*Thump thump thump!*

"Be a good girl, Lady Cely~ Open the door! Quick, I’m coming in!" True Dawn chirped at the prearranged room.

Everyone nearby gaped at her, stepping back a pace.

This was the first time anyone had ever called the Pride Witch "good girl."

"True Dawn..." Euphemia called to her sister.

"Mmm, it’s fine! Sister, Lady Cely is super nice to me!" True Dawn wasn’t worried at all.

The door swung open. Imoxiu stepped aside. "Mom went out for fun. Said to find her at Paradise Land after we arrived."

"Paradise Land?" Aileen adjusted her glasses. "That’s no good place."

"What do you mean?"

"Only big shots in Yahar City get past its doors—and that’s just stepping inside. Higher floors? Reserved for gang members. Low-ranking ones need not apply."

Though Aileen had never been to Yahar City, she knew everything about it. A proper maid must always be ready for her master’s impulsive travels. And Yahar City, as a metropolis, absolutely qualified.

True Dawn’s eyes lit up. She leaned in eagerly. "Gangs? Like the mafia in novels?! Right here in our city? So we can wear blue shirts, jeans, and gun it down on the streets?"

"Or paint our faces white, draw huge red smiles, dye our hair green, and strut in suits?"

"Sadly, Miss True Dawn, no. We’d be shredded by bullets and magic blasts before we took three steps."

"True Dawn!" Euphemia finally snapped.

Why did her sister’s head spin with such nonsense? Those were sick people’s antics—they were normal!

"Mmm... okay, I’ll shut up..." True Dawn’s shoulders slumped, her excitement wilting.

Euphemia’s heart ached. She regretted cutting off her sister’s daydream. Before this trip, True Dawn had spent seventeen and a half years bedridden. Her world had been four white walls and a sister who existed only as a fleeting memory. She was still a sheltered minor. Euphemia shouldn’t be so harsh.

"Actually... if you really want to," Euphemia hugged her sister’s frail frame, "we can ask Lady Cely when she returns."

Hope flickered back in True Dawn’s eyes. "Right! Lady Cely will say yes!"

Aileen, noting True Dawn’s enthusiasm and recalling Cecile’s orders, gave a brief rundown of Yahar City.

Except for True Dawn’s bright curiosity, everyone’s expressions darkened.

This wasn’t a vacation—it was walking into misery. In a city torn by gang wars and chaos, they’d stand out like fireflies on a moonless night.

"By the way," True Dawn turned to the crimson-eyed girl reading a philosophy tome alone on the sofa, "who’s this pretty sister? I’ve never seen her before."

"Abathur." The girl on the sofa replied. Her voice, no longer muffled by her protective suit, flowed clear as springwater. She ignored others, but this precious girl deserved a response.

True Dawn parted her lips slightly. "Abathur... sister..."

Annette and Witt didn’t know who Abathur was, but Euphemia was stunned. Witt frowned. Something about this person felt familiar yet utterly alien. When Abathur’s gaze landed on her, a chill shot down Witt’s spine. Cold sweat broke out on her back. As Abathur stood, Witt flinched backward.

"Witt?" Annette shielded her, sensing Witt’s terror was tied to Abathur’s movement.

"She. Needs. Examination."

With each step Abathur took, Witt’s fear deepened. She stared up at the red-eyed girl, chest tight, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

"Don’t let her near!" Annette shouted.

Aileen pressed a hand on Annette’s shoulder, shaking her head. "Letting Abathur check her won’t hurt."

"Is she the one who did this to Witt?"

"Abathur is her personal alchemist. That should explain enough."

"But—"

"Abathur takes responsibility for her creations. Like a mother with her infant. She may seem indifferent—even cold—to others, but not to subjects like Witt." Aileen’s warning was clear: if Annette didn’t step aside, Abathur would force her away. Most thought alchemists were fragile. Aileen knew better. Like herself, Abathur had no need to show her strength. Scientists were monsters.

Annette hesitated but stayed put. "Witt has to agree to an exam..."

Abathur stopped before her, hand pressing Annette’s shoulder. "She. Is. Mine."

This girl was her creation. Her responsibility. No witch had the right to ruin her experiment. Letting it die for trivial reasons would be an insult. The exam was routine maintenance.

Annette opened her mouth—then flew backward as unnatural force slammed into her shoulder. Euphemia caught her just in time.

"Abathur never holds back..." Aileen sighed, shrugging helplessly. Only their master could rein Abathur in. Here, no one mattered to her. Aileen herself wouldn’t act without orders—not over something that might split their group.

Witt had backed against the door, tears welling, voice strangled by fear as Abathur approached. Abathur’s hand, meant for Witt’s sleeve, shifted to her head. She gently ruffled Witt’s hair. "Don’t be tense. Just a necessary check. It’ll be quick. It’s good for you... I won’t harm you. You’re mine."

"?"

"?!"

The room froze. Abathur had spoken full, fluid sentences—with warmth. They’d never known she could sound human. She only showed emotion to what she deemed important: people, or experiments.

Abathur’s gaze swept the room, her usual vacant eyes sharpening to blades. "Clear out."

"She stays," Aileen pointed at Annette. "Or you won’t calm Witt’s panic. The master believes she’s Witt’s best friend."

Abathur studied Aileen’s unwavering stance, then nodded. "Fine."

The exam was critical. She needed precision, especially after Witt had been away so long. Outdated data required updating. It would advance her forbidden life research. Among all her creations, Witt was her masterpiece. A pity the witch had interfered—more accurate data had slipped through her fingers.

Aileen beckoned Imoxiu, whispering in her ear.

Imoxiu blinked. "Me... for this?"

"Lady Cely’s orders. She trusts you."

"Uh... I’ll try..." Imoxiu’s voice trailed off, Winnie’s scolding flashing in her mind: *"Fool! Give me a confident answer, or you’ll turn to ash like this book! I swear it!"*

She straightened, meeting Aileen’s eyes firmly. "I *will* do it!"

"I believe in you. Just as Lady Cely does."

Aileen handed her an invitation, keeping one.

"Miss True Dawn," she added at the door, "what you wished for earlier... might just come true."

She glanced back at Abathur.

Abathur gave a slight shrug—*I know*.