Chapter 11: Just roast him

“Well then, Miss Pereti, have you made up your mind?”

Irene looked at Pereti with a bright, confident smile.

In her view, a commoner like Pereti would have almost zero resistance to gold coins.

With no better choice available, she believed Pereti could never refuse.

“Your offer is indeed very tempting…”

“Mhm mhm~ then—”

“But I refuse.”

“Mm…? Miss Pereti, what did you just say?”

For a moment, Irene suspected she’d misheard.

Pereti actually turned down her invitation…
How was that possible?

Aren’t commoners supposed to treat money like their lifeblood?
Why would Pereti refuse when she’d already offered such an incredible opportunity?

Why??

From childhood to now, Irene—accustomed to commoners obeying her every word—was being rejected for the first time.

“I said, I don’t want to join the Tuning Division.”

What a joke.
What witch would join an organization dedicated to hunting witches?

Only a witch with nerves thicker than armor would agree to something that absurd.

Up until now, Pereti still didn’t think she had exposed any sign of being a witch, but that didn’t rule out the possibility that the Tuning Division had some special spell to detect witches.

Outwardly, witches looked no different from ordinary human women, but based on historical records, the witch-hunting squads almost never failed.

There were only two possible explanations for that.
Either there really existed magic that could detect witches…
Or the truth had been deliberately covered up by the Church.

In reality, perhaps they had killed countless people—whenever they suspected someone, they simply killed them all.
Better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one witch slip away.
Then after polishing the history, Pereti saw the “clean” version in her books.

But she hadn’t lived through that era herself.
All she could do was guess—and guess in the worst direction possible.

As later proven, what was written in the history books and the truth had massive discrepancies.
The most classic example was that according to the public version, once an ordinary human became a witch, they gained world-ending destructive power.

After experiencing it herself, Pereti could only say: she was stronger than a turkey.
But not by much.

If witches were really that powerful, she wouldn’t be here anxiously maneuvering around Irene, terrified of dying on the spot.

And who the hell wrote those Church histories?
If even such crucial information about witches was fake, then the rest of the “content” could hardly be considered reliable.
Some parts weren’t even worth referencing.

Whoever wrote that trash could bring home all the gods they wanted—nothing could save them.

Irene tried her best to keep her expression composed, sliding the employment form out of view to one side of the chair.

“This is certainly an unexpected answer.
May I know what reason Miss Pereti has for refusing me?”

Although Irene’s tone was phrased like a question, to Pereti it sounded more like a statement.

Does this count as offending a noble lady?

Probably yes.
And while Pereti didn’t fully understand why refusing a request was considered disrespectful, she knew very well that if a noble wanted to crush a commoner like her, it would take almost no effort.

In short—‘Just survive.’

Come to think of it, she might be the most miserable witch in existence.

Pereti truly couldn’t imagine a more pitiful situation than hers.

“It’s like this.
I’ve looked into the work of the Tuning Division.
It requires irregular travel to perform missions across the Empire.
By comparison, I want a stable place to settle down and grow, so I’m sorry—I can’t accept your offer.”

As she spoke, Pereti had already stood up and walked toward the door.
She had no intention of lingering even a second longer.

“I see…”

Irene nodded with understanding, but her hand behind her back quietly gathered a faint blue glow.

The beastman attack incident was still unclear.
And since Miss Pereti was the primary target of the attack, she was a very important witness.
She had to be properly protected…

Just as Pereti placed her hand on the doorknob, Irene raised her glowing hand—

The door opened, and a flash of red burst into their view.

“Uwaah! Pe–Pereti miss? Were you about to head out?”
Anna nearly collided with Pereti as she pushed the door open.

“Sorry.”
Pereti brushed past Anna and left the compartment.

“Wow, that was Miss Pereti? She’s really pretty…”

After Pereti left, Anna stared at the fading white silhouette, slightly dazed.

Irene said nothing, just stared silently at Anna.

