The mayor served a cup of steeped black tea with utmost reverence, his smile oozing obsequious flattery.

Not just him—many prominent figures of Soul Valley Town crowded the modest living room. Yet an unusual silence hung in the air. Every gaze fixed rigidly on the figure ahead, eyes shadowed with unease.

Her hood was down, her cloak shed. The slender girl stood facing the window, her cerulean eyes silently tracing the snow-lashed town below.

Dressed like a mountain tracker, she wore fitted leather trousers and a woolen vest lined with hidden pockets. A silver chain coiled around her waist, its smooth disc bearing the unmistakable emblem of a weeping woman’s profile—the stark insignia of a Witch Hunter. No wonder the mayor and his guests trembled.

Across this continent, witches were walking time bombs—terrifying, unpredictable. Witch Hunters were the specialists called to defuse them. You might never need one, but you dared not be without one.

Soul Valley Town was merely a remote mountain settlement. No knightly garrisons guarded it; no powerful Sorceresses called it home. A single witch could wipe them all out. Carola’s arrival made them certain a threat lurked among them.

Though a fire crackled in the hearth, the tea cooled swiftly. Sweat beaded on the mayor’s brow. Since her arrival, this formidable girl had said nothing—only stared at the storm. Yet they couldn’t show impatience or leave. If a witch truly emerged here, their fate would hinge entirely on her whim.

Unless they had other allies.

Just as the mayor reached to refill her cup, Carola finally moved. She raised a hand to stop him, drained the cold tea in one gulp, and turned.

Only then did the townsfolk realize this enigmatic Witch Hunter was merely a girl of fifteen or sixteen. Dark blue hair framed delicate features. Her gaze was glacial, her expression sharp as a blade forged in ice. An aura of quiet authority radiated from her.

“Honored one…” The mayor rubbed his hands, forcing a smile. “Have you… found traces of the witch?”

Carola lifted her eyelids at last, studying the half-bald man before her. Her voice was crisp, cold. “There is no concrete evidence of a witch here.”

The mayor froze. “But… you came all this way…”

“Your local paper recently reported someone wielding fire. Our guild couldn’t verify their identity. I was nearby, so I was dispatched to investigate.”

*Just a false alarm.* Relief washed over the nobles. Their postures stiffened, arrogance replacing fear.

The mayor’s lips quivered. His respect for the girl waned, though his tone stayed polite. “That’s… excellent news. Should a witch ever appear, we’d rely on your expertise, of course.”

“That is my duty.” Carola tilted her chin slightly, her eyes as deep and still as a northern ice sea.

…

After selling more matches to travelers, Yihan and Lia wandered back through the town.

Dusk deepened. Snowflakes thickened. Nightfall always brought heavy snow here—a winter ritual. Streets filled with people. Carriages rolled slowly toward the grand theater at the town center. Nobles would gather there that evening for a ball and performances, celebrating Saint’s Eve.

The children of Saint Peter Orphanage were invited too. The headmaster had already taken the orphans ahead. Lia only needed to arrive before the final act; the rest of her time was free.

*Perfect.* Her mind buzzed with thoughts of the expensive dress hidden under her bed. She couldn’t wait to wear it for Yihan.

Wanting to surprise him, she’d clamped her lips shut whenever he asked. Now she gripped his wrist, tugging him toward the orphanage. “We’re sneaking in.”

“I truly have zero interest in your orphanage,” Yihan insisted for the third time.

“There’s something beautiful to see.” Her cheeks flushed pink. White puffs escaped her lips with each breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Just tell me now. Give me something to look forward to.”

“No!”

*Was she… flirting?*

He’d thought her a withdrawn, gloomy child. He’d worried how to connect with her. Yet here she was—bright-eyed, laughing. It was hard to believe this vibrant girl had ever known hunger or loneliness.

*If her family were still alive…* Yihan’s thoughts drifted. *She’d be so happy.*

Lia scrambled up a cedar tree, nimble as a squirrel, and vaulted over the high orphanage wall. She unlocked the gate from within. Yihan stepped inside, scanning the grounds with fresh eyes.

The orphanage was larger than he’d imagined, yet worn and ancient. Gray stone walls leached the spirit from the place. Snow blanketed the withered grass. A swing hidden in the woods creaked harshly in the wind.

“This way.” Lia seized his hand again. His palm was broad, warm—easily engulfing her small one.

She loved that enveloping warmth. Like burrowing into bed on a winter morning.

The children’s dormitories stood separate from the headmaster’s quarters. Where his room was spacious and lavish, theirs were cramped and dim. Six rooms total—boys and girls segregated. Six to eight children shared each hard wooden bed. Patchwork blankets lay thin over the mattresses, barely fending off the cold. The headmaster’s room boasted roaring braziers; the children weren’t allowed even a small fire. *“Too risky,”* he claimed. *“The old wood might catch.”*

Yihan wondered how these frail girls survived the winter.

Lia ducked under her bed, pulling out a hidden box. She darted behind a curtain before Yihan could glimpse its contents. “Wait out here!”

“I’m giving you ten seconds. Then I’m leaving.” He feigned impatience, assuming she was searching for something.

A startled gasp came from behind the curtain. The fabric trembled violently.

“…Five. Four. Three. Two. One—I’m gone!”

“I’m ready!” Lia burst out faster than he expected. The curtain flew aside. She half-stumbled forward, the gown draped haphazardly over her like a bath towel. Snow-pale skin flashed where the neckline gaped open.

Gossamer-thin black stockings covered only one leg. The other—long, slender, utterly bare—shivered slightly in the cold air. Her dark gold hair tumbled loose over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face, lending her a wild, breathless beauty.

Lia stared at the empty room. Yihan was gone. No footsteps echoed in the hall.

All her excitement, her nervous hope, drained away in an instant. Slowly, she sank to her knees. She peeled off the single stocking. Buttoned her blouse with trembling fingers. Hugged her arms tight.

*Why rush away?* She’d moved as fast as she could. But stripping and redressing properly took time. Ten seconds wasn’t enough to emerge looking… worthy.

This dress was the most beautiful thing she’d owned in fourteen years. She’d wanted him to see her in it. To hear his praise. To feel his gaze—hot, admiring—on her skin.

Every girl wants to be beautiful. Every girl wants to shine before the one she cares for. Was even this simple, aching wish too much to ask?

A wave of crushing disappointment washed over her. She hugged herself tighter, sniffing back tears.