The Witch’s Intentions

A profound silence settled between the two sisters, enduring for a considerable time.

It was Nina who finally broke the quiet, rising to head for the kitchen. “It’s getting late,” she announced, “I’ll go prepare dinner.”

Iordera, sensing an odd shift in the atmosphere but unable to pinpoint its cause, decided to simply clear her mind, reclining in anticipation of dinner.

“Young Lady.”

She turned her head, finding Yuna softly calling her name from where she lay nearby.

“What is it?”

“Young Lady, perhaps we should just let it go,” Yuna whispered, her voice barely audible. “Nina and I have grown accustomed to wearing these clothes over the years, after all. Juneburg isn’t safe, and there’s no need for you to put yourself in danger.”

At once, Iordera felt a surge of stubbornness. “No,” she declared, “we absolutely cannot let it go.”

This was a promise, a man’s word, and she intended to see it through!

“Then please be extra careful, Young Lady.”

“Rest assured, I’ll only be doing some simple work, nothing dangerous. At most, it will involve nothing more than a conversation.”

Sir Olcott had already given his assurance that the witch was capable of nothing more than speaking; any other action was beyond her power.

It was merely talking. Hecate wasn’t some scholar from Tongfu Inn (TL Note: A fictional inn from a popular Chinese sitcom ‘My Own Swordsman’, featuring a character known for talking people to death with philosophical arguments) who could talk her to death, could she?

Yet, later that evening, after dinner, as Iordera lay in her own bed, sleep proved elusive.

The thought persisted: the witch specifically requesting her company for conversation couldn’t possibly stem from a mere “compatibility of minds.” There had to be some underlying, peculiar reason.

Could it truly be as Nina had suggested, for a reason as scandalous as “two fingers to overturn the Young Lady”?

Iordera felt a faint warmth spread through her lower abdomen.

‘Control panel!’

[Status: Intact, no damage to limbs, energy reserve 98%

Core region undamaged, secondary core region undamaged, non-core region undamaged

No anomalies detected]

‘Nonsense! This unusual warmth in my lower abdomen must surely be a malfunction of this loli body itself.’

‘Otherwise, could my soul possibly be getting excited?’

‘I, a dignified man…’

The white-haired loli squirmed on the bed, twisting her slender legs together as if performing some impromptu leg exercises, until she finally managed to compose herself.

The same question lingered: could the witch truly harbor such intentions?

‘It couldn’t be, could it? No, it absolutely couldn’t… No way…’

Amidst the repetitive chorus of ‘no way, no way,’ Iordera slowly drifted into slumber.

Zzz

As morning dawned, Iordera gradually awoke.

It promised to be another day brimming with possibility.

She dressed, then stepped out, making her way back to the all-too-familiar confines of Juneburg Prison Cell Zero.

“Good morning, Sir Olcott, I’m here for work.”

Sir Olcott, still clutching a cup of soy milk, paused in surprise upon seeing her. “Why have you come to find me?” he asked.

“Eh?”

“Just go deliver the food directly; there’s no need to report to me.”

Iordera rubbed her small hands together. “Well, is there nothing you need to brief me on?”

“No, you’re not a newcomer; simply proceed with the meal delivery.”

“…Alright then.”

As she carried the breakfast tray towards Prison Cell Zero, Iordera’s heart began to pound with a nervous rhythm.

‘Don’t panic,’ she told herself. ‘I spent all night thinking, and the conclusion was… it’s impossible.’

‘She’s a witch, after all, someone of immense power and status before her incarceration. She must have experienced everything imaginable; there’s no logical reason for her to show me special favor for *that* reason.’

‘Indeed, any special treatment must surely be due to my inherent personal charm.’

‘Mhm.’

Nevertheless, as she reached the cell door and saw Hecate, the witch, Iordera’s nerves flared once more.

‘Even if my analysis is sound, what if… just what if?’

To be fair, despite being a witch of indeterminate age, Hecate appeared as nothing more than a delicate, beautiful young woman.

She possessed a captivating beauty, the kind that stirred the heart, even within the confines of a prison cell.

Her fingers, too, were exquisite—fair and slender… ‘Wait a moment, her nails are quite long.’

