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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Having successfully completed the surgery, the group faced a new problem: they couldn’t carry the injured back to the cabin.
The treatment was just first aid, and any excessive jostling could reopen the wounds.
Fortunately, Evangeline summoned her familiar to solve the problem.
[Witch, what brings you here…?]
Fenrir, appearing from the forest, saw the bloodied Evangeline and Marguerite and frowned.
He cautiously scanned their surroundings, wary of potential enemies. Sensing no immediate threats, he approached.
[You’re injured.]
“Yes, carry us on your back. Be careful not to jostle us too much.”
[Understood.]
Fenrir lowered his body, and Johan, lifting Marguerite, climbed onto his back. True to his immense size, Fenrir’s back was large enough to carry all four of them comfortably.
Once everyone was settled, Fenrir carefully made his way back to the cabin.
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‘Should I run?’
Hecaterina, alone in the cabin, realized that not only the witches who were watching her, but even the intimidating familiar were gone. She contemplated escape.
She hesitated, knowing that in her current state, she couldn’t guarantee victory even against a weakened monster, and the forest was teeming with them… but the prolonged absence of the other witches emboldened her.
She opened the cabin door—and came face to face with Fenrir.
[Thank you.]
“S-sure…”
Fenrir lowered his body, allowing the others to dismount. Hecaterina, realizing the witches had returned, cursed her bad timing.
“What? Where are you going?”
Johan, carrying Marguerite off Fenrir’s back, saw Hecaterina standing at the door and asked.
Hecaterina waved her hands dismissively.
“Going somewhere? What are you talking about? I just heard your footsteps and opened the door.”
“…Whatever. Move.”
Johan pushed past her and entered the cabin, heading straight for Evangeline’s workshop.
He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Evangeline, following close behind, spoke.
“You made the right choice staying put.”
“What? What are you talking about…? I wasn’t planning on running away anyway.”
“If you had stepped even one foot outside, the magic I placed on you would have activated, and you would have started disintegrating from that point onward.”
Evangeline said this, then followed Johan into the workshop. Hecaterina felt a chill run down her spine.
What? She had placed a spell on her?
She hadn’t noticed anything. But it didn’t sound like a joke.
Hecaterina cautiously plucked a strand of her hair and tossed it outside.
The moment it crossed the threshold of the cabin, just as Evangeline had described, it began to disintegrate.
Hecaterina was glad she hadn’t tried to escape.
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Inside the workshop, Master laid Marguerite on a table and began treating her injuries. Johan, unfamiliar with magic, watched as she chanted incomprehensible spells, applied medicine to the wound, and poured potions down Marguerite’s throat—a series of fantastical healing rituals.
And as expected of a witch’s healing magic, the effects were just as fantastical.
The stitched wound vanished without a trace, and Marguerite, who had been unconscious, quickly opened her eyes.
“…How long was I out?”
“Three hours.”
“Not too long. Phew.”
Marguerite, seemingly unaffected by the near-fatal injury, sat up and began moving her body, checking for any lingering discomfort.
Johan, accustomed to the idea of patients needing bed rest, stared at her in surprise.
“Are… are you alright?”
“Hm? Oh—I’m fine, fine. I’m a witch. This kind of injury heals with a potion.”
“But…”
“Hey, I said I’m fine. What are you going to do if I’m not? Are you going to offer to do something for me?”
“…Anything I can.”
“—Oh?”
Marguerite’s eyes lit up. As if carefully considering what she might ask of him, she looked him up and down, her tongue darting out.
He realized he might have misspoken, but before he could retract his words, Master grabbed Marguerite’s face and pushed her back onto the table.
“Just go to sleep. What are you doing, acting like that when you’re injured…? Johan, go wait outside. I need to talk to Ritz.”
“Y-yes, ma’am…”
Forced out of the room by Master’s assertive tone, Johan returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. Immediately, Beatrice jumped onto his lap.
He gently stroked her head as she nuzzled him like a baby bird seeking affection. Hecaterina, watching this, scoffed and sat down next to him.
“Lolicon.”
“…What?”
“Pedophile.”
“What are you talking about—?”
“Enjoying playing with a little girl, huh? You rapist.”
Johan remembered that Hecaterina harbored resentment towards him, and therefore had ample reason to lash out. He chuckled and looked at her.
“Technically, I’m the younger one here…”
“So? You think anyone else sees it that way?”
“Well—it’s true…”
“Johan? What are you two talking about?”
Beatrice, seeing them talking, tilted her head and asked. Johan stroked her hair and dismissed her with a vague “nothing,” and Hecaterina smirked.
“Hey, did you know how much of a pervert he is? He comes to my room every night to rape me, and he even makes me eat food laced with his semen. You might be next.”
“…Don’t say such things to a child.”
“Pfft, see? You think of her as a child too.”
Though he knew Beatrice couldn’t hear them due to her curse, Hecaterina’s blunt words made him instinctively cover Beatrice’s ears.
Beatrice, surprised by his sudden action, looked up at him. He smiled at her, then spoke, his voice low enough only for Hecaterina to hear.
“And I don’t rape you every night.”
“Every other night is practically the same thing.”
“…And what’s this about putting semen in food?”
“Ahaan, you think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t recognize the smell of semen after being fucked senseless every day?”
He had thought she wouldn’t.
Master’s special seasoning effectively masked the smell, and he had assumed Hecaterina wouldn’t realize his semen held the secret to suppressing her magic.
If she discovered the truth, she would refuse to eat the food and try to regain her magic. It was a secret he couldn’t afford to reveal…
“I’ve been thinking. You coming to my room every night… the unknown liquid you made me drink when you brought me here…”
Hecaterina’s eyes glinted as she stared at him.
“You’re hiding something.”
He’d been found out.
By the one person he couldn’t afford to be discovered by.
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After Evangeline finished talking with Marguerite, Johan immediately informed her that Hecaterina had discovered his secret.
Evangeline simply nodded, as if expecting this. Her calm demeanor surprised Johan.
“You knew?”
“No. But it was predictable. She’s not stupid. I figured she’d find out eventually.”
Part of the blame lay with Johan. Like the Witch of Terror, who had grown stronger by feeding on others’ fear, Hecaterina was adept at reading emotions.
She had sensed Johan’s hesitation during their forced encounters, and with ample time to contemplate, she had pieced together the reason.
Though Evangeline hadn’t noticed this detail, the fact that he was having sex with Hecaterina regularly was a big enough clue.
“The fact that it took her this long… is because you, Johan, are an unprecedented being.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Someone who can nullify a witch’s curse… such a being has never existed before. It must have taken her a while to accept that possibility.”
There was no way to undo the damage now. Evangeline was the Witch of Love; she didn’t have any magic to erase memories.
She sighed and spoke, her voice devoid of emotion.
“There’s no other choice. If she resists, we’ll have to kill her.”
Her chilling words echoed in Johan’s ears.
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