Maxiem jumped in surprise, eyes nearly popping out, yet snatched up the book in an instant.

“How did such a book end up here? May I—may I look at it?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, Edan began flipping through the pages frantically.

Though introduced as a priest of the library, he clearly had an intense fascination with books.

Since black magic texts would be impossible to find in temples, this must be a rare, precious item.

For the first time, Maxiem’s face lit up with a genuinely bright smile as he devoured the book in moments.

“May I ask where you found this book?”

Abruptly halting his frantic page-turning, Maxiem looked up at me, his expression suddenly darkened.

Well, I understood. Black magic was blatantly illegal, after all.

I raised my index finger and pointed to the spot where the black book had been.

“It was over there, in that corner.”

Maxiem followed my fingertip with his gaze.

Only then did he calmly survey the entire library.

“There’s an enormous quantity of books here. On the way here, Lord Hillstain Mathias mentioned this was the Duke’s hidden residence, but I never imagined he had a hobby of collecting books.”

“I don’t think Edan has that kind of hobby either. Because Edan doesn’t read books.”

“Huh? Then what are all these books for?”

Seeing Maxiem’s bewildered expression, I nodded sympathetically—I fully understood his confusion.

“They probably belonged to the original owner of this manor.”

“Who was the original owner?”

“I don’t know. It’s impossible to figure out. There’s only one book on black magic; the rest range from gardening guides to children’s fairy tales, romance novels… and sometimes even extremely scandalous red books.”

As I spoke, I recalled the book Edan had been holding—something like “For a Burning Night”—and my face flushed red.

Shaking my head to erase the memory that had surfaced, Maxiem suddenly clung to the edge of the desk.

“What’s wrong?”

“T, t, this is the Archmage’s emblem!”

“What?”

The Archmage’s emblem? I’d never seen such a thing.

Approaching to inspect it, I indeed spotted a tiny emblem.

But it was far too simple—a plain square mark—to be called the Archmage’s emblem.

“This?”

Raising my eyebrows skeptically, Maxiem immediately began darting busily between the bookshelves.

“Look! Here too! And here, and here! This emblem is stamped on every bookshelf!”

Maxiem, arms flung wide as he shouted excitedly, sparkled with eyes like someone who’d just discovered a treasure vault.

Then suddenly, he whipped his head toward me.

“Lady Latieana Merigold.”

“Yes?”

“Does His Grace know? That this place is…”

“That it was once the Archmage’s stronghold?”

“No. I didn’t know either, until now. And it was Lord Ruben who purchased this place; neither he nor the Duke showed much interest in the manor.”

After all, it was originally bought just to give the overly sensitive Edan a temporary place to rest.

Maxiem clutched his head.

“To possess such a priceless heritage… truly befitting His Grace.”

“But aside from this book, there weren’t many important ones. Especially regarding witches—I searched everywhere and found nothing…”

“That’s impossible. There must be a secret chamber somewhere.”

Hmm. The Archmage, huh.

Well, considering how bizarre this manor felt when I first arrived, it wouldn’t be strange if a quirky Archmage had once lived here.

“They were someone who mastered all forms of magic—black magic, witchcraft, everything—to rise to the highest position. Though later ostracized for withdrawing from political struggles, they’re still revered as a legend among mages and priests, even after their passing. To think this stronghold still bears their traces… I’d almost consider resigning my priesthood to…”

Maxiem, who had been running his hands over every surface of the building, suddenly fell silent.

“But… why are you searching for books about witches?”

“Well, that’s…”

Where should I begin explaining? Having served as Edan’s spy for years, Maxiem was trustworthy enough to keep secrets. But still—he was a temple priest, so I needed to be cautious about mentioning Ivy Violet. And also regarding my own healing power…

Seeing me hesitate slightly, Maxiem stepped abruptly closer.

“Actually, I’ve also wanted to ask you something, Lady Latieana Merigold.”

“What is it?”

“That day… what exactly happened in the High Priestess’s chamber? What kind of person is High Priestess Ivy Violet?”

“…Huh?”

That day, neither Maxiem nor Hillstain Mathias witnessed Ivy draining my power.

So why ask this now? Did he know something?

“First, I’d like to ask—were the two of you truly like family?”

Like family…? More like X-rated enemies.

She just saw me as a sucker.

