Chapter 26
“Who is that woman?”
Once again linking part of his awareness to Leticia’s vision, Stano looked at the strange environment and the grimly dressed woman before her, his face filled with doubt.
“How should I know?”
Leticia snapped. After all, whatever happened next, she would be the one to suffer.
“Hey, can’t you lighten up a bit...”
Stano sat at his desk, a heavy book in hand, flipping through absentmindedly. “I was just thinking of ways to get you out safely, you know?”
“It’s nice you thought of that. But forget it—I don’t want to say anything more.”
If only their mental link conveyed expressions—if Stano could see her frosty glare right now, he might be too stunned to speak.
Leaving aside their murderous banter, the reality was this: Leticia sat on a wobbly stool, staring idly at the black-robed woman by the table.
She didn’t stand because her ankle was chained.
Imprisoned.
Though the woman had said she wouldn’t kill her, Leticia’s heart still trembled. What if it was only a cruel trick?
The chain was no thicker than a finger, rusted all over. It looked like it could snap with a good pull. Its other end was fixed to the wooden wall—also flimsy-looking.
But Leticia dared not move...
Her scrawny arms and legs were no match for anything. If she still had her old body, even weakened by years of being a shut-in, she’d have stood a chance. But now—back aching, legs cramping—she could barely even rise.
Damn Stano!
So she sat obediently, like a kept pet, humiliatingly small.
Suddenly fearing the brat might hijack her body and blurt nonsense, she quickly said: “Just watch quietly, okay? Don’t stir up trouble again—I beg you!”
“...Fine.”
Stano shrugged, turning his attention back to the book.
It was richly bound, with a leather cover with golden corners. A Church tome. He had opened the section on heresies.
“The world’s heresies began with the demons sealed by the Lord...”
It recounted how the great god had sealed away devils in the abyss, only for them to leak traces of power into the world—corrupting the weak, dragging them into darkness, all in order to free their master.
“After all that, it’s basically saying nothing...”
Stano muttered. He knew the truth of how to identify “heresies” was surely guarded within the Church itself.
Piecing together his year of observations, he could now conclude: this Leticia was one of those “heretics.” At first, he thought it was divine guidance. Now it seemed ironic.
But strangely—she herself didn’t even think she was one. She longed only for a normal life, never spoke strange words, never behaved oddly. She was just... normal.
And yet, ever since knowing her, the Banson family’s luck had soured.
His uncle had been executed, denied even a burial.
Fingers clenched tight, Stano took a deep breath, forcing himself calm.
She was a heretic.
By contacting her, he had been stained.
But he could atone—use her, make her repay the evil she had brought.
He was righteous, he was right. He was the heir of the Banson family, destined for a bright future. He would not become the sinner the Church warned of.
He had not yet fallen.
As long as he used this heretic...
Meanwhile, in the hut—“Hehehe...”
The rasping voice grated as the black-robed woman brought over a small steaming bowl of... something. She set it by Leticia’s feet.
“Hungry? Then eat. Hehehe...”
Leticia blinked in disbelief. Not a blow—but a gift?
The bowl was small, the mush inside oddly colored, but it smelled edible.
Her stomach clenched, demanding food.
“Th-thank you...”
She carefully bent to pick it up.
“Ah!”
She hadn’t expected the bowl’s surface to be covered in tiny spikes—burning hot too, no insulation at all.
Her hand jerked, nearly dropping it, but she steadied herself. Scalding mush splashed onto her hands, legs, feet, raising angry red welts.
Tears nearly burst free.
“What’s wrong? Not eating?”
The woman’s eyes bore into her. “If you’re not hungry, I’ll take it back.”
Cold. Unfeeling. As if she weren’t looking at a living being at all.
And yet... in their depths, a flicker of surprise.
“N-no, I’ll eat. Thank you.”
Gritting her teeth, Leticia plunged her hand into the bowl, scooping it directly.
In one day, she had been ripped from the warm pond of her new life, dragged into the black forest, surrounded by cackling demons, reduced to prey, plaything, dust.
One misstep meant death.
Now she could rely on no one but herself.
And she would survive.
Head bowed, Leticia only hid one thing—that a single shining tear had fallen into the bowl.