Hate Me, Miss Witch!

Sylvie had a long, long dream.

In that dream, she wasn't the only daughter of a grand duke. Instead, she was just a member of one of the countless ordinary families living in the capital.

Her mother was still alive.

On a winter evening, her family sat happily around a warm fireplace, sharing dinner. The aroma of food lingered in the air, and the fire's warmth drove away the chill, bringing comfort to her cold body.

Sylvie found herself sinking into the dream's warmth.

Ever since the first time the bronze cross deep in her soul had erupted and taken her mother's life, Sylvie hadn't had a peaceful night of sleep. Even when she managed to drift off, she'd wake up in the dead of night, haunted by nightmares.

This was the first time in ten years she'd slept so soundly, as if all her worries had melted away.

Slowly, Sylvie's consciousness was drawn back from the dream's depths, and her memories began to return.

But the clearer her memories became, the colder her heart felt.

I actually… let my guard down completely and fell asleep.

What about the thing on that bronze cross in my soul? The one that had already shown signs of losing control?

She didn't dare imagine the aftermath: the all-consuming darkness, the corrupted and rotting flesh, the lives lost amidst pollution and despair, and the overwhelming malice from which there was no escape.

However—

When she reached out with her mind toward the bronze cross, the scene she dreaded didn't appear.

The shadowy darkness that usually writhed on the twisted figure bound to the bronze cross was now resting quietly.

Even at her best, Sylvie had never managed to suppress that darkness this thoroughly. Yet now, it seemed… almost as if it had fallen asleep with her.

"Sometimes, the more you dwell on something troubling, the harder it is to find a way out."

A familiar voice rang in her ears.

Opening her eyes, Sylvie realized the warmth she had felt wasn't just from the dream.

The boy who had pulled her into the sea earlier had started a campfire on the shore, using twigs and dried leaves. Hanging over the fire were two skewers of fish, sizzling as oil dripped into the flames.

The small firewood crackled, pushing back the cold and solitude of the winter night.

The boy stood and handed one skewer of grilled fish to Sylvie, keeping the other for himself. But after taking a bite, he made a face and set it aside.

"I knew it. Those survival shows are all lies. Grilled fish without seasoning is barely edible. Next time, I'll have Shiny prepare a spice kit in our pocket dimension."

"Silver, this is your job now."

"Chirp-chirp! (Master, you created this disaster—deal with it yourself!)"

The boy's small snow weasel companion raised its fluffy tail, elegantly refusing its master's attempt to shirk responsibility.

Sylvie watched the playful interaction between the boy and his beast, speaking softly: "Is that your bonded beast?"

"Yeah, my very first one."

"That's nice."

A hint of envy flashed in Sylvie's violet eyes. "My father says most lower-tier beasts can't withstand the abnormalities in my soul. Contracting with me would be suicide for them."

"I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to become a beast tamer myself."

"You will."

His reply was immediate, as if he wasn't guessing but stating a certainty.

"One day, you'll become a beast tamer far stronger than your father."

"Really?"

Sylvie chuckled lightly. Though his words were fanciful, she found herself wanting to believe them.

After a brief silence, the fire flickered, illuminating the dark night.

Eventually, Sylvie asked softly, "Why did you jump into the sea earlier?"

"To save you, of course."

Sylvie brushed her messy hair aside. "Is that how you save people? By dragging them into the sea with you?"

"If someone's determined to die, there's no stopping them. If not this time, there will be another."

"But only by confronting death can one truly understand the value of life."

After bickering with his snow weasel for a while, the boy finally resigned himself to taking another bite of the grilled fish. He grimaced but continued chewing.

"Of course, saving you is a bit of a misnomer."

"The thing inside you would never let its host truly die. If I'm right, you're quite a rare vessel to it."

"Still, living like that… isn't it no different from being a walking corpse?"

Sylvie picked up on the deeper meaning behind his words, recalling his question to her in the depths of the sea: "You know who I really am? And you still dared to approach me?"

"I do. And I know plenty of people are terrified of the grand duke's daughter, avoiding you like the plague at every gathering."

"But so what?"

His tone was light. "If someone lived their whole life under the weight of others' opinions, wouldn't that be unbearable?"

Tossing aside the finished skewer, the boy leaned back against a rock with satisfaction.

"There's a law in my homeland: if a mentally ill person commits a crime during an episode, they are exonerated."

"Of course, this law has its controversies, and it's far from perfect. But I think its original intent is sound—"

"To offer forgiveness to the innocent and punishment to the guilty."

"So I believe this: you, who carry that power, weren't born evil."

"Whether you are good or evil isn't determined by your origins but by the choices you make."

The choices I make…

Sylvie silently repeated his words to herself.

The shoreline fell quiet once more. They sat by the fire, drying their clothes, while only the crackle of the flames filled the air.

After a while, distant voices broke the silence.

Although Sylvie was not well-loved, the grand duke's faction loyalists couldn't simply ignore her safety. Realizing she had run away, they quickly sent out a search party.

"Well then, see you next time."

"If people find the grand duke's daughter soaking wet and alone with a strange boy late at night, who knows what kind of gossip will spread."

The boy stood, brushing off his now-dry coat.

Sylvie hesitated for a moment before speaking quickly, "Can you tell me your name?"

"Xaya."

"Xaya Egut."

"Three months older than you, though I'm just an adopted member of the family…"

"But by age, you can call me Big Brother Xaya."

"Oh, and—almost forgot."

The boy paused, stepped closer, and gently tucked her windblown hair behind her ear.

Then, he fastened a crystal hairpin to her locks.

"Happy birthday, Sylvie."

By the time Sylvie came to her senses, the boy had already vanished.

Reaching up, she touched the hairpin on her temple. The amethyst crystal still carried a faint warmth.

This was the first birthday gift she had received since her mother passed.

She had planned to end her life on this final winter night of her seventeenth year.

But now, this seventeenth birthday…

Had been a truly happy one.

"Xaya… Big Brother Xaya."

Murmuring the unfamiliar name, Sylvie picked up the skewer of cold grilled fish beside her.

She took a small bite, and a smile unknowingly spread across her lips.

"It really doesn't taste great."

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