“What was that awful noise just now, my…dy?” Adrianne slowed down her footsteps as she entered the chaotic foyer. “W-what is happening here?!”

  Estel stiffened, shooting a gnce at the Witch who was busy restraining the semi-conscious butler with a little too much vigour.

  “Er, I almost got killed…”

  The dy-in-waiting suppressed a gasp. “By the strange dy over there?”

  “I’d be lying dead on the floor by now if that’s the case,” she pointed out.

  “Then…Gerald?” she asked in a tentative voice, widening her eyes at the tied-up butler. “But why would you do such a thing? I-It doesn’t make sense!”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense,” the Witch answered with a rueful ugh. “Even back then, there were some readers who compined about the butler’s motive being too contrived…but eh, who cares—they weren’t the ones sitting down in front of a ptop and typing five hours a day.”

  Adrianne exchanged a look of bewilderment with Estel. “My dy, ought we to be concerned about her?”

  “She’s a guest of mine,” Estel confirmed, though her dy-in-waiting didn’t seem all too convinced. “I’ll bring her to my chamber to rest first, please clean up the mess here and prepare the guest room in the meantime.”

  “Understood, my dy.” She hesitated. “Then, what should we do about Gerald? He doesn’t look to be in, erm, fine fettle at the moment.”

  “About that…” Estel directed a quizzical look at the Witch.

  “…what? Why are you even asking me?” she rejoined. “You’re the main character here, you know.”

  “But, if I may add, this whole operation was your idea.”

  Rolling her eyes, the Witch heaved a sigh and gestured at the butler. “Are you not going to kill him?”

  Adrianne’s jaw dropped. “K-k-kill?!”

  “I…hmm, well…” Estel trailed off, deep in thought.

  “W-wait, my dy, you can’t be seriously considering the heathen’s suggestion!” her dy-in-waiting cried out. “Murder is wrong, regardless of the cause or circumstances!”

  “Can you please shut up for now? You are not supposed to appear in this scene in the first pce,” the Witch chided.

  “You heathen, you should count your blessings that Lady Estel even allowed you to remain in her presence!” she retorted. “What role do you exactly py here, if I may ask?”

  “…”

  “Adrianne, please refrain from rebuking our guest to such an extent,” Estel hastily interjected, trying to defuse the situation. “Though her manner of speech may seem weird, I can assure you that she means no harm.”

  “…”

  Both parties fell silent, though the heavy tension in the atmosphere was still all too palpable. Breathing a long sigh, she mustered her remaining energy and walked to Gerald, forcing the dazed man to his feet.

  “You can still walk, can’t you?”

  He blinked slowly, a certain thousand-yard stare in his swollen eyes.

  “I…y-yes…”

  Estel pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’ll spend the night in the celr. Tomorrow morning, you are to pack all of your belongings and never step foot into the dukedom ever again. Is that clear?”

  Gerald nodded his head sullenly, not speaking another word even as he was led to the basement and locked inside the wine celr.

  “Do you think he’ll be alright in there?” Estel murmured, closing the door to the basement behind her.

  “Probably?” The Witch shrugged. “I think I’m fine with whatever happens to that guy, to be honest. He’s a very minor character in terms of the overall…”

  Her voice trailed off when Estel met her gaze with a resolute stare.

  “Uh, why are you suddenly looking at me like that?” she asked in a self-conscious tone. “I-is there something on my face?”

  “No, not that. It’s just…”

  She made a grimace before continuing, “the way you sometimes talk about others is freakish.”

  The Witch raised an eyebrow. “Freakish?”

  “I’m not quite sure how to describe it,” Estel muttered. “But you seem to think that you know everything about the people that you call ‘characters’, including myself. Don’t you think that that’s a little bit, I don’t know, abnormal?”

  “I—”

  “You know, whenever I talk with you, I get the strange feeling that you’re treating me not as a real person.”

  Stopping in front of her bedchamber door, she rested her hand on the warm brass doorknob.

  “But a thing,” she whispered. “Someone fictional, as if I’m just a mere actor in that enigmatic ‘story’ of yours.”

  Estel paused, waiting for the Witch to say something—yet no words emerged from her quivering lips.

  “I guess you’re not going to admit that, are you?”

  Managing a wry smile, she took the key out to unlock her door. “Sorry, I’m also at fault for overstepping my boundaries with such a question. You can rest here while…?”

  Entering her bedchamber, the Witch immediately made for the nightstand where the poisoned tea set was neatly arranged.

  “W-wait, what are you doing?!”

  Estel paled, watching in horror as the Witch grabbed the teapot and poured its contents into her mouth without hesitation.

  “Just as I’d expected, it’s a poison inspired by ethylene glycol,” she finally spoke with a chilling calmness, licking her lips as she set the empty teapot back on the nightstand. “Sweet, but becomes toxic when broken down by the liver after ingestion. You wouldn’t even have noticed that you were drinking poison if I hadn’t warned you beforehand.”

  She swallowed the bile rising up her throat. “Y…yes, that I’m aware of, but why would you drink it yourself…”

  Shaking her head, the Witch colpsed on her bed and chuckled softly to herself.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t die from that,” she said. “I can’t die.”

  “You’re…immortal?”

  “Unfortunately so.”

  The Witch turned her head to look at her, her gaze piercing through her soul for a silent moment, before finally parting her lips to speak.

  “You’re right,” she began. “I hate to say it, but I can’t treat you as a real person. I try my best not to treat anyone here as real, in fact…but it’s not because I hate you or anything. The reason, really, is my own fear.”

  “Fear?” She slowly walked towards the Witch, her heart throbbing with conflicting emotions. “What are you—what can possibly make you afraid?”

  “…”

  She averted her gaze as Estel sat down on the bed beside her.

  “You see…after being stuck here for such a long time, I had to sell and trade away many things in order to survive,” she admitted, a hint of bitterness etched on her face. “The smartphone inside my pocket, and my old flip phone that I gave to you—these two are the only belongings that I have left. The only things that bear a connection to a pce I may never see again.”

  A wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  “So I’m afraid, Estel. Afraid that once I accept this world to be reality, I will lose the way home.”

  Pursing her lips in a thoughtful pose, Estel tilted her head towards the Witch.

  “If you are that afraid, why did you agree to help me?” she asked in a soft yet curious voice. “You could have easily ignored my request that night, but you didn’t.”

  “…as I said, I was already expecting your arrival,” she mumbled. “It’s only natural to help someone who is in need of help when they show up at your doorstep.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” Estel pressed, leaning in closer. “Pray tell the truth, dear Witch?”

  “The truth is…because I…”

  Faltering, the Witch bit her lip.

  “I like you, Estel.”