone for tonight’s party.

“Um, Mom… who’s she?” Helena pointed at the white-haired, red-eyed girl beside Cecile.

Just a head taller than Helena.

Hair absurdly long—ankle-length. Only her short heels kept it off the ground.

Flawless face, clear red eyes radiating innocence.

But dullness in them showed zero interest in Yahar City.

A simple black bodycon dress covered everything but her arms.

Skin unrealistically pale—years in a hazmat suit, untouched by sun.

“Her? Abathur. The ‘fat person’ you mentioned.”

Only Helena beamed at the answer.

The other two gaped at the doll-like girl in black.

“Her?! Abathur?! That bastard who stole my free will?!”

“Seriously? Abathur’s… a girl?”

Imoxiu shuddered imagining Abathur—the hazmat-suited pharmacist handling nightmare potions.

No normal girl could survive that job!

Winnie stepped closer, studying Abathur. “Abathur? Say something.”

Others spoke full sentences. Abathur didn’t.

Her broken phrases made her stand out.

Abathur glanced at Winnie, ignored her, and trailed silently after Cecile.

Dragged out by force.

Threatened with future experiments, or she’d never have left. Pointless.

She’d planned to dig deeper into Angel Dust today.

Its power wasn’t just stealing free will. She still hadn’t found a cure.

Uncontrollable things scared even her—but thrilled her more.

Only she’d solve it.

Only she’d master the fix.

After a short walk, Helena shivered. She spun toward a pitch-black alley, yanking free of Cecile’s hand and dashing over.

“Helena?” Cecile called.

Helena stood at the alley’s mouth.

Darkness inside. Trash, vomit, and filth cluttered the ground. The stench stabbed the nose.

“Mom… someone’s in there.”

“I know.” Cecile sensed them. But why care?

This wasn’t a charity.

“People inside—and someone’s getting beaten. Pity them?” Winnie sensed the violence too.

Imoxiu might feel sympathy. Helena, obsessed with Cecile’s weapons, wouldn’t.

“Not that…” Helena shook her head.

Her chill wasn’t from them. She didn’t care. But that icy aura had brushed past her again—lingering in this alley.

It reminded her of that terrifying little girl.

The girl’s maniacal laugh echoed in her skull.

“Move it! I’m not staying out all night.” Winnie yanked Helena back.

One more stare, and she’d really snap.

Seriously—she couldn’t hold back!