The crowd suddenly fell silent.

The silence was so complete, so perfectly in unison, like a squad of well-trained soldiers, that Leticia couldn't react for a moment. She had no idea what was going on.

Struggling to see through the gaps in the crowd, Leticia caught a glimpse of what looked like someone standing among them.

Hm. Looked like a man. An old man, at that. So he probably wasn't a Witch.

Though she couldn't rule out the possibility that Witch was just a title, and men could be Witches too...

As strange thoughts surfaced in Leticia's mind, the old man inside began to speak:

“My fellow people of Innsmouth, I'm glad to see you all here today...”

The old man's opening words were plain. There were no fancy turns of phrase, nor any rousing declarations. And yet, there seemed to be a kind of magic in his voice, one that calmed people's hearts against their will.

He was the pastor of this insignificant little village. His name was Jemrey Marshall. Thirty years ago, Pastor Marshall had arrived in this rundown place—and he'd never left.

He'd put down roots here and preached here, offering the villagers faith and spiritual support. With patience and kindness, he'd won their trust and become one of them.

As far as Leticia knew, Pastor Marshall was a wonderful man. He spoke gently to the children, and sometimes even shared food reserved for the church with them, like fresh apples and small slices of whole-wheat bread.

After Uncle John fell ill, Pastor Marshall had shown him the same kindness, and even given Leticia some medicine.

In this impoverished village, even that little bit of medicine was precious.

But today, Leticia realized that maybe she'd never known Jemrey Marshall at all.

“I won't waste time on unnecessary words today. I imagine everyone here has heard of Witches, haven't you?”

Leticia couldn't see Pastor Marshall's face, but she could hear his impassioned voice. “They are the crows of the apocalypse! The filth of hell! Corrupt and depraved, they willingly sell everything they have to the Devil, abandoning the bliss of ascending to our Lord's kingdom after death!”

“They are shameless and wicked, vile and without decency! They are the refuse and corruption lurking in this world, a cancer that drags the faithful of our Lord into the Abyss!”

As his words grew more intense, Pastor Marshall's expression grew more feverish, and his voice rose higher and higher. It rasped like a gong full of sand. “They are followers of evil, servants of the Devil! They have no souls. All they can hear is the Devil's temptation!”

“They are walking corpses. One careless step, and they'll drag you down into the depths of hell. They are the very source of all the pain and calamity in this world!”

Listening to him made Leticia's head spin. She really wanted to point out all the holes and nonsense in his claims, but...

Then again, Witches existed in this place. What could she still expect to make scientific sense?

Besides, she hadn't even figured out what was going on with herself yet.

So she'd just have to keep her snark to herself.

Perhaps deciding he'd stirred up enough excitement, Pastor Marshall suddenly straightened his vestments, raised both hands, and struck a prayerful pose.

“But our great Lord took pity on us for the sins we have suffered. He bestowed His grace and aid upon us, sending down His faithful and His chosen, and granting us strength and wisdom so that we might cross this sea of suffering.”

“Our Lord gave us the spearhead, so we can pierce the Devil's flesh. He gave us the sacred words, so we can remain calm and pure in the face of temptation. He gave us the laws of the Church, so we can keep our faith in our daily lives and return, step by step, to our Lord's embrace!”

Pastor Marshall paused, then pulled a small silver cross from a hidden pocket in his vestments.

“My fellow people of Innsmouth, I'm sure you all know why we've gathered here today!”

“Witches!”

“Witches!”

“Witches!”

Like the perfect chorus, the villagers of Innsmouth burst into shouts as soon as they heard Pastor Marshall's words. Their cries rolled like waves, each one louder than the last, rising straight into the sky.

“That's right! Witches!”

Pastor Marshall nodded emphatically and shouted, “Not long ago, the knights of our Church captured a servant of the Devil. After due deliberation, we've decided to burn this terrifying heretic at the stake here in Innsmouth!”

Boom!

Pastor Marshall's words exploded through the crowd like a bomb.

Leticia looked at the villagers around her. Their faces seemed twisted, almost frightening. Even Uncle John looked like a stranger.

“Leticia!”

