A Witch’s Secret and a Lover’s Fury

In the dimly lit bedroom of the Sanctum, two dark-haired maidens, clad in delicate silk nightgowns, lay nestled within a luxurious velvet bed.

Hours earlier, Saranya had defeated Phillo, who had then slunk back to his quarters in disgrace.

Afterward, Cecilia, uneasy about Aquilis being left alone at the tavern, had returned ahead of them.

Seeing that it was late, Paresha had simply arranged for Saranya and Kaelan to stay overnight at the Sanctum, settling them into this opulent room.

Though the hour had long passed midnight, Saranya found herself utterly devoid of sleep.

She gazed up at the crystalline chandelier adorning the ceiling, her eyes fixed absently on the teardrop-shaped pendants, each the size of a goose egg.

Her eyelids were swollen, and her pupils held a faint reddish hue.

At that moment, Phillo had deliberately provoked her.

As a Silver-Armored Divine Guard of the highest rank, Phillo was certainly no ignorant fool.

The harsh words he had uttered were a calculated blend of intimidation and instigation, having already prepared for two potential outcomes.

In the first scenario, if she had been intimidated and offered an apology to Paresha, Phillo would have achieved his objective.

The second scenario, which had actually unfolded, saw her enraged into a full-blown confrontation with Phillo.

Phillo, likely aware he couldn’t defeat her, had merely intended to gauge Saranya’s strength and assess her suitability for tomorrow’s comrade challenge.

Yet, neither Phillo nor Saranya herself had anticipated the sheer intensity of her reaction—a rage so profound it made her want to sever Phillo’s limbs in public.

She had lost control; it wasn’t the first time, and she feared that side of herself.

“You then…”

Kaelan’s voice resonated beside her.

“You were like a madwoman; I don’t like you that way. Was it because Phillo offended your deceased comrades?”

“Partially, I suppose… yes…”

With one arm pressed against her forehead, Saranya’s voice was weary, her answer ambiguous, as she concealed another part of the reason.

‘Why had she reacted that way?’

‘Because for her master, she had sacrificed her dignity, her freedom, and even the very thought of avenging her comrades was steadily fading.’

‘Because when Phillo had uttered those words, she had abruptly realized that she, this fallen wretch, had already given too much to Kaelan—there was no turning back now.’

‘She was, quite simply, unable to leave her master.’

‘And it was in this state that Phillo’s threats simultaneously reminded her that her master’s situation was growing increasingly perilous.’

Currently, those privy to her master’s identity as a witch included Paresha, Phillo, Cecilia, and Mejga.

Mejga, intent on having her return to him, her brother, would undoubtedly view Kaelan as a clear enemy, eager to eliminate her swiftly.

As Mejga’s collaborator, Lucius had likely also learned of her master’s identity.

Extrapolating further, she wondered if the Weinshield family, or even Vero’s City Council, might already be devising a plan to capture her master.

Should they intentionally spread this news, would her master become a target for all, facing encirclement and suppression from multiple factions?

‘The more she considered it, the more terrifying it became.’

Anyone suspected of being a witch was to be dragged to court, endure a cruel judgment, and then cast into the most barren and squalid slums of the lower city for seven days and seven nights.

Ostensibly, this was to “allow the most wicked witches to atone for their sins to the most wretched victims,” but in truth, it was to unleash the vile scum upon a scapegoat, allowing them to freely vent their grievances and desires upon the witch.

Only when the witch drew her last breath would she then be bound to a stake and burned alive…

At this thought, despair seized her heart, and Saranya’s own heart pounded wildly.

She immediately shifted her gaze, her eyes meeting Kaelan’s.

“Master…”

“Hm?”

Kaelan, of course, remained oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts swirling within Saranya’s mind, her expression perpetually calm and detached.

‘And such a master could only ever belong to her alone…’

‘Therefore, if ever the day came when Kaelan’s identity was truly exposed, and she had to face such a fate, Saranya would not hand Kaelan over to anyone else.’

‘She would be the one to judge Kaelan.’

‘Indeed, if all this was inevitable, if her master absolutely had to be harmed, to be violated… then let Saranya be the perpetrator.’

‘Let her be the one to violate her master herself…’

‘Her master was hers, and hers alone… only she had the right to do this.’

Saranya licked her parched lips, then leaned close to her master’s neck, exhaling a scorching breath upon her.

“Master, I wish to replenish my magic energy…”

Feeling Saranya’s warmth, Kaelan shivered slightly, her tone remaining as cold as ice.

“You haven’t used any magic recently, have you, so why do you need to replenish it?

Besides, that day I only taught you ‘Ice Armor,’ a spell that doesn’t consume much of your magic power.

Though the magic energy your body can currently hold is less than even the weakest apprentice mage, it’s still enough to cast Ice Armor two or three times.

There’s no need to force more…”

“Saranya, are you listening?”

“Saran… why are you crying?”

Saranya let her tears fall freely from the corners of her eyes, then gently closed her pearly teeth, biting into Kaelan’s delicate neck flesh.

“Hiss—ah…”

Kaelan trembled slightly, her arm rising only to slowly lower again, choosing not to resist.

Saranya rolled over, and as a sword maiden, being taller and considerably larger than Kaelan, she easily pinned her beneath her.

Beneath her, Kaelan remained silent and motionless, like a lifeless rag doll.

Saranya did not inflict a deep wound upon Kaelan; she knew full well that her aim was not to draw Kaelan’s blood, but merely to revel in the process itself.

“Were they that important to you?”

Kaelan calmly regulated her breathing before posing the question.

Saranya was vigorously suckling at her master’s neck flesh, producing a wet, slurping sound.

Upon hearing the question, she briefly drew her lips away with a soft ‘pop’.

“Who?”

“Your comrades, the ones I killed.”

“Hm… so don’t misunderstand, I will always hate you…”

The latter half of Saranya’s sentence sounded more like a reminder to herself.

Beneath her, Kaelan’s eyes darkened, as if heavy memories had been stirred.

“So, they were important to you, I understand…”

Saranya parted her lips once more, greedily extending her fragrant tongue to coil the bead of blood seeping from her master’s wound into her mouth.

“You too…”

“Eh?”

The Legion Commander lifted her head again, her damp eyelashes brushing Kaelan’s earlobe, then parted her lips to lightly take the blood-red agate earring dangling beneath Kaelan’s right ear into her mouth.

Kaelan fell into a daze, her crimson cheeks almost steaming, and her breathing grew ragged.

Yet, true to her unknown age as a half-elf witch, Kaelan’s emotions were far more stable than Saranya’s.

She quickly recovered from her momentary stupor, a faint, self-deprecating smile curving her lips.

“Heh… hm… you fool.”

Saranya giggled foolishly, her mind already hazy, casting her earlier worries aside.

“Master… let’s do this again tomorrow night, alright?”

Kaelan offered no reply, instead suddenly leaning closer to Saranya and lightly licking her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

Saranya immediately felt herself ignite, and she recklessly lunged to kiss Kaelan, only to meet the same outcome as always: Kaelan tilted her head away, and Saranya merely kissed one of her fragrant cheeks.

“Tomorrow’s comrade challenge and theological debate will be held together.

If you win, I’ll agree to your request, and I’ll tell you all my plans for Vero in bed.

Then… I can even prepare a special reward for you; you’ll surely love it~”