Hate me, Miss Witch!

The wind scattered petals of blood.

They dyed this tranquil night red.

Silvia struggled to turn, suppressing intense pain as she widened her eyes to look at Shiayar behind her.

"Why?"

She gazed directly at the black-haired youth before her, her dry lips moving slightly, forming a silent whisper.

The softly spoken words transformed into an ancient magic word, and dark shadows gushed forth.

Her beautiful, dark purple eyes were filled with incomprehension, doubt, shock, and bewilderment.

More than half a year ago, Silvia had contemplated ending her Life on a cold winter's night.

It was the black-haired, dark-eyed youth who had saved her from the bone-chilling waters of the Grant Sea.

He was the one who told her that a person's sinfulness did not stem from their birth; where they ultimately went depended solely on Silvia's own choices.

He was the one who, amidst boundless malice and Darkness, gave her the courage to keep living.

He was also the one who had made a promise with her: once she could completely In Control the monster deep within her, he would take her to the end of the sea to see the myriad waters and mountains beyond the Royal Capital, and the sparkling galaxy.

...

All those memories surged through her mind in an instant. This past half-year had been the most beautiful time Silvia had known since her mother passed away. On countless starless, pitch-black nights, these memories allowed Silvia to face the pain and temptation of the Bronze Crucifix, anchoring her true self and keeping it from wavering. She had thought such happiness would last forever. She had believed she could grow old with Brother Shiayar, just like that. She imagined that one day, when they were both too old and frail to walk, they would sit leisurely on lounge chairs outside a small mountain cottage, basking in the sun, reminiscing about their first meeting, and sharing a smile. A simple life, yet one whose beauty would endure and feel ever new.

But at this moment, those scenes—beautiful, sweet, timeless—were shattering like fragile illusions.

Behind the thousands of shattering fragments stood the black-haired youth, slowly withdrawing the bloodied blade from her back.

This familiar figure, once a source of immense comfort to Silvia, now seemed so cold and strange.

Weakness from massive blood loss blurred her consciousness. She staggered and fell to her knees.

But Silvia still fixed her gaze on Shiayar's eyes, waiting for his answer.

She hoped Shiayar would give her a reason, even if it was fabricated, too flimsy to hold up to scrutiny—

Perhaps Shiayar was being coerced, someone holding something over him, or perhaps he had some hidden, compelling reason that left him no choice.

Or perhaps, just moments ago, Shiayar's mind had been controlled by an Illusion Technique, manipulated into plunging the blade into her back.

But, as if he had seen through Silvia's desperate hopes, Shiayar let out a light sigh, his black eyes still cold and indifferent.

"So, Silvia," he began, "you're truly foolish and naive. So innocent it makes me want to laugh."

"The ironclad truth is laid bare before you, yet you still want an explanation from me."

"Very well—"

Shiayar paused, the guilt inside him steadily mounting.

Women are such creatures. Once they give their hearts, that thing called love ruthlessly washes away their rationality. Silvia had no experience interacting with outsiders from a young age; her romantic experience and emotional intelligence were practically zero. So, when she fell for him, she gave almost everything, trusting him blindly. She would believe any nonsense he told her. Even though he had just stabbed her in the back—a chilling blow—he was certain if he just spouted a few flimsy excuses, Silvia would undoubtedly choose to forgive him, even concocting her own justifications to fill any logical gaps.

Just as she was now, Silvia neither resisted nor struggled, and there was not a hint of anger from betrayal in her expression.

She simply looked at Shiayar with confusion and bewilderment, her dark purple eyes even revealing a faint plea.

She was like a kitten abandoned in the wild by its owner, desperately chasing the departing car, hoping its owner would have a change of heart, stop, and pick it up to hold once more.

But Shiayar hardened his heart.

Now, he would only do what he had to do. For Silvia's sake, and for his own. Therefore, he wouldn't let emotions like guilt weigh him down now.

"Since you're so stubbornly blind, then I'll give you an explanation."

Shiayar looked down at the girl kneeling in a sea of blood-red flowers and spoke, word by word.

"Silvia, in this world, there's no such thing as love without reason, nor hatred without cause."

"My parents died because of you, an unchangeable, ironclad fact. There might be saints who repay evil with good in this world, but I am not one."

"When you jumped into the sea, I chose to save you only because of Lord Norton's orders."

"A living you is more valuable to us than a dead you."

"That's all."

"Then... what about all those things you told me? The promise to take me across the Grant Sea..." Silvia's soft murmur hadn't finished when Shiayar interrupted her ruthlessly.

"Yes. Those were all just lines to placate you for the sake of the mission."

"Silvia, you're even more foolish than I imagined. A few cliché sweet nothings were enough to make you lose your head and let me control you completely."

"I really should thank you for saving me a lot of trouble."

...

His indifferent words were like sharp knives, slicing into Silvia's heart.

The blades had no physical form but were far more hurtful than the pain that had pierced her chest just now.

So, it was all a lie. Those words by the fire on that winter night, the ones that gave me the will to live... the promise to show me the myriad waters and mountains... all of it.

Since birth, Silvia had always lived in The Tower, a place without light.

Once, someone had opened a window for her in the wall of The Tower.

Sunlight streamed through the window to the base of The Tower, and for the first time, Silvia, who had grown accustomed to the Darkness, yearned for the light.

But now, that window was closed.

Heavy steel chains once again sealed The lightless Tower, far heavier and colder than before.

The last thread of hope that had sustained Silvia finally snapped.

She could no longer hold herself upright and collapsed into the sea of fragrant telosma that carpeted the mountainside.

Her consciousness gradually faded, dissolving into a boundless, profound darkness, lost and without destination.