Mirabelle stood dazed before the scene unfolding before her eyes.
Her lips were dry, her mind blank, and her heart pounded painfully—
—with her eyes fixed on the skull, unable to look away.
That's… him?
That skull is Dad?
A notorious criminal?
He tried to hide a witch?
It can't be.
There must be some misunderstanding.
Mirabelle remembered that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. Just a few months ago, in this very place, he had coldly cast her away. She couldn't believe that such a man had died as a criminal.
She had been absolutely certain he had sold her off and survived on his own.
Mirabelle's head was spinning.
This situation was nothing less than confusing.
At that moment, Karami, who had been watching from the side, stroked his chin and shared his thoughts in a serious tone.
"Hmm, if I were to summarize the situation, he was caught. The Knight Order must have noticed your existence."
Witches inherited their power from mother to daughter.
So when the knights and clergy learned of a daughter in the couple's household, they pursued them to this city.
"Thinking he might die if he stayed with a witch, the man sold you to a slave trader. Killing two birds with one stone by making some money in the process."
Though he had gotten rid of the witch, there was still a record of their association. So the Knight Order came looking for the man.
"The Knight Order found this man and said they would spare his life if he handed you over, but he couldn't. Even if he wanted to, it was impossible. Because by that point, Miss Mirabelle had already been sold as a slave and left the city."
Karami's voice flowed smoothly into Mirabelle's ears.
"But the Knight Order thought he was intentionally hiding her. She was his daughter, after all. Who would think a man would sell his own daughter into slavery?"
Is that… so?
"In the end, he couldn't prove his innocence and was executed. He dug his own grave, falling into the trap he set himself. Isn't it ironic?"
Yep, that must be it. Karami's analysis was spot on. The man abandoned her and ended up dead because of it.
"Haha…"
Mirabelle smiled.
But it was an awkward, unnatural smile.
More like a facial spasm than genuine laughter.
The man who sold her was executed and made into a spectacle. It should be a satisfying story. She should be able to feel liberated with a sense of relief.
And yet, for some reason, there was an unsettling feeling inside her.
Was it because her target for revenge had disappeared, leaving her feeling empty? Like Colton had once warned?
It was subtly different from that.
Her chest felt tight.
Why was that?
It felt like she was missing something important.
What was Dad's last expression like?
A pale complexion, like someone chased by ghosts.
He handed her over to the slave trader with rough hands.
The look in his eyes was…
"…"
She couldn't quite remember.
"After all that hard work for revenge, he went and died comfortably on his own. Selfish to the end, that man. But it's alright. We have the magic you learned, don't we?"
Magic that could manipulate souls.
With that, she could still carry out the unfinished revenge.
If she could complete her revenge with her own hands, surely this stifling knot in her chest would unravel. Certainly.
"Let's start with the girl next to him. She died unjustly, so wouldn't it be good to ease her resentment?"
Mirabelle slowly nodded her heavy head and moved the Heavenly Covenant towards the skull. She channeled her mana and cast the spell.
But nothing happened.
"Perhaps the passage of time has eroded their soul, or maybe she left this world without any lingering attachments to life."
Normally, Mirabelle would have wondered how her master knew so much, but right now her thoughts didn't wander in that direction.
It was the man's turn next.
The anxiety of what she would do if the man's soul didn't appear, just like the girl's, echoed in her chest over and over.
"Miss Mirabelle, shall we hear directly from his mouth? Let him explain why he threw you away."
Mirabelle's staff trembled unsteadily as it moved to the side.
And once again, she cast the spell.
Saaah…
This time, something changed.
A burst of white light flooded the dawn square.
The skull began to glow.
A shimmering white haze flowed to the ground like smoke.
Layer upon layer, the smoke accumulated.
Slowly, the hazy form grew clearer and…
"Ah…"
Mixed with Mirabelle's gasp, it took on a complete form.
What appeared was a man.
A middle-aged man with gentle features.
As he slowly turned his head to look around, Mirabelle called out in a low voice.
"Dad…?"
The man's name was Harold.
Harold's gaze, responding to the sound, fell upon Mirabelle. When their eyes met, Harold's expression turned to one of shock.
"Mi-Mirabelle…? Is it really you? H-How can this be? I'm sure I handed you over to a slave trader…?"
Harold looked around in confusion. The moment he realized where he was, his complexion turned pale. So pale it was noticeable even though he was a generally whitish ghost.
"You… you…!"
Harold took a step forward so forcefully one could almost hear the thump of his footsteps.
"What are you doing here?! Go quickly! Why aren't you leaving already?!"
Harold tried to push Mirabelle away, but his hands simply passed through her body without any effect.
After trying several more times and realizing it was futile, Harold looked down at his translucent hands.
"W-What is this…?"
Karami interjected.
"You are dead, Mr. Harold, Your current form is just an illusion created through your soul."
"W-Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"I am Karami, a slave trader. Miss Mirabelle's master."
"Slave trader? Mirabelle's master? I'm… dead?"
