TWCMH 08

Chapter 08

**To You Who Called Me a Temptress**

Overwhelmed by the pressure as if a massive war chariot was charging at him, Dietrich instinctively stepped back, and in that instant, his body flew through the air.

He was thrown back about two meters and tumbled across the floor. Seizing the gap, Periart kicked the closed door.

*CRASH!*

With a single kick from the bear-like man, the firmly locked wooden door burst wide open as if shattered.

Dietrich scrambled to his feet and glared at Periart, but the man instead glared back at him, the one who had mocked Lampez, with a warning in his eyes.

Parting through the space between them, Hugo stepped into the old hut.

Dietrich, hastily rising from his spot, pushed past the knights trying to enter and went inside first.

She wasn’t there.

Fortunately, while he had been buying time, his sister seemed to have hidden in ‘that place’ they had prearranged.

Invisible relief washed over him. Dietrich composed his expression and then made an even bigger scene, his intention being to focus all their attention solely on himself.

“Didn’t I tell you! I don’t know what you’re looking for, but there’s nothing here. There’s not even a place to hide anything in such a small hut.”

Just as he said, it was a pathetically shabby place to hide anything.

A place where only the bedroom and kitchen were barely partitioned by pillars and walls…

His cool blue eyes slowly surveyed the hut.

Though his sense of smell was numb, he couldn’t tell what scent filled the house, but he could at least tell that it was filled with warmth for a house with no one inside.

He approached the hearth and placed his hand over the cast iron pot hanging from the latch.

The fire was out, but the steaming heat moistened his palm, warm and damp. It was clear that it had just begun to boil before being extinguished.

Hugo quietly peered into the black, heavy pot and asked Dietrich.

“Were you in the middle of cooking when you went out?”

“…Yes.”

“What ingredients did you use?”

“…Excuse me?”

“If you were the one cooking, you should be able to tell me what ingredients you used.”

“……”

“If not, that means someone else was cooking before you came in.”

As if urging him to answer, Hugo turned to look at Dietrich, and the young man’s face hardened like stone.

Identifying the dish by smell was impossible, as the scent of herbs filled the entire house. Even if Dietrich was accustomed to the house’s smell, it was impossible to discern the ingredients through that overpowering odor.

“That… it’s just something I threw together with whatever was available, so there’s no special ingredients.”

Hugo’s blue eyes stared intently at Dietrich. Those eyes, as cold as a lake on a snowy day, made Dietrich more anxious than any words could.

A cold, slight smile curved on Hugo’s lips as he slowly paced inside the hut.

The wooden floorboards creaked and groaned under the weight of his heavy-soled combat boots.

For someone hiding without daring to breathe, it was a sound like a nightmare.

Then.

He stopped in front of the small bed, bent down, and pulled something out from underneath. A thin, worn woman’s garment was dragged out pitifully along with his hand.

As if demanding an explanation for this as well, Hugo turned to look at Dietrich.

“…I told you. There’s a woman who visits sometimes.”

Dietrich tried his best not to let his voice tremble, but the end of his words wavered. To hide his anxiety, he shouted angrily.

“What on earth are you looking for! You burst in here talking about a witch! What is this witch even…!”

“One that emits a fragrance.”

Hugo cut off Dietrich’s words.

Rising from his spot, he cast his gaze toward the knights waiting for him.

“One that corrupts humans.”

The sound of his footsteps grew stronger.

“One whose very existence is a sin.”

The small hut, now filled with large men, rumbled. The knights who had entered without hesitation stopped abruptly and frowned.

“Vile! What is that smell?”

“Ugh, I feel sick. I want to run right out…”

“Did they hide a corpse in here or something?”

As if they had smelled a terrible stench, the knights involuntarily covered their noses and mouths as they searched the house.

“Does this place look like a place where a flower would reside to you?”

Dietrich, swallowing curses between his teeth, glared at the men who were ransacking the hut, his face looking as if he wanted to scream.

And then, finally.

“…Well.”

Beatrix, who had discovered a small door hidden beneath an old table, turned to look at Hugo.

“Flowers bloom anywhere.”

Hugo knelt beside Beatrix, who had stepped aside. His fingertips quietly traced the gap in the wood, then stopped at a certain point.

At the same time, he suddenly raised his head and looked at Dietrich. A face as pale as white paper, eyes trembling without being able to hide his emotions.

The young man couldn’t hide his feelings at all. The despair in the man’s eyes as he stared at Hugo’s fingertips was stark.

Twisting the corner of his mouth, Hugo let out a low chuckle and unhesitatingly slipped his hand into the gap in the wood. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted the hidden wooden door.

Inside the hidden small space, a woman with a deathly pale face looked up at him.

Meeting her clear, fresh green eyes, as vibrant as new sprouts, Hugo gave a short command.

“Pull her out.”

—

*Let go, let go of me! Diet! Dietrich!”*

She screamed until her throat was raw.

Not wanting to be dragged away, she put all her strength into her limbs and struggled, but the cold hands dragged her out without mercy.

“Ugh, good heavens. This is supposed to be a Flona…”

At someone’s disgusted mutter, unable to bear the stench, Roelia looked at Hugo Brighton with tear-filled eyes and cried out.

“I-I’m not the Flona you think I am! H-how could a witch or a flower look like this ragged mess! Please spare me, I beg you, please spare me!”

If she could, she wanted to prove just how filthy and wretched she was.

A flower. She desperately cried out that she was never such a beautiful being, but the icy eyes staring at her showed no wavering.

“Don’t let yourselves be deceived, everyone. Drag her along. This woman is a witch.”

…Why? Why am I a witch? Why are you so certain?

Her terrified face turned pale.

Her chapped lips trembling, she shook her head, but no one looked at her with pity.

She felt like she would go mad with injustice.

She had abandoned the cemetery grounds and was hiding in this deep forest because she didn’t want to be discovered by anyone.

And yet, wasn’t it they who had sought her out and dragged her out? So why wouldn’t they believe her, why…

“No, I’m not! Please don’t do this. Please, I beg you, spare me!”

Before those cold, frost-like blue eyes, Roelia pathetically clasped her hands together and begged.

If she was dragged away like this, she would undoubtedly be executed as a witch.

In this country, Gargo, the religious order held absolute power. It was only natural, as they proclaimed that this country was founded around God itself, starting from the founding myth.

However, as time passed, the royal family had sought to take power away from the religious order, and up until the previous reign, they had succeeded to some extent.

That is, until the ‘Demon Beast’ appeared in the world.

With the emergence of the ‘Black Lands,’ referred to as a small catastrophe, the status of the religious order rose once again.

Because divine power was the most powerful force in eliminating the ‘Demon Beasts’ that defiled the world.

Of course, there were also mages, but Gargo, which had started as a divine state, had developed around priests and holy knights rather than mages.

Although the state was now pouring support into training mages, they were far behind compared to other countries.

The royal family had no choice but to join hands with the religious order again.

People feared and revered the Paladins, the knights of the sun god Ademors. At the same time, they were beings who certainly protected people from demon beasts, heresy, and war.

Knights who burned away the darkness and erased shadows. They punished demon beasts and demons, and judged the heretics who lured and seduced humans.

The purest and coldest. The rational yet blind. Those who mercilessly punished even the slightest speck of impurity—that was what the Paladins were.

To them, the Flona was a witch. A wicked being that bewitched people, paralyzed their reason, and made them betray God.

So if she was dragged away by them, she would die. She would surely die.

‘…I don’t want to die. I’m scared. No!’