Chapter 65: The Price of Sins

Camilla slowly lifted her face, finally recovering from the mental shock of terror. Yet, fear and disbelief still lingered in her eyes.

“You, why are you alive? Why would you… Alice, is that you?”

Alice looked down at her, speaking calmly. “To survive that desperate situation, and to exact my revenge on you, I became a witch.”

“A witch?” Camilla still hadn’t fully processed the words, remaining utterly ignorant of Levi’s past experiences.

“Don’t worry,” Alice said slowly, picking up a handheld mirror from a nearby small table. “You’re about to become a witch yourself.”

“I’ll perform a divination for you, so you can see your own ending in advance.”

For an ordinary person to become a ninth-tier “Witch” through the conventional “Witch” pathway, they needed to drink a ninth-tier potion brewed by another witch.

Additionally, they had to personally witness a divination about their own future.

The potion Alice had given Camilla in the carriage was, in fact, the ninth-tier witch potion she had personally brewed.

The maid driving their carriage was actually Duchess Liddell, who had altered her appearance and impression using the illusionary abilities of a “Succubus.” The entire process had been under her guidance and supervision.

Using her “Dreamweaver” abilities, Alice had lulled Camilla to sleep and woven that nightmare for her, drawing from Camilla’s own memories.

During those hours of slumber, Camilla had fully absorbed the potion.

Now, only one ritual remained.

Camilla stared intently at the mirror, gazing at her own reflection with a puzzled expression.

Then, under Alice’s divination, Camilla watched as her image in the mirror gradually transformed.

The woman in the mirror was disheveled and unkempt, her hair a wild mess, her eyes vacant and dull. It was clear at a glance that her mental state was entirely abnormal.

Camilla stared at the mirror, her face etched with disbelief.

‘Is this… me?’

‘How could this be?’

Yet, the longer she gazed, the stronger her premonition became. This intuition told her that this was indeed her future.

“Do you see it clearly? This is your fate, Camilla,” Alice said with a smile.

The vacant-eyed Camilla in the mirror suddenly trembled. The next second, her expression twisted in terror, as if a deep psychological trauma had been triggered.

She shrieked hysterically, frantically tearing at her own hair.

Outside the mirror, Camilla’s eyes widened, filled with sheer horror. An instinct began to take root within her, making her increasingly certain that this vision would come true.

With Alice’s assistance, Camilla successfully advanced to become a ninth-tier “Witch.”

Alice then moved the mirror away, leaning in to meet Camilla’s gaze up close.

“Look at me. Now, what do you feel?” Alice asked earnestly.

Camilla blinked, Alice’s face clearly reflected in her eyes.

Then, a powerful chill enveloped her, making her shiver uncontrollably.

‘It’s her!!’

A voice rose from the depths of Camilla’s heart, screaming at her.

‘This is the person who will turn me into that image in the mirror!!’

The witch’s foresight allowed her to distinctly feel the impending disaster, and the source of this catastrophe was Alice, standing right before her.

She began to tremble uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.

She wanted to flee immediately, but she was firmly bound to the pillar.

“It seems the advancement was a success,” Alice confirmed, observing Camilla’s reaction.

“Alice… no, Levi,” Camilla pleaded in a trembling voice. “I was wrong. Please, spare me. I, I… I don’t want to become like that!”

Since birth, she had almost never yielded. But under Alice’s relentless assault, her spirit had been completely overwhelmed by fear.

“Oh, what a coincidence. The people you forced to jump from buildings, leaving them disabled; those you bullied into dropping out of school; and I, whom you falsely accused and threw into prison, tortured into a cripple—we all didn’t want to become like that either,” Alice said, a poised, noble smile gracing her face.

“I will never do such things again, I promise! I will turn over a new leaf! Please, forgive me!! Please?” Camilla cried, begging for mercy.

“Camilla, my dearest Camilla. Some mistakes indeed have a chance at forgiveness…” Alice crouched down, reaching out to stroke Camilla’s head, speaking earnestly. “But you are different. For your victims, those harms are already too severe to mend. Your sins cannot be washed away by a mere confession.”

“Tell me, what good would your turning over a new leaf do for us? The people disabled because of you cannot be healed. The futures of those you falsely imprisoned are ruined. And I, who you almost killed, though I ultimately survived, that has nothing to do with your regret.”

“One always has to pay the price for the consequences they cause, don’t they?”

“You…” Camilla stared at Alice in disbelief. “Do you not understand mercy at all?”

“I never knew you were so humorous,” Alice said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “You’re the least qualified person to say that, aren’t you?”

“You stone-hearted demon!” Alice’s repeated refusal twisted Camilla’s expression into one of agony. “I’ve apologized, what more do you want from me? Can’t you even grant the most basic forgiveness?”

“The pain of being harmed is known only to the victim. Forgiveness is a right belonging solely to the victim. No one has the right to demand I forgive you, especially not you, the perpetrator.”

Alice stood up, retreated two steps, then tossed a small vial that rolled to Camilla’s feet. Before Camilla could react, the liquid inside the vial began to boil violently.

The vial shattered, and a thick, pungent toxic mist rose, enveloping Camilla. Alice, using her “Curse Weaver” ability, had transformed the potion she personally brewed into a toxic mist.

A choking scent filled her nostrils. Camilla, caught off guard, inhaled the toxic mist and began to cough violently.

“The potion, Joy and Pain. For a period, your body will experience joy and pain amplified several times over,” Alice stated calmly, then produced a scarecrow. “While you were unconscious, I made something nice for you.”

Camilla looked over, utterly bewildered, then suddenly shivered again. The Witch’s ability allowed her to sense the misfortune the scarecrow would bring her.

Alice ran her finger along the scarecrow’s body.

“Ah!” Camilla violently flinched, her entire body arching due to the extreme sensitivity.

“Very effective, then…” Alice said, pulling out a needle.

Camilla instantly gasped, about to cry out a “No”—

Alice, without hesitation, plunged the needle into the scarecrow’s right foot.

That night, screams as shrill as a vengeful spirit erupted from the hayloft, echoing long and mournfully over the abandoned farmstead in the desolate wilderness.

“This is a voodoo doll I made with your hair, not directly dug from your body, so you won’t be injured. I still need to handle your aftermath, after all,” Alice remarked, admiring Camilla’s struggles in extreme pain. “However, this kind of pain, beyond the limits of ordinary people, should be enough to break one’s spirit, wouldn’t you agree? For the next hour, let’s have some fun.”

With that, under Camilla’s despairing gaze, Alice pulled out a second needle.