As soon as Sir Pablo said those words, he seemed afraid his meaning might be misunderstood, so he quickly explained:
"Of course, Count Hel, I do not mean to question your identity. It's just that Duchess Mandrake accused you of using witch's blood against her, and from what we've seen so far… since arriving at Heim, the only person who's physically come into contact with her—has been you."
Though Pablo's words were directed at Hel, his eyes drifted toward Sister Pamela behind her, as if seeking confirmation.
Before Pamela could speak, Hel's calm voice cut in:
"A reasonable suspicion… but tell me—why should I prove anything?"
"…What?" Pablo blinked, taken aback.
"Perhaps you didn't understand," Hel said evenly. "Allow me to explain in detail. First, it was Brenda who falsely claimed that a witch had appeared in my territory. When no witch was found, she accused me of letting one escape. Now she has been revealed to bear the mark of witch's blood, and still she insists I'm the culprit who used it on her. So tell me—if I 'prove' myself innocent now, what's next? Will there simply be another excuse to frame me again?"
"Count Hel," Pablo replied patiently, though his tone carried authority, "our duty is to root out any trace of witchcraft. For the safety of Heim, and for the security of all mankind, we must pursue every possible lead. So please, cooperate with the test."
His words were polite, but his meaning was not a request—it was a warning. The way his hand tightened on the sword at his side made it clear that if Hel refused, he was ready to act by force.
Hel held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling softly. "Very well. I'll take the test. But if it proves this was yet another false accusation—what then?"
Pablo didn't hesitate. "Then I'll personally escort Duchess Mandrake away and have her imprisoned for one year, as agreed, to determine whether she truly bears witch's blood."
Hel's eyes hardened. "Remember what you just said."
Her voice was low, but each word struck like iron. She then extended her little finger and gently touched it to the cross.
[Term Acquired: Divine Radiance (Red).]
At once, she pulled Brenda's hand free from the cross and flung her backward. The violet light that had filled the square instantly vanished.
"Now then, Sir Pablo," Hel said, her tone cool and sharp,"watch closely."
She slammed her palm hard against the cross—and this time, there was nothing. No light. No glow. No reaction at all.
"N–No… that's impossible! It's not right! You—you must have tampered with the relic!"
Brenda's composure finally collapsed. She couldn't understand how the cross remained still beneath Hel's touch, but she did understand that her political life was finished.
To be branded a witch, imprisoned for a year by the Church—by the time she returned, her duchy would be gone.
Her younger brother, long thought to have fled, or this damned Count before her—either could seize the title in her absence. Even if she were eventually cleared, without her title she would lose all value to her powerful cousin, the Princess.
She didn't dare imagine what fate awaited her then.
But suddenly—an idea struck her. She darted backward, trying to move behind Sir Pablo. She feared that Hel might kill her now to "seal the evidence," cementing her guilt as a witch.
But Hel was faster. With a swift step, she was already in front of Brenda, her hand flashing out to grab the duchess's wrist.
Sir Pablo instinctively raised his sword to intervene—but when he saw that Hel only seized Brenda's hand, not her throat or heart, he hesitated.
As long as Brenda's alive, he thought, I can still turn this around.
Even if a year passed, even if the angels gained more power within the Church, he could still use the case to weaken Hel—or at least force the angels to pay a price for protecting him.
But if he attacked Hel now, with no justification, he risked earning the angel's resentment. And that could destroy his own career.
So he stayed his hand.
Hel, meanwhile, had no intention of killing Brenda. She merely pressed Brenda's palm once more against the cross.
In an instant, a blinding violet light filled the square again.
"You said I tampered with the relic?" Hel asked coldly." Then tell me—what exactly did I tamper with?"
Her eyes were like ice as she stared down at Brenda. She knew this farce wasn't over. As long as Brenda still breathed, there would be no clear verdict.
But out of the corner of her eye, Hel caught Pablo's watchful stance—his sword point hovering near Brenda's chest, as though protecting her, yet always angled to strike at Hel if she made the slightest move.
Hel's lips curved faintly.
If I can't act directly… then perhaps I can act indirectly.
She opened her Lexicon of Traits.
[Trait Bestowed: Grudge of the Living (Black)]
[Trait Bestowed: Delirium (Black)]
After a brief pause, she added a third:
[Trait Bestowed: Whisper of Corruption (Black)]
At once, Brenda's body went rigid—her expression clouding with confusion. Whispers, low and poisonous, began to coil around her ears.
"Kill her… kill her now… all your misery began with that filthy half-breed…" "Do it. No one will blame you for getting rid of a worthless creature like her…"
Brenda's eyes glazed over, then filled with hatred and envy—raw, burning, uncontained.
"Damn you," she muttered under her breath, voice trembling. "Why won't you just die?"
Her whisper grew louder. Over and over, the same words—each time sharper, more frantic—until finally she was screaming, her voice breaking with madness:
"YOU DAMNED HALF-BREED—WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE!"
She lunged, shrieking, swinging the dagger clutched in her trembling hand.
Sir Pablo, who had been focused entirely on Hel, froze in horror.
He'd been guarding against Hel's possible attack—never imagining that Brenda would be the one to snap and strike first.