Witch Taming System-Chapter 39: Leticia Herscher [2]

"Don’t do that. The organization isn’t naive."

Lancel frowned. What the hell was she even saying? If anything went wrong now, everything he had been planning for would fall apart.

"Hehe~ You’re really scared, Mister Lancel. Want me to set you free?"

"...Yes."

"Then be a good boy."

While Leticia had kept him detained, truthfully, she had treated him quite well.

Never before had Lancel eaten more than two proper meals a day. Never before had he been given a warm bath without being rushed, or a bed that didn’t feel like a temporary place to sleep in.

Here, he had all of that. Food, rest, and space.

She even kept him company. Talked to him as if he wasn’t a prisoner, as if he was just someone passing time with her. At times, she would bring out simple games, forcing him to play along, watching his reactions more than the game itself.

It was strange.

And that made it harder to understand what she actually wanted from him.

"Bark, Lancel! Bark!"

"...Just kill me."

"You’re really no fun..." Leticia pouted.

No, that wasn’t it.

She was treating him like a pet dog.

A month passed.

Then another.

By the third month, the binding spell around him came undone.

Lancel blinked, startled for a second before he slowly stood up. He tested his limbs cautiously, as if expecting some kind of catch.

"...Just like that?"

"Mhm."

"You’re really letting me go?"

"Mhm."

Lancel frowned, staring at her.

"...You do realize you were my target, right?"

"Mhm."

Leticia just sat there with a warm smile, her chin resting on her palms as she nodded along to everything he said without the slightest bit of concern.

No matter how he looked at her, no matter how he tried to read her, he couldn’t understand what she was thinking at all.

"Just what do you want from me?"

"Do you still want to kill me, Mister Lancel?"

In just the span of three months, Lancel’s entire perspective had shifted. If someone asked him now whether he could go through with it, he wouldn’t be able to answer the same way as before.

The intent was still there, but it wasn’t as simple anymore.

Never before had anyone treated him this warmly. Like he wasn’t just a tool meant for killing.

Minus the restraints, of course.

"Or do you want me to help you?"

"...."

An opportunity like this didn’t come twice. He didn’t know the full extent of Leticia’s influence among witches, but he knew enough.

She wasn’t just some random field researcher, but someone born of nobility. That probably meant something, right?

After all, every noble he had encountered before, no matter how scummy, had connections that stretched everywhere.

Of course, none of that mattered once their throats were slit.

"Help me how?"

"Let’s make a convincing death. For both you and me."

"What?"

"Just like how you’re trying to run away from your organization... I’m trying to run away from Riviere."

She said it so casually, like it didn’t mean anything.

Like it was just another passing thought.

And yet, she didn’t stop smiling.

Lancel frowned, the confusion only growing as he stared at her, waiting for more.

But she didn’t care to elaborate.

* * *

Days spent living with Leticia felt... refreshing.

They didn’t have anything permanent. With no proper place to stay, they moved from one lodging to another, stopping at whatever town they passed through.

By that point, Lancel already knew he had become a deserter. Someone who had abandoned his mission halfway through.

But he didn’t care.

For some reason, he felt like Leticia could handle anything the organization might send after them. If they could even track them down in the first place.

But still, Lancel knew better. He knew how the Leviathan Group operated and how thorough they were.

He wouldn’t be surprised if one day, they showed up right at their doorstep all of a sudden.

"Lancel, it’s your move."

"Ah... right."

They played chess.

"Lancel, how were you even able to catch all those fish without magic?!"

"You just don’t have patience."

They went fishing.

"Ah, shit. It burnt again."

"Remind me to never let you cook again, Lancel!"

They cooked dinner together.

"Lancel, this outfit looks weird."

"It’s because you put it on wrong."

"...Oh."

They bought clothes in passing towns.

"Why are you staring like that?"

"You’re smiling again, Lancel."

"...Am I?"

They walked through the streets.

"Lancel, carry this."

"You can carry it yourself."

"But I don’t want to."

"...Give it here."

They traveled from town to town.

Days passed like that. It was simple, but Lancel was already starting to feel uneasy. Even after all that time, he still couldn’t get a proper read on Leticia.

So, he had to ask.

"Why are you running away from Riviere?"

They were sitting across from each other with a small table between them. Leticia had been about to take a sip of her tea when he spoke, tilting her head.

"Oh? You’re finally curious?"

"I just thought you wouldn’t tell me."

"It’s not that," she said. "I just don’t think it’s a good topic to start with."

"Why?"

Leticia hummed, looking at him with a thoughtful expression as she lowered her cup without taking a sip.

"What’s your opinion on destiny, Lancel?"

"I don’t believe in it."

Lancel’s destiny had always been with the Leviathan Group. He was born there, raised there, and meant to die there.

But Leticia had broken that. She had pulled him out of his fate and had broken through everything that had been set in place for him.

So in a way, he was grateful to her.

As childish as it sounded, a part of him wished these days would just continue like this.

"You see," Leticia said, "I was born from a rather ambitious line of witches. Have you ever heard of the term, Grand Witch?"

"I’ve heard of it," Lancel replied. "But I wouldn’t say I’m familiar."

Within the Leviathan Group, there was one rule that every witch hunter followed.

Never engage the Grand Witch.

If you did, death was certain.

"I’m the descendant of the very first Grand Witch."

"...I see?"

Lancel had already assumed she wasn’t ordinary. That much had been obvious from the start.

Even so, he couldn’t fully grasp what that actually meant.

Leticia let out a laugh.

"Hehe. You look confused. Let me explain. I’m someone who’s fated to die."

"...."

Lancel swallowed deeply. This was beyond what he had expected. The way she said it, so casually, without even a change in her expression, made his stomach twist and turn.

"...Fated to die?"

"To be a Herscher," she began, "means carrying on what the First Grand Witch left behind."

She paused, as if organizing her thoughts.

"Let me put it in a way you’ll understand. There’s something like a power anchor that wraps around this world. A mantle. It acts as a barrier that suppresses the gaze of things beyond our reach. Outer Gods."

"...."

"It’s not absolute, but it’s strong. Strong enough to keep most things out. But a barrier like that doesn’t sustain itself."

Her gaze lowered, a bitter expression on her face.

"It needs a source. That’s where the Herschers come in."

"...."

"The First Grand Witch was a Herscher. Because of that, only a Herscher can sustain the mantle. Only we can serve as that source."

She let out a small breath.

"But I don’t want that."

"...."

"As selfish as it sounds... I don’t want to die."

"...."

To sustain that kind of power, the cost was obvious.

A Herscher’s life followed a fixed cycle. Live. Learn everything expected of them. Pass it on to the next generation. Then, in the end, offer themselves as the source that kept the mantle in place.

To put it simply, the First Grand Witch had cursed her own lineage to that cycle. A system of death and rebirth that none of them could avoid.

"Am I wrong for wanting to live, Lancel?"