The Coccyx Ring

“After I escaped, I was afraid they’d put out a warrant for me, so I didn’t dare go back to my old masters,” Frank confessed, tears welling in his eyes. “I just wanted to find a way to get some money, then leave Junborg…”

“So that’s how you stumbled upon that commission?” Iordera’s smile held a hint of amusement.

“Yes… The commission just said ‘odd jobs,’ and there were no clauses about compensation. I… I had no other choice. There was simply no other way at that time.”

Clink. Two gold coins dropped at his feet.

“Alright, this is the travel money Andrew and the others gave you. Take it and get out,” Iordera said, her voice chilling. “Don’t ever come back to Junborg.”

Such a waste of space, they would only drive up the price of rice if allowed to live. It was purely for the sake of their neighbor, Uncle Andrew, that she even parted with a single silver coin. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have given him anything.

Frank, oblivious to the injury on his right hand, swiftly snatched up the gold coins, bowing repeatedly. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll pack my things and leave immediately. I’ll never come back… I’ll never leave the town again.”

Iordera departed from the Bamboo Enclave.

Yet, during her time there, she had stumbled upon a wealth of unexpected information.

Frank’s words carried a certain credibility, for Iordera herself had previously sensed something amiss in the guards’ attitude towards the masked figures.

If everything he said was true, then a bold hypothesis could be formed: the patrol guards and the masked figures were, in fact, working together, and every attack and subsequent suppression was nothing more than a pre-arranged performance.

This theory would explain why, when Frank and his group appeared, impersonating the masked figures, the guards panicked, realizing these weren’t their own people—believing genuine witch’s minions had come to wreak havoc.

In their overzealous reaction, the guards mercilessly attacked Frank’s group, only to discover their opponents were remarkably weak.

They broke legs to capture survivors, and upon interrogation, it would be revealed that these were merely unemployed drifters from a small town, attempting to pose as bandits for a quick score.

No, this wasn’t enough; she needed to find corroborating evidence to truly verify the claims.

Furthermore, if this suspicion proved true, it would signify a far greater problem.

Should the city’s upper echelons, particularly the Lord, be compromised, it would indeed spell disaster.

Could the Lord, who appeared so trustworthy and in whom everyone placed such high hopes, truly be the mastermind behind it all?

Iordera’s brow furrowed deeply.

Whether the Lord was a good person or not held little importance for her; what mattered were Andrew and his companions, who served the Lord.

If the Lord were the true orchestrator, their situation would become perilous.

Could the Lord’s grand scheme, that alchemy project, be the crucial element?

“What are you thinking about?”

Hecate gazed calmly at the white-haired loli at the doorway, her tone mild. “Ever since you returned, you’ve been sitting there with a troubled expression, not saying a word. Did your search not go well?”

“No, the search went quite smoothly,” Iordera began, then hesitated. “It’s just that… other things didn’t go so well.”

Hecate didn’t press further, merely responding with a gentle voice, “Then I wish you well in those endeavors… Oh, and did you give your gift to Sir Olcott?”

“I did.”

“What was his reaction?” Hecate inquired.

“What reaction could there be? It was just a silver coin’s worth, probably nothing he’d even care for,” Iordera said dismissively. “It was just a token of appreciation; the thought counts, that’s all.”

“So expressing gratitude requires a gift, I see,” Hecate murmured languidly. “My dear, I am also very grateful to you, for your companionship these past few days. It’s been a long time since anyone chatted with me like this, just like a good friend.”

A sudden chill ran through Iordera’s heart. “No, no, there’s no need. It’s just work.”

The witch’s unexpected sentimentality filled her with unease.

Hecate reached both hands behind her head, retrieving a small object from her long grey hair. “I am currently sealed, and possess nothing of great value, so I can only offer you this. Please don’t despise it.”

Iordera instinctively recoiled a step, a look of distaste on her face.

The witch raised an eyebrow.

“No, no, no, don’t misunderstand. I’m not despising your gift, it’s just… given your current status, I wouldn’t dare accept anything from you, right? Those who know, know.”

“There’s no need to worry. This is merely something that barely qualifies as an ornament; it holds no other function,” Hecate said, extending it forward.

Iordera saw it clearly: a small, white ring.

Its whiteness was unsettling.

“A jade thumb ring (TL Note: A ring traditionally worn by archers on their thumb)?”

Hecate chuckled softly. “While I appreciate your high regard, I must apologize; it is merely a bone joint.”

“…Huh?”

“Many years ago, I sustained a grave injury during a war I participated in. It was a particularly insidious magic, gradually eroding and infecting my very being,” Hecate’s voice once again grew ethereal, just as it had been during their first meeting. “To heal myself, I was compelled to resort to a peculiar method.”

“What kind of method?” Iordera asked, curiosity piqued.

“To offer an analogy, if your hand were injured, infected, and poisoned, prompt amputation would be necessary,” Hecate said, smiling as she feigned shyness and lowered her head. “At that time, I had no choice but to undergo a complete ‘amputation’ of my own existence.”

“Huh?”

Iordera blinked in bewilderment, utterly failing to grasp her meaning.

“Let me put it this way: before that injury, my apparent age was 24, a mature and beautiful older sister, you see~” Hecate said with a cheerful laugh.

Her smile was even a little sweet.

Iordera was utterly stunned. “That formidable?”

“Yes, back then, I believe this area of mine was about this size,” Hecate said, cupping her hands in front of her chest as if cradling a watermelon. “It used to be quite a bother.”

Larger than even Yuna used to be? Iordera subconsciously glanced over, ‘Good heavens, now it’s only a C-cup.’ (TL Note: ‘C+’ here refers to bra cup size, implying significant reduction.)

The weakening was truly severe…

“In essence, after the ‘amputation,’ the excess parts of my body were mostly eroded and quickly necrotized. However, some portions, for the sake of overall aesthetics, had to be trimmed a little more,” Hecate explained, pointing to the bone ring. “Like this.”

“It’s…?”

“My coccyx, the part that was excessively removed,” Hecate said, a touch of nostalgia gracing her features. “I had it fashioned into a ring, as a memento of my former self.”

“And now, I’m giving it to you as a gift.”

Iordera involuntarily took another step back.

‘The coccyx, isn’t that the very end of the spine, the bone right above the buttocks… Who would dare accept a ring made from something like that!’

“You can rest assured; when Sheila personally imprisoned me, all useful items on my person were confiscated. This is merely a useless ornament,” Hecate said, extending her hand forward. “My dear, I have never lied to you.”

Iordera nervously rubbed her hands together. “So, it’s not that issue, it’s mainly…”

‘The main thing is, one simply doesn’t touch a witch’s backside (TL Note: A Chinese idiom, ‘pig-buttocks are untouchable,’ implying something is too taboo or dangerous to get involved with, often used humorously).’

“I appreciate the sentiment, but consider this: with your current status, if I were to carry your item outside and someone discovered it, what if I were arrested as an accomplice?” She quickly formulated a plausible excuse.