Chapter 21

Mirabel stood numbly before the situation unfolding before her.

Her lips were parched.

Her mind was blank.

Her heart thumped painfully.

She could not take her eyes off the skull.

That person… is that person?

Is that skull… Dad?

A great criminal, you say?

He tried to hide a witch?

No way.

There must be some misunderstanding.

Mirabel vividly remembered that day as if it were yesterday. A few months ago, it was he who had coldly expelled her from this place. She could not believe that such a man had died as a criminal.

She had no doubt he would survive by selling her off and living alone.

Mirabel felt dizzy.

This situation was nothing but confusing.

At that moment, Carami, who had been watching from the side, stroked her chin and conveyed her thoughts in a serious tone.

“Hm, to summarize my thoughts, his tail was stepped on. The Knight Order noticed Miss Mirabel’s existence.”

Witches are matrilineal.

Upon learning that a couple had a daughter, the Knight Order and clerics chased them to the city.

“The man sold Miss Mirabel to a slave trader, fearing that he too could die by being with a witch. It was also a way to make some money.”

Though he had abandoned the witch, they had already acted together. Thus, the Knight Order came looking for him.

“The Knight Order came to find him and said they would spare his life if he handed over Miss Mirabel, but he couldn’t. Even if he wanted to hand her over, he couldn’t. Because at that point, Miss Mirabel had been sold as a slave and had already left the city.”

Carami’s voice flowed into Mirabel’s ears like water.

“However, the Knight Order thought he was intentionally hiding her because she was his daughter. Who would think that 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 fell victim to his own schemes. How ridiculous is that?”

Yes, that’s it. Carami’s analysis was one hundred percent correct. The man abandoned himself only to end up dead.

“Haha…”

A smile graced Mirabel’s lips.

But it was an awkward smile.

It felt as though her mouth was twitching instead of smiling.

The man who sold her had been executed, and she had become a spectacle. It was a gratifying story. She could feel liberated with a sense of relief.

But for some reason, her insides didn’t feel clear.

Was it because the target of her revenge had disappeared, leaving a void? Just as Colton had warned her one day?

It was subtly different from that.

Her chest felt tight.

Why was this happening?

It seemed she was missing something important.

‘What was Dad’s last look like?’

A pale complexion like someone being chased by a ghost.

Handing her over to the slave trader with rough hands.

That look in his eyes…

“…”

She couldn’t remember it well.

“I went through so much hardship just to take revenge, and now he is comfortably dead alone. What a man who is still selfish to the end. But it’s okay. We know magic, don’t we?”

Magic that interferes with souls.

With that, she could have her unfinished revenge.

If she finished her revenge with her own hands, this constricted knot in her chest would surely be untied.

“First, let’s do it for the girl beside me. She died unjustly, so wouldn’t it be good to fulfill her resentment?”

Nodding her head slowly, which felt as heavy as a stone, Mirabel moved her staff towards the skull. She harnessed her magical power and cast her spell.

However, no changes occurred.

“Has time worn down the soul? Or perhaps she left this world without any attachment to her life?”

Normally, Mirabel would have been curious about how her master knew these things in such detail, but she wasn’t thinking in that direction right now.

Next was the man’s turn.

What if the man’s soul didn’t appear like the girl’s? That anxiety echoed in her chest repeatedly.

“Miss Mirabel. Let’s hear it directly from him. Why did he abandon himself?”

Mirabel’s staff trembled anxiously as it shifted to the side.

And once more, she cast her magic.

Saaaa…

This time, there was a change.

A white light surged into the dawn square.

The skull sparkled.

White haze flickered and then flowed down to the ground like smoke.

Stacking and stacking the smoke.

The indistinct shape gradually became clearer.

“Ah…”

Mirabel’s sigh mingled with the appearance of a fully formed figure.

A man appeared.

A middle-aged man with a gentle demeanor.

He slowly turned his head to look around, and Mirabel called him in a low voice.

“Dad…?”

The man’s name was Harold.

With the sound, Harold’s gaze reached Mirabel. His eyes were filled with astonishment as he locked eyes with her.

“Mi-Mirabel…? Is that really you? It can’t be. You surely were sold to the slave trader…?”

Harold, flustered, surveyed the surroundings. The moment he realized where he was, his complexion turned pale. Even though he was a ghost shimmering faintly, it was ascertainable.

“You, you…!”

Harold took rough steps as if thinking he heard pounding footsteps.

“What are you doing here?! Hurry up! Why can’t you leave?!”

He tried to push Mirabel away. However, his hand merely passed through her body without any effect.

After several attempts and realizing it was futile, Harold looked down at his translucent hand.

“What is this…?”

Carami interjected.

“You’re dead, Mr. Harold. Your current form is just an illusion created by your soul.”

“Wh-Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I’m Carami, the slave trader. I am Miss Mirabel’s master.”

