After saying goodbye to the pastor, Leticia supported Uncle John as they set off for home.

As they walked, she couldn’t help looking back, wanting to see what had become of the person everyone called a “Witch.”

Even the stake had burned and collapsed. Black ash and charcoal littered the ground, with what looked like tiny blackened fragments of bone mixed in, still giving off smoke.

A handful of villagers stood beside the stake, cleaning up with looks of disgust.

They seemed repulsed by the Witch’s remains, as if they thought those, too, would bring misfortune.

“What a strange and cruel world...”

Leticia turned away and murmured to herself.

A faint breeze carrying black smoke brushed past her nose. The charred stench stung her nostrils.

“Ah, ah, ah... Achoo!”

......

After the major event of the Witch’s execution, Innsmouth Village once again returned to its usual routine.

Pastor Marshall had helped twice, getting Uncle John through this crisis safely. And at Leticia’s insistence, he’d given up his plan to work a night shift at the mine.

Truth be told, Uncle John had missed work for a long time because of his sudden illness. The mine had already taken him off its books.

Uncle John thought it was a shame to lose a source of income, but Leticia thought it was for the best.

If he went back to the way things had been before, it’d only be a matter of time before he fell ill again.

“Come here, child.”

After finishing his work and returning home, John beckoned Leticia over.

“Yes, Uncle? What is it?”

Leticia turned from the window and asked with a smile. While she’d been away from it for a moment, she’d stamped on the ground several times, kicking up a little dust to cover a twig lying there.

Ever since arriving in this world, Leticia had kept up one habit, even though circumstances made it difficult: practicing her handwriting.

The writing in this world was completely different from the writing where she came from. From what she’d observed in her daily life, it seemed to use a script somewhat like the Latin alphabet.

But there were so few places where she could see any writing. She’d only spotted a few marks that might have been words in the church, and the villagers weren’t allowed to read the church’s scriptures. So Leticia hadn’t been able to gather enough samples to study.

Her body seemed to carry soul-memories, like faint echoes, that let her understand what people were saying. It didn’t get in the way of communicating. But it seemed the original Leticia hadn’t known how to read or write...

That wasn’t surprising. Given the circumstances and the level of development here, it’d be strange if a child from a remote village could read...

So for now, she was still more or less completely in the dark.

Naturally, the characters she practiced writing on the ground were from her own world.

It wasn’t that she was especially eager to study. It was just that when Leticia saw those characters she’d written herself, she felt—really felt—that she had “crossed over”...

This dull, difficult life was truly wearing her down. It left her almost no time to think.

She quickly pushed all her thoughts aside, put on a bright smile, and greeted her uncle.

“Heh, it’s nothing. I just brought you something.”

Uncle John’s gaunt, sharply angular face wore a gentle smile. Kindness glimmered in his deep-set eyes. “Here. I traded for this with a passing traveling merchant.”

A traveling merchant was exactly what the name suggested: a shop on the move.

In her previous life, Leticia had played a few single-player games. In their outdoor areas, she’d sometimes run into merchants like these, who sold supplies, items, weapons, and other gear.

But traveling merchants here didn’t carry any of that. They simply followed the kingdom’s main roads, passing through towns and villages and trading with the locals.

They also accepted barter, which helped promote trade between regions~

Leticia took the item from John and examined it closely. She could just make out that it was a hair ornament meant to be pinned in her hair.

The ornament was made entirely of wood, and the workmanship was rather rough. It felt coarse to the touch, and someone had carved a few simple patterns into it to give the poor little ornament a bit of decoration.

“Uncle, what’s this?”

“Ah, just a little trinket.”

Uncle John gave a soft cough. “I thought you were old enough to start dressing up a little, Leticia. It wouldn’t do to go around looking like a boy all the time, would it?”

Though John had recovered from his illness, it had left its mark. Every now and then, he still coughed.

“Uh...”

Leticia looked at the hair ornament in her hand, her feelings a tangled mess.

She’d never thought she’d need something like this...

Never mind that times were hard and there was no point trading for something that wouldn’t noticeably improve their lives. There was also her current state of mind to consider.

