The atmosphere in the mayor’s house hung heavy.

Two people sat on each side of a rectangular table nearly two meters long. Witch-Hunter Carola and the mayor of Soul Valley Town faced each other across the polished wood. Carola’s expression remained cool and unreadable, while the mayor kept wiping beads of sweat that weren’t really there from his brow.

Most Witch-Hunters were aloof and reclusive by nature. Carola’s distant demeanor was perfectly normal. In fact, since arriving in Soul Valley Town, she’d secured a private room for herself. Aside from hunting the witch Lia, she stayed alone, avoiding all contact.

Even after the mayor went to great lengths—and swallowed his pride—to arrange this meeting, Carola’s attitude hadn’t softened.

Witch-Hunters were paid by their guild. Driving away a witch outside an official assignment rarely earned rewards—maybe just gratitude from locals. So when the mayor slid a thick stack of gold coins across the table, Carola’s gaze lingered on them for a moment.

“…What’s this for?”

The mayor forced a smile. “Gratitude! Pure gratitude!”

“Unnecessary. Banishing witches is my duty.” Carola pushed back her chair to stand. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

The mayor scrambled to block her path. “Wait! There’s… one more thing I need your help with, honored Hunter.”

“Speak.”

“We wish… to extract the core from the witch’s body…”

Carola turned, narrowing her eyes as she studied the sweating, flustered man. Genuine surprise flickered in her gaze. “Do you hate her that much?”

“It’s not about hatred!” The mayor waved his hands frantically. “She hasn’t damaged our town, true—but she’s still a witch! Leaving her alive invites endless trouble. I’ve heard… witches carry a core inside them. Their source of power. It must be incredibly valuable, right?”

“It is,” Carola admitted, her tone turning sharp. “But extracting it intact requires the witch to be alive. The process is excruciatingly painful. And dangerous. One misstep could trigger the core’s power. This witch commands flames. If it detonates, it’ll level this entire town.”

“So we’ll move her somewhere safe first, won’t we?”

“Safe? The nearest places are wilderness and forest. Where exactly would you take her? If her fire ignites the woods, can you bear the consequences?”

No matter how earnestly he pleaded, Carola refused. Finally, the mayor’s patience snapped. His voice turned coarse. “Just do as you’re told! What’s with all the fuss? Think your Witch-Hunter title makes you special? You’re just as unwelcome as the witches you hunt!”

Carola stared at the suddenly brazen man. Moments ago, he’d been obsequious—daring not to breathe a word against her, nodding eagerly at everything she said. Now he acted as if he could grind her beneath his heel. So arrogant.

But Carola never wasted words on fools. Disgusted, she turned away without another glance.

Still, unease prickled beneath her skin. The mayor’s boldness felt unnatural—as if someone powerful stood behind him.

Stepping onto the street, Carola melted into the crowd, her hood pulled low. Life had returned to Soul Valley Town. Though the theater incident had sparked panic, news of the witch’s banishment had calmed everyone. Silent and unobtrusive, Carola headed straight for the ruins of the Grand Theater.

The once-majestic building was now shattered stone and splintered wood. A thin layer of unmelted snow dusted the wreckage, painting the scene in stark shades of white and ash-gray.

The deeper she walked, the more guards appeared. Many recognized the cloaked girl who’d subdued the witch. None dared stop her. Carola’s face remained impassive as she reached the heart of the ruins—a cage of ice resting on scorched earth.

Inside, a girl lay pitifully curled up. Thin iron chains bound her wrists and ankles to the cage’s four corners, forcing her into a cramped, motionless huddle.

Her once-elegant gown hung in tatters, its vibrant colors faded. Like its owner, it seemed to have fallen to dust.

Carola crouched beside the cage. The girl’s eyes were hollow, vacant. Her skin looked unnaturally pale in the cold, her lips cracked from thirst.

*How did she wither like this in just one night?* Carola wondered. *Was losing that boy truly so devastating?*

Carola sighed inwardly. She held no love for witches, but this one had harmed no one. She was just a girl—barely older than Carola herself—blossoming into life. She didn’t deserve this.

*But you are a witch. You bring endless ruin. I have no choice.*

Carola pulled a soft cream bun from her pocket, ready to toss it inside. Then she caught the faintest whisper.

The girl lay on her side against the frozen floor. Her eyes held no light. Her lips moved slightly, soundlessly forming a single name over and over:

“Yi—Han… Yi—Han… Yi—Han…”

The words were too soft, too distant. Carola frowned. “Who are you calling for?”

No answer.

“The boy who was with you that day?” Carola recalled the scene vividly. That ordinary-looking man who’d shielded the witch, who’d tried to flee with her—who’d feared *for* her, not *of* her. It had piqued Carola’s curiosity.

*What kind of man was he?*

A pity. He’d seemed utterly mundane—just a bystander caught between witch and hunter. In the end, not even his body remained.

Carola’s eyes dimmed. She placed the bun gently beside the girl’s hand and stood.

She wouldn’t tell Lia about the mayor’s plan to extract her core. No need to deepen the girl’s terror.

Nor would she aid such cruelty. She’d grant Lia a swift end.

Detesting witches was one thing. Banishing them was duty. Carola’s own hometown had been destroyed by a witch. But that didn’t mean she’d pour years of hatred onto this innocent girl—even if she, too, bore the mark of a witch.