Harold was overwhelmed by the sudden flood of information, but only for a moment. There were more pressing matters at hand.
"That's not important right now. You're different from the slave trader in my memory, but anyone is fine as long as you're not one of the clergy. Mr. Karami, would you please take Mirabelle and leave this city?"
"May I ask why?"
"That's…"
"Is it because Miss Mirabelle is a witch?"
"H-How did you know that?!"
Karami just shrugged his shoulders silently.
Harold, who had been standing as if his soul had left his body, prostrated himself before Karami without a second thought.
"P-Please, I beg you. Please don't tell anyone that this child is a witch! I'll do anything…"
Harold was about to say he would do anything, but he was already dead. All he could offer to the living was to send his regards and tell them to come as late as possible.
Slave traders were beings who only cared about money.
He had nothing to offer.
What came crashing down was endless despair.
The square fell silent. But that silence was filled with an indescribable pressure. A heavy atmosphere as if Death itself might appear at any moment.
A frivolous laugh shattered that atmosphere without a care.
"Haha, you don't need to worry about that. I take exceptionally good care of my slaves. Especially outstanding ones like Miss Mirabelle."
"…"
"But you know what's strange? I heard that you sold her to a slave trader, but right now you look no different from any other father worried about his daughter. Isn't that right, Miss Mirabelle?"
Mirabelle flinched. The dissonance she'd vaguely sensed was now impossible to ignore, pricking at her heart.
Overwhelmed by a storm of conflicting emotions, she gripped her staff tightly. It had always helped her calm down a little, but now, even that comfort had little effect.
"I had no choice… There was no other option!"
Harold, shouting in an anguished voice, poured out the misery of that day while prostrated on the ground.
"I had to send her as far away as possible. To a place where rumors of a witch appearing wouldn't reach. But the Knight Order was in pursuit, and someone had to buy time…"
"And you took on that role, Mr. Harold."
"…That's right. I had to ensure Mirabelle's survival, even at the cost of my own life. But I couldn't just send Mirabelle off alone. There are too many demonic beasts outside the city; she would never survive. I had to find someone who could protect and care for her. But no matter how hard I searched, I couldn't find anyone suitable."
"So you chose a slave trader?"
Harold nodded heavily.
"A cute, beautiful girl like Mirabelle has value as merchandise, so they won't mistreat her carelessly. I was confident that at least her life would be guaranteed."
Harold's judgment was undoubtedly correct.
Mirabelle, with witch's blood flowing through her veins, exuded a mysteriousness that couldn't be hidden by mere status. This harmonized perfectly with the beauty of a charming young girl, creating an allure that captivated all who gazed upon her.
Thanks to that, Mirabelle survived.
She was taken from Fracture to Kalia, the capital of the Traul Kingdom, a journey of several weeks by carriage.
Then she was put up for auction at the kingdom's largest slave auction, and her appearance was as neat as a child from a noble family.
All the intended objectives had been achieved.
By the time she arrived there, the young girl's heart had already been torn to shreds.
Karami's lips curled into a sneer.
"Handing your daughter over to slave traders to protect her? That's contradiction at its finest. It's laughable even to me, a slave trader myself."
At those words, Harold lifted his head.
"You don't understand a parent's heart! Do you know how it feels for a parent to hand their child over to a slave trader? Do you understand a parent's feelings when they just want their child to live, even knowing they're sending them to hell?!"
Harold poured out his anguish.
Karami's reaction, however, was indifferent.
"What a needlessly touching story. This takes all the fun out of revenge. Don't you think so, Miss Mirabelle?"
Mirabelle didn't answer.
She couldn't answer.
She merely stood there, frozen like a statue.
This couldn't be right.
Something must be wrong.
Dad sacrificed himself for her?
She had to know the truth.
She couldn't believe it unless she saw it with her own eyes.
Mirabelle once again cast a spell in the square, invoking magic to read the memories of souls.
Harold's memories played out like a video.
What she saw was the scene from that day.
Harold coldly handing her over to the slave trader and Mirabelle reaching out her hand while crying. But her small hand just flailed, never reaching him.
The scenes continued.
The untold story she hadn't known.
Harold captured by the knights.
Thrown into a dark dungeon.
His fingernails pulled out.
His fingers broken.
Branded with hot irons.
Thrown into a pit full of snakes.
After enduring every torture imaginable, he was sentenced to hanging, while still barely conscious──
Snap.
Karami covered Mirabelle's eyes with his hand.
"That's enough. This isn't good for your mental health."
It was a deep, serious tone that Mirabelle seemed to be hearing for the first time since they'd been together. She let her arm holding the staff drop limply, and soon after, the vision faded away.
Warm tears pooled in Karami's palm, still shielding her eyes.
In that fleeting moment, Mirabelle had seen it all─
Harold, with the same smile she had known all her life as she was taken away.
Harold, never once opening his mouth even during the brutal torture.
At last, Mirabelle understood.
The hidden story.