Imprisoned and without means to trim them, Hecate’s nails had naturally grown to a considerable length.

Iordera’s little heart began to thump wildly.

‘Though her fingers are delicate, those nails, once unleashed, would surely inflict armor-piercing, tearing, and bleeding damage, perhaps even a venomous effect…’

‘I would absolutely not be able to withstand that!’

“Don’t fret,” Hecate said softly, a gentle amusement in her tone. “They are rather long, I’ll admit, but perfectly clean.”

Iordera nodded instinctively, then, realizing the implication, her earlobes flushed crimson. “W-w-what are you talking about!” she stammered.

“I observed you continuously gazing at my nails and assumed you were concerned about my personal hygiene, so I merely offered an explanation,” Hecate said, tilting her head with an air of innocence. “Did I perhaps misunderstand?”

“N-no… not at all,” Iordera retorted, biting down on her lip. “Indeed, I was merely concerned about your hygiene. If there are no issues, then it’s fine.”

Silently, she placed the breakfast tray inside the cell, then retreated to the side.

‘Calm down,’ she admonished herself. ‘Don’t lose your composure; everything will be alright.’

As Hecate leisurely enjoyed her breakfast, Iordera cautiously ventured, “Um, Miss Hecate, you see, we usually just sit here, facing each other, with absolutely nothing to do. Would it be possible for me to leave and return only when it’s time to deliver your meals?”

Hecate paused, her hand hovering over her food, and asked with an air of bewilderment, “What do you mean, ‘nothing to do’?”

Iordera blinked in surprise. “There truly isn’t anything to do; we simply stare blankly at each other all day long…”

“Precisely, I watch you all day,” Hecate responded with perfect seriousness. “Isn’t that perfectly lovely?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“You are beautiful, and utterly adorable to behold, which is why I can watch you all day,” Hecate said, winking playfully. “Is there some issue with that?”

Iordera gasped, drawing in a sharp breath, and instinctively recoiled.

‘Oh no, I was too careless! A lesbian is indeed right beside me!’

“However, it’s not as if there’s nothing to discuss,” Hecate said, setting down her breakfast plate and gracefully stretching her swan-like neck. “Tell me your story, or perhaps the unspoken worries that have been weighing on your heart?”

Iordera’s brow furrowed.

The words sounded eerily familiar; it seemed the witch had been fixated on this topic since the very first day.

“How about this: you ask me a question first,” Hecate proposed. “We can engage in a fair exchange, what do you say?”

Iordera’s lips parted slightly.

This was undeniably tempting. Hecate, a witch of over ninety levels and one of the continent’s most formidable beings, possessed an aura of both mystery and allure.

A single, casual remark from her lips could potentially conceal a clue to a treasure vast enough to rival a nation, or perhaps reveal a world-shattering forbidden spell, or even a secret capable of overthrowing the prevailing government.

Yet, after a prolonged hesitation, Iordera finally posed her question: “Are those rumors true?”

Hecate paused, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “What rumors are you referring to?”

“The ones concerning your imprisonment, your alleged crimes,” Iordera explained, ticking them off on her fingers. “Things like genocide, the slaughter of cities, and so forth.”

“Is that truly so important?” Hecate replied with a soft smile. “I’m only answering one question, and you might be missing out on a great deal, you know?”

“It’s very important,” Iordera affirmed, nodding emphatically.

If those accusations were true, then there would be no point in continuing their conversation. How could Iordera possibly trust the words of a genocidal witch?

“Very well, then I shall answer your question,” Hecate said, her expression growing serious. “I do possess such capabilities, but I have not committed those acts. There was no necessity, nor any benefit to be gained.”

“Then how did you…”

“My teacher and I found ourselves at odds over a certain matter, and to ensure I wouldn’t interfere with her plans, she simply laid all these crimes at my feet,” Hecate stated dispassionately. “That is the long and short of it.”

“She merely claimed you did it, and everyone else just accepted you as a witch?” Iordera exclaimed, finding it utterly unbelievable.

Hecate let out a soft, knowing chuckle. “My dear, she is Sheila, the Guardian of humanity.”