For some reason, Anna suddenly felt a chill crawl up her spine, cold enough to make her shudder.

“S-squad leader? Ahaha… we’ve already taken care of the aftermath.
The train can continue moving normally.
The carriage Miss Pereti was in wasn’t badly damaged—just needs some magical repairs.
As for other equipment, there are spares on board.”

“…”

“S-squad leader…?”

Anna called out softly, hoping to awaken Irene’s affection for her subordinates.

“Your activity stipend is gone.”

“Ah??? Why!!!”

Returning to her seat, Pereti finally let out a quiet breath of relief.
The tension in her shoulders loosened.

The carriage remained mostly intact—at least visually, it looked almost the same as before boarding.
The only differences were the slight dent in the roof, and the brand-new, overly flawless pane of glass beside her, reflecting her own faint silhouette.

Nobles… really are trouble.

She sighed silently in her heart.
That natural, born-superior posture was already hard to bear.
Especially someone like Irene—clearly looking down from above, yet her gaze burned with an intensity that felt like it could pierce through Pereti.

Always acting so high and mighty was incredibly annoying.
Especially nobles like Irene, who lusted after commoners while pretending to despise them.

‘You look down on me?
Then stop drooling over my body!’

Calling commoners “dirty” while grinning as they enjoyed the view—what the hell kind of creature was that?

If they were so obsessed with nobility, why were they so unwilling when facing political marriages?

Pereti didn’t even want to look at nobles like that.

She rubbed her temples, deciding not to think about it anymore.

A more immediate issue was that with her appearance, she had just instantly attracted someone like Irene—a woman at that.
When she reached the chaotic city of Farisa, she had no idea how much more unwanted attention she’d draw.

Thinking of the uncertain future made a wave of fatigue and aimlessness wash over her.

“…Are you alright?”

A hesitant voice came from beside her, quiet and tentative.

Pereti’s eyelashes trembled.
She pulled herself out of her spiraling thoughts and turned her head.

The young man next to her—hugging his schoolbag—was no longer sitting stiffly.
He had tilted slightly toward her, eyes filled with lingering fear but also obvious concern.

“Are you… talking to me?” Pereti asked, still holding a trace of tension in her voice.

“Yes.
Um… earlier, thank you for pushing me aside.”
The young man nodded, a bit embarrassed as he pressed his lips together.

So he really thought the attack was aimed at him…
Pereti felt slightly relieved.
This misunderstanding saved her a lot of explaining.

“No need to thank me.
The situation was urgent.
And if I didn’t push you, I probably wouldn’t have dodged it either.”
She softened her tone, trying to sound natural.

The young man scratched his hair and gave a shy smile.

“Even so… I’m really grateful.
That scene was terrifying…
I almost thought—
uh, anyway, thank you so much.”

He paused, then—perhaps to change the subject, or to continue the unexpectedly pleasant conversation—added:

“Are you also heading to Farisa?”

“Yes.”
Pereti nodded lightly, her gaze sweeping past the still-shaken passengers.
“Judging by this carriage, most of us are.”

“Ah, true.
Um… I’m Marco.
I just graduated from Rosenthal Academy in the south.
I’m heading to Farisa because I heard there are many opportunities there.
I’m hoping to find a good job.”

He spoke a little fast, sounding very much like an earnest student.
“My family isn’t well-off. It wasn’t easy for them to support me through school. I’m the first graduate in the family, so… I don’t want to let them down.”

Maybe it was the disaster they had just gone through together.
Or maybe it was Marco’s simple, slightly clumsy sincerity.

But for the first time in a long while, Pereti’s tightly stretched nerves loosened.

She looked out the window at the rapidly passing, gradually calming scenery, and softly said:

“Mm.
I hope things go well for you.”

Even though the road ahead remained shrouded in fog, at least in this moment— speaking with a normal person, someone without yandere possessiveness, someone without that noble cold-hot gaze, someone simply… human—

It gave her a faint sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A fleeting peace, as fragile as the drifting clouds outside the train window.