Chapter 3
“You’re different from my sister—you’ve got fire in you, and you actually seem to want to live. My sister always wished for death. She even begged me to cut her head off in one clean strike.”
While Cession rambled on, Gremory’s gaze shifted to the space behind him. Strangely, the moment he started talking about his sister, the vengeful spirits drifting through the mansion began gathering around him.
“I should’ve just done it. Then she wouldn’t have died painfully at the stake.”
“……”
“They say souls burned at the stake can’t ascend to heaven—they’re forced to wander this world. That thought haunts me. What if Iris is still here, resenting me?”
She is. Gremory barely stopped herself from saying it aloud.
The spirits clustered behind Cession all took the form of dark-haired women. Among them was one who resembled him—likely Iris. She trembled, lips quivering as if she had something to say, but hesitated, distrustful of the witch.
But something puzzled Gremory. Even if Iris’s spirit lingered here, who were the other women crowding around him?
The answer came quickly.
“If Iris is wandering this world, I hope she’s in this mansion. She’d be lonely alone, so I’d want the other victims with her. All those unjustly killed women deserve a safe place to rest, even in death.”
So, the ghosts of every woman executed in the witch hunts had gathered here—allowed by Cession, brought by Iris.
Which meant: off-limits. Cession wanted them to find peace here.
‘Damn it.’
Her stomach growled. Gremory burrowed deeper under the blankets. Oblivious, Cession picked up the potato soup Anna had left and held it out.
“Sorry, am I boring you? I’ve been talking too much about myself. Here, eat something. Did you lose the will to live and choose to starve? I saved you. You’ve got a new life now—show some spirit. Hmm. Is ‘hey’ too informal? Then, by tradition, I’ll give you a new name.”
“!”
“What’s a good one? Lillian? Too common. Carmilla? Also overused.”
A shiver ran down Gremory’s spine. She threw off the blankets and sat up. A witch accepting a human-given name was tantamount to renouncing her power. Of course, it meant nothing if she refused—but the mere idea was grotesque, like letting someone scrawl over her true name in red ink.
“Ah, you’re up. Will you eat now?”
Gremory swatted the soup bowl from his hands. It clattered to the floor, splattering the carpet.
Cession ignored the mess, still musing.
“Not eating, then. So your name will be—”
“……!!!”
Gremory made a split-second decision: Reveal herself, wreak havoc, and flee.
Here, she couldn’t eat the ghosts or torment humans for sustenance. The mansion’s dark energy kept her alive, but it was like filling her stomach with water. Starving while enduring a name change was worse than finding a new hideout. She couldn’t take another day of forced meals and confessions.
She bit her fingertip with sharp teeth. A drop of blood welled up, and she scrawled her name on the bedsheet:
「Gremory」
No human could mistake that name—the witch behind the plague that killed millions in the southern continent eight years ago.
Gremory grinned wide, baring her jagged teeth and half-severed tongue.
That’s right, human. Realize who you’ve brought home? Judging by your face, you’ve guessed your fate. You’ve pissed me off—now you’re doomed—
“My God. Did those villagers give you that horrific name?”
“……”
“Hell, you don’t need it anymore! I’ll give you a new one. Alexandra? Yuris? Or Selena? Which do you like?”
“!”
Fuming, Gremory jabbed at her name. Cession sighed, rubbing his temples.
“There are writing tools besides blood. Next time, ask for paper and pen. But—you can write? So you understand language, even if you can’t speak.”
“!”
“And that radiant smile you gave me—I’m touched. Thank you for opening up.”
Cession was infuriatingly kind. Gremory was losing her mind.
“Let’s go with ‘Yuris.’ It means ‘woman of beautiful laughter’—ow.”
She slapped his hand. Then pointed at her name again.
“You prefer this one? No, it’s too ominous. A name is important.”
“!”
“Fine. If you insist, I’ll call you ‘Mori.’”
“!!”
“Mori. That works, right?”
Smiling, Cession stood.
“I’ll send a nun. Get that finger treated.”
With a final grin, he left.
For a moment, Gremory sat frozen. Then—
“!!!!!!”
She writhed, screaming silently into the void.
Later
Once sanity returned, Gremory accepted her fate.
This ordeal was the price for the human body Cession had unwittingly given her. She abandoned her escape plan—as a fugitive from the demon realm, hiding here long-term was her goal. And nowhere was safer than a grand duke’s estate.
Resigned, she took a spoonful of the damned potato soup. A necessary torment.
“Gag…”
“Good job, our Lady Mori! One more spoon!”
Anna cheered each bite like a bizarre cheerleader. The “meal” ended at five spoonfuls. Anna celebrated as if it were a festival, even dancing around.
Later, she perched beside Gremory, chattering away. Anna adored “Mori”—the first lady who listened without dismissing her. So she shared secrets:
“Lady, rumor says this mansion is cursed. That the Grand Duke’s sister was a real witch, and her death left a stain.”
“The Crown Prince threw another tantrum today. He’s jealous of our Grand Duke’s competence.”
“His Grace is beloved. He banned witch hunts, saving countless innocents. Nobles don’t fear false accusations now, and commoners sleep soundly. His popularity is unmatched.”
Through it all, Gremory had one thought:
‘I’m starving.’
The soup was useless. The mansion’s dark energy barely staved off hunger. Desperate, she pointed at the pen and notebook Cession had left.
“Oh! Lady Mori’s first words to me!”
Thrilled, Anna handed them over. Gremory wrote bluntly:
「Raw meat.」
Anna’s smile faltered—then she teared up, nodding.
“Oh, Lady… You survived by eating rats, didn’t you? You must’ve been so hungry.”
“……”
“I’ll prepare it cleanly! But even then, too much is risky, so just a little—”
“!”
Gremory scribbled again:
「Unprocessed. Blood dripping.」
“Of course! Blood for thirst—I understand. Northern tundra dwellers drink fresh blood for salt. Wait here!”
Anna returned with a bowl of cow’s blood and a raw chicken.
As Gremory happily gnawed on the chicken, Cession walked in.
He froze, watching her gulp down the bloody mess. She glared back: What’re you staring at?
After a beat, Cession beamed.
“Eating raw meat—you must be from the northern tundra. No wonder your skin’s so pale and your features so fine.”
