Witch – Chapter 100 – The Witch and the Black Knight (11)

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A dream…?

My eyes fluttered open to the plush comfort of blankets.

Not the softness of a bed, but the slightly rough texture of a sofa… A sofa?

This wasn’t a dream.

Right. I fainted.

Because I felt that blunt demon sword pressing against me and panicked like an idiot.

…It was huge. Unreasonably huge.

Like a sweet potato—no, what am I even thinking?!

I didn’t think Edel would do anything improper while I was unconscious, but just in case, I checked under the covers. No signs of tampering.

“Haah…”

Rubbing my face, I checked the time—about an hour had passed since I blacked out.

“Awake?”

“Eek—?!”

At Edel’s voice, I instinctively cocooned myself in the blanket, letting out an undignified squeak. Peeking out, I spotted him sitting across from me, legs crossed, reading a book.

How is he so calm after what happened?!

Our crimson eyes met for a split second before I hid again.

Calm down, Estelle.

In my mind, angel and devil versions of myself held an emergency meeting.

‘Technically, you’re the victim here.’

‘But what good is hiding?!’

‘Go out there and assert dominance with the power of righteous fury!’

—So argued Angel Estelle.

‘Just cut it off.’

‘Or rip out the root.’

‘Or add a new rule and neuter him.’

—Countered Devil Estelle.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t commit to either side.

“Don’t worry. As I’ve said before, attacking a defenseless Strong One won’t make me stronger.”

“W-Who said anything about that?!”

I yelled from inside my blanket fortress.

“……”

Silence. I cautiously peeked out again.

Edel had already returned to his book, ignoring me entirely. Now it just looks like I’m the only one overreacting.

Come to think of it, Edel once said just seeing me made it… stand at attention. But this wasn’t some sudden hormonal surge.

Strictly speaking, this was… an accident. A minor one I could easily forget.

If I hadn’t recklessly climbed onto him, this would’ve never happened… Ugh.

“Ahem!”

I sat up on the sofa, coughing awkwardly. Sadly, I lacked the wit to smoothly break the tension.

Maybe if he asks something—anything—to change the subject?

I shot him a pleading look.

“Strong One. Why did the Witch of the South curse Aria?”

Edel paused his reading to ask.

A question completely unrelated to love—or getting stronger. It felt like deliberate consideration, and I was grateful.

“Hmm… Well. The Witch of the South hates the Witch of the East. Since the Witch of the East is deeply involved with the Holy Kingdom, she targeted Aria to spite her.”

“Why not confront her directly? Even a divine proxy like Aria couldn’t resist a witch’s curse.”

The Holy Capital, Florencia.

The true name of the nameless god—the Embryo—was sealed there.

“Because… the Witch of the East is hiding in the Holy Capital. It’s a sanctuary where curses and evil energies can’t penetrate. And the Witch of the South can’t leave her territory due to the Witch of the East’s power.”

That’s why I didn’t pursue Carté when he fled with Lucia.

If a witch enters the capital unprotected, they become little more than immortal meat shields—unable to use magic or skills.

Plus, the holy energy there deals extra damage to witches and demons. Not exactly a welcoming place.

Though by Volume 3, Agnes and Floria would take over the Holy Kingdom and fix everything anyway.

“How strong is the Witch of the South? If she didn’t exist, Aria wouldn’t have suffered.”

Edel solemnly drew his actual demon sword, as if ready to go slay her immediately.

Had he grown attached to Sion and Aria’s story? Or was he just too immersed? I couldn’t help but giggle.

Who knew this battle-crazed knight had such a cute side?

“Sion and Aria defeat her anyway. Besides, love shines brighter through adversity. Without the curse, Aria would’ve never learned love—or claimed the divine throne.”

A doll without emotions.

Born solely to serve as God’s proxy, Aria only gained feelings because the curse made her imperfect.

“Love is complicated.”

“Of course. There’s no single ‘right’ way to love. It takes countless forms.”

Edel didn’t seem to fully grasp it, but he sheathed his sword and closed the book.

“Then what is your form? Your way?”

“Huh? M-Me?”

I reflexively avoided his gaze.

Ugh… I’d need to have actually been in love to answer that.

I’d preached about love, but I’d never personally experienced it. In a way, I was just as clueless as Edel.

I could gush over others’ romances but never imagined my own. Maybe I’d deliberately avoided thinking about it.

Like someone had covered my eyes, leaving me in darkness. The deeper I thought, the more I sank into confusion.

I didn’t feel this way about Josie or Dorothy. Why was romantic love so hard to picture?

“Does this require a praise sigil?”

While I agonized, Edel unexpectedly spoke up.

“S-Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Then, in your eyes, what is my form? I can’t imagine it myself.”

Edel’s form…?

Hmm… What would love look like for him?

As the Black Knight, he’d been a strength-obsessed fool. But now?

Innocent? Pure? Sometimes dumb, sometimes endearingly oblivious…

And the way he struggled with utensils during meals…

Then it hit me—the perfect analogy.

“Edel. What’s your favorite food?”

I’d asked before, but I wanted to hear it again.

“Hmm… The special potato dish from this morning. That was the best.”

I’d expected him to say the rotten potatoes he won from our first fight. Instead, he named my cooking.

I couldn’t help puffing up a little.

“Then sharing that food with someone you love—that’s your form. Your way.”

“Hmm… Sharing food? Unthinkable.”

“I knew you’d say that. But love changes people.”

The concept was foreign to him, but to me, that selflessness was Edel’s pure love.

“Eating together, sharing thoughts—it makes the food taste better. At least, that’s what I think.”

Hypothetically.

Purely in the context of food.

“Good question. I’ll award you a praise sigil.”

Leaving the earlier awkwardness behind, I etched one onto his hand.

For covering me with a blanket.

For breaking the tension with questions.

For asking something thoughtful.

And for complimenting my cooking.

Four sigils at once. Now five glowed on his hand.

“Strong One. Can you not count? Why four?”

He stared blankly between me and his hand.

Who’s the idiot here?

I’d gone all out, and he had the nerve to complain?

“Don’t want them? I’ll take them back.”

“I never said that.”

He shielded his hand and leaned away. Unbelievable.

“You wanted to know my name, right?”

“……”

Strong One. You. I’d grown used to these terms—but after holding hands, a name wasn’t too much.

“I’ll only say it once. No repeats.”

Hands behind my back, I bent down to his eye level. His tense expression was so funny I couldn’t resist grinning. Leaning close to his ear, I whispered:

“Es. Tel. Le.”

Slowly. Clearly.

So he wouldn’t forget.

Then I pulled back with a playful laugh.

“It means ‘star’.”

“Estelle…”

Hearing him say it sent a prickling warmth through my chest, but I brushed it off.

As I headed upstairs to sleep, Edel kept muttering my name like a mantra.

Is he even listening to me?

Still, the fainting incident was neatly smoothed over.

And watching Edel take step after step toward understanding love was… satisfying.

Now, time to enjoy a proper bed—soft and warm—instead of this stiff sofa.