“Slave trader? Mirabel’s master? I’m… dead?”

Harold struggled to process the sudden influx of information, but it didn’t last long. This was not the time to dwell on something trivial.

“That’s not important. It may be different from the slave trader in my memory, but as long as you’re not a cleric, it doesn’t matter. Carami, would you take Miss Mirabel out of this city?”

“May I ask why?”

“That’s….”

“Is it because Miss Mirabel is a witch?”

“W-How did you know?!”

Carami merely shrugged without a word.

Harold, who stood as if soulless, suddenly knelt before Carami without a second thought.

“P-Please, I beg you. Please don’t tell anyone that this girl is a witch! I’ll do anything….”

He was about to say what he would do, but he was already dead. All he could do for the living was to convey his regards and ask for them to come as late as possible.

A slave trader is someone who only looks out for their own profit.

There was nothing he could offer.

What closed in was endless despair.

The square fell silent. But within that silence was an indescribable pressure, a heavy atmosphere as if a god of death might leap out at any moment.

A frivolous laughter pierced through that silence without care.

“Haha, you needn’t worry about that. I cherish my slaves dearly. Especially excellent slaves like Miss Mirabel.”

“……”

“Isn’t it strange? Mr. Harold, you sold Miss Mirabel to a slave trader, yet your current demeanor is no different from an ordinary father worrying for his daughter. Isn’t that so, Miss Mirabel?”

Mirabel flinched.

She could feel it somewhat.

The unease that pricked at her chest.

In the whirlpool of mixed emotions, she just gripped her staff tightly. It was the only way that slightly calmed her heart. Though it was of little effect at the moment.

“I had no choice… there was no other option!”

Harold shouted desperately, revealing the tragic day while lying flat on the ground.

“I had to send her as far away as possible. To a place where the rumor of the witch would not reach. But when the Knight Order came chasing, someone had to delay them…”

“So you took on that role, Mr. Harold.”

“…Yes. Even if it meant my death, I had to keep Mirabel alive. But I couldn’t just send her away alone. The way outside the city is full of monsters, and she wouldn’t survive at all. I had to protect this child and find someone to take care of her. But no matter how much I searched, there was no suitable person.”

“So you chose a slave trader?”

Harold nodded heavily.

“A cute and pretty girl like Mirabel has market value, so they wouldn’t treat her carelessly. At the very least, I was sure her life would be guaranteed.”

Harold’s judgment was undoubtedly correct.

Mirabel, with the blood of a witch flowing through her, emanated a mystique that could not be concealed by status. It harmonized beautifully with her charm, stealing attention.

Thanks to that, Mirabel survived.

She traveled for several weeks by carriage to reach the capital, Kalia, of the Traur Kingdom, which could take that long to arrive.

She was presented at the largest slave auction in the kingdom, and her appearance was as neat as that of a noble’s child.

She had achieved her purpose entirely.

By the time she got there, however, the girl’s heart was already torn apart.

Carami smirked.

“To hand over your daughter to a slave trader for protection. Such a contradiction, isn’t it? Even I, as a slave trader, find it absurd.”

With those words, Harold lifted his head.

“You don’t understand a parent’s heart! Do you understand the heart of a parent who has to hand over their child to a slave trader? Knowing full well that it would be a hellish place, but still wishing they would just live on!”

Harold vented his indignation.

Yet Carami’s reaction was apathetic.

“What a uselessly touching story. At this rate, I won’t find the taste of revenge. Isn’t that so, Miss Mirabel?”

Mirabel did not answer.

She could not answer.

She simply stood frozen like a statue.

This couldn’t be.

Something was wrong.

Did her dad sacrifice himself for her?

She needed to confirm that.

She couldn’t believe it unless she saw it with her own eyes.

Once again, Mirabel cast her magic in the square. The magic to read the memories of souls.

Harold’s memories played back like a film.

What appeared were the scenes of that day.

Harold coldly handing her over to the slave trader and Mirabel reaching out with tears, but her small hand flailed, never reaching.

The following images.

The backstory she hadn’t realized.

Harold, captured by knights.

Thrust into a dark dungeon.

Nails pulled out.

Fingers broken.

Cauterized with hot irons.

Thrown into a pit filled with snakes.

After enduring all forms of torture, he was hanged while his consciousness was still faintly present—

Thud.

Carami covered Mirabel’s eyes with his hand.

“Let’s stop there. It’s not good for the emotions.”

For the first time hearing such a serious tone while spending time together, Mirabel let her arm holding the staff drop, and shortly after, the vision disappeared.

In Carami’s hand pooled a hot liquid.

Mirabel witnessed it.

Her father, smiling as he watched her leave, a smile she had seen every day.

Harold, who had never once spoken during his harsh torture.

Mirabel realized it.

The story that had been hidden.

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