She’d spent well over a decade as a grown man, and now her little buddy was gone—and people were telling her she was old enough to care about her appearance?

Who could accept that?!

“Thank you, Uncle... But are you sure this was okay?”

Leticia asked carefully. “What did you trade for it?”

“Nothing much. Just one copper coin.”

John waved it off. He coughed, then said, “Come on, child. Let me put it on for you.”

“Uh, all right. Thank you, Uncle.”

Leticia had no choice but to accept. A strange, indescribable ball-aching feeling welled up inside her, but she hid her embarrassment well behind the strands of hair falling over her eyes.

“There.”

Her uncle’s rough palm moved away from her cheek. He took a step back and looked her over. “Mm, not bad. Very pretty.”

“Is it? That’s great, then.”

If there’d been a mirror, Leticia would’ve seen the perfect example of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“So, Uncle, is this why you came back now?”

Leticia glanced at the sky outside and silently estimated the time. “It’s not long past noon yet, is it?”

Wasn’t this the time of year when everyone should be working in the fields?

It wasn’t that Leticia didn’t want to help John. For one thing, she had absolutely no idea how to do farm work. Even after more than two months, she was still completely lost. And for another...

This village had no livestock farming at all, strangely enough—only traditional agriculture. And Leticia couldn’t lift a single one of the villagers’ farm tools.

Who knew if those sickles were stuffed with pig iron? Either way, no matter how hard Leticia tried, she could barely lift one. Carrying it around to work was out of the question...

Maybe it was because of her constitution, too. Compared to the other children in the village, boys and girls alike, Leticia was a whole size smaller. They were Bamboo Poles; she was the thin core inside one...

Those were some of the reasons Uncle John had left her at home.

Her uncle had told her she’d once suffered a serious illness, too—so bad she’d almost died. That was why she was so frail.

“Mm. I’ll head back in a little while. I came by to tell you something.”

Uncle John nodded. “Pastor Marshall sent someone to say that he wants some of the children in the village to go to his church. You’re on the list, Leticia.”

“...Huh? What?”

Leticia was stunned for a long moment before she managed to ask.

He was gathering some of the village children? And she was on the list?

For some reason, the first image that flashed through Leticia’s mind was Pastor Marshall in the church, holding a knife and fork by candlelight, with all of them—the children—as his ingredients...

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell... What was she even thinking?!

Leticia pressed her fingers hard against her forehead, trying to shove the terrifying thought out of her mind.

It seemed that the Witch’s execution by fire had left her with a psychological scar that wouldn’t fade anytime soon...

It had even made her a little afraid of Pastor Marshall.

Still, going through something like that once in a while could teach you a lot—and help you see what other people were really like.

Pastor Marshall seemed very kind on the surface, but Leticia felt that was only one side of him.

The rage, the madness, the coldness he’d shown while the Witch was being executed had left an indelible impression on Leticia.

She couldn’t say which side was the real Pastor Marshall. But Leticia knew that in this place, shrouded in religious terror, being branded a Heretic meant the end of your life.

It was just like the standards for identifying Heretics used by the Inquisition that she’d heard about a long, long time ago (probably in her previous life):

If someone stood in front of you and stammered, that meant they were thinking up excuses. Heretic! If they blinked, that meant the questioning had made them nervous. Heretic! If they answered fluently, that meant they’d prepared in advance and practiced with their accomplices. Heretic! If they turned and ran, that meant the devil was inside them and they were running from their guilt. Heretic! If they stayed where they were, that meant the Lord’s power had suppressed the devil inside them. Heretic!

No matter what you did, you were a Heretic. It was all steeped in paranoid madness and utter irrationality.

That was what Leticia understood about this world so far.

A world where you had to be extremely careful just to survive.

If anyone discovered the secret that her soul didn’t belong to this world, she figured they’d—no, they’d absolutely—call her a Heretic and tie her to a stake, wouldn’t they?

Just thinking about that ending made it impossible for her to accept!

No matter what, she had to be careful. Very careful, Leticia!

“Leticia?”

Hearing her uncle’s voice, Leticia instantly put on a serious expression. “It’s nothing. I understand, Uncle. I’ll go right away.”