“U-Uncle?”

A small hand suddenly clasped Leticia's. She looked up and saw John's excited expression. “Did you hear? The Witch is going to be burned at the stake!”

And what difference did that make?

“Uh, yeah, I heard...”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime event...”

Uncle John said with satisfaction. “I never thought I'd live to see the Devil sent to the executioner's block with my own eyes. This must be a blessing from the gods!”

I really don't see how that's a blessing...

Leticia thought to herself that, from what she'd read and seen, public executions were something people did back in the old days. They were little more than a way for the ruling class or religious authorities to maintain their power and ensure the people's obedience and faith—in other words, a form of intimidation.

But here, why did these villagers seem so happy to watch? They acted like it was a festival.

It was such a cruel thing to do...

That was what Leticia thought. She never could have imagined that, many years later, she herself would walk to the stake in shackles and chains, the star attraction at a festival for the people.

“Leticia, you can't see it, but make sure you listen carefully in a moment!”

Uncle John said, “The more painful and louder the Witch's screams are, the more forgiveness and blessings our Lord will send down. Our days ahead will go all the more smoothly!”

Heh... Hehehe...

Leticia felt like this was the first time she'd ever understood this world. What kind of logic was that? Was everyone here a sadist?!

“Silence.”

Apparently deciding the time had come, Pastor Marshall raised a hand to quiet the villagers and said solemnly, “Everyone, there's no time to waste. Bring the Witch forward!”

The sudden silence made Leticia feel a little uncomfortable.

And in that abrupt quiet, every sound that broke through was especially clear and grating.

There were three voices. Two belonged to men, probably villagers. From the sound of something scraping along the ground, Leticia guessed the two men escorting the prisoner were carrying weapons. They seemed to be pushing someone along.

That “someone” was the Witch.

“So that's what a Witch looks like...”

A villager standing in front of Leticia murmured.

“Yeah. I always thought Witches would have sharp fangs and black horns growing out of their heads. But she looks no different from the rest of us!”

“Yeah, exactly...”

A third person nodded vigorously. “I heard Witches love the life force of grown men most of all. Once they charm you, they'll devour your soul, too!”

They talked excitedly. None of them had ever seen a scene like this before, or laid eyes on the real form of the Devil's incarnation described in the scriptures.

“Hey, don't talk so loudly!”

Another person joined the discussion, keeping his voice low. “Careful, the Witch might hear you. I heard all she has to do is look at someone to steal their soul!”

“That's terrifying...”

“Damn, that scared the hell out of me!”

“We should keep our voices down too...”

The more she heard, the more ridiculous it got...

Leticia pursed her lips, speechless. She looked up and saw that her uncle was craning his neck like everyone else, trying to get a better look.

She lowered her head and kicked a clod of dirt at her feet. Without thinking, she licked her lips and frowned.

She missed home...

“Witch!”

Apparently the Witch had been brought to the stake. Pastor Marshall shouted, “You soulless servant, you stinking filth! I can smell the reek of hell on you from all the way over here!”

“Hmph.”

The only answer to his scolding was a soft, cold laugh, full of contempt—and deep exhaustion and pain. It sounded as if she'd already endured torture and torment.

“Witch! Repent! Even if you've sold your soul, as long as you still have faith in our Lord in your heart, you can be reborn in these flames!”

That didn't make a lick of sense...

That was Leticia's snark. First he said she'd sold her soul to the Devil, then he said she could be reborn and saved. Just how ridiculously powerful was this god, to ignore the whole Devil business like that...?

“Repent? You dare tell me to repent? Heh, hehehe... Hahahahahaha!”

The Witch's voice sounded young and gentle, but even it had taken on a touch of madness now. “You stupid fools have no idea what your god really is. Heh... hahaha...”

“Silence!”

Pastor Marshall roared. There was a sharp crack, and the Witch's laughter abruptly stopped.

Even without seeing it, Leticia knew he'd made her shut up the physical way.

“You're on the verge of death and still refuse to repent! You even dare to defile the faithful of our Lord!”

Pastor Marshall shouted, “I'll purify this evil with my own hands!”