Recalling the past memories that surfaced when I’d lost consciousness, I frowned.

“No. Not at all.”

Maxiem gave a small nod at my cold, dismissive reply—as if confirming his suspicion that such a horrific claim couldn’t be true.

“So it was a lie after all.”

“You suspected it?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know until I escorted you to the temple. I was simply told it was a request from His Grace. But clearly, that day…”

Maxiem’s gaze drifted to my hands.

“I saw your hands, Lady Latieana Merigold, when you were mummified. And truthfully, I’ve never told anyone this… but I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“I saw High Priestess Ivy Violet turning the Priestess candidates into mummies. So…”

“…You’re saying that what I saw in Ivy’s chamber—my hands turning to mummy, and the Priestess candidates dying as mummies—that was all Ivy’s doing?”

“Ah, probably.”

Maxiem seemed slightly flustered by how calmly I received this enormous secret.

I spread my hands wide for him to see.

“It’s not ‘probably.’ Ivy turned my hands into mummy that day. Thankfully, they returned to normal—but if Edan hadn’t appeared, I would’ve died as a mummy, just like the other Priestess candidates.”

“Exactly! My suspicions were right!”

Maxiem clenched his fist triumphantly, as if he’d anticipated this.

“Wait a minute—then how…? The High Priestess possesses ample healing power, yet…”

Maxiem trailed off. After pondering deeply, his eyes suddenly widened—he seemed to have guessed something. He lifted his chin and stared intently at me.

“By any chance… have you ever used your healing power on His Grace?”

His words carried layered meanings.

A hint of suspicion toward Ivy’s healing power, and a hint of curiosity toward my supposedly insignificant healing ability.

“Yes.”

The moment I nodded, Maxiem almost shouted—then abruptly clamped his hand over his mouth.

“S, so His Grace’s recent good mood, his storming into the temple to rescue you—it was all because…”

Maxiem, ignoring my words, rolled his eyes wildly as he struggled to organize his chaotic thoughts.

As a priest, he knew better than anyone.

The Priestess candidates died as mummies because their healing power was stolen.

That day, my hands turned to mummy—and Edan came to save me.

In other words, Ivy tried to steal my healing power, and Edan stopped her.

Maxiem, Edan’s spy, must have found it strange.

He’d thought the same as Hillstain Mathias—questioning why Edan, suffering from side effects, cared for me instead of Ivy. And Ivy had desperately sought me out.

Maxiem likely realized I possessed stronger power than Ivy.

“If it’s not too rude… I’d like to re-measure Lady Latieana Merigold’s healing power. Could you assist me?”

As I’d expected. Maxiem suspected I might be the real thing.

“Of course. Gladly.”

Maxiem, who instantly deduced this place was the Archmage’s stronghold.

A man who, as a priest, had access to information—and trustworthy enough that revealing Ivy’s true nature wouldn’t be risky.

Moreover, he managed the temple library’s collection, which was far vaster than this one.

In many ways, allying with him would be advantageous.

I extended my hand toward Maxiem, signaling willingness to negotiate—ready anytime.

“…?”

Unaware of my intent, Maxiem looked puzzled but eagerly clasped my hand for a handshake—when suddenly, BANG BANG!—the sound of a door shattering echoed through the room.

“E, Edan?”

Goodness! You nearly gave me a heart attack!

“What’s with this sudden—”

“Knock.”

“…”

Where on earth did you see that as a knock?

Edan, his temper clearly twisted again, tilted his head sideways while saying something utterly nonsensical. Behind him, Hillstain Mathias appeared.

“Let me shake hands too.”

“…”

Seeing the fierce glares from both men, Maxiem slowly withdrew his hand.

“W, well then… I think I’ll head back now. Please, could you possibly let me leave?”

What are you saying, Maxiem?

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wearing a pained expression.

Honestly, every time these lunatics show up, my head starts aching.

Ivy Violet returned to her room with an expression so cold-blooded no warmth could be found.

It was the deep dawn hour, silent even of insect chirps—the sound of her garments hitting the floor echoed loudly.

Into the vast, darkened room,

light poured down.

Naked under the moonlight, Ivy raised her hand toward the window.

Her nails, studded densely with pearls and diamonds, glittered dazzlingly even under moonlight.

They were glamorous nails, perfectly suited to her slender fingers.

Her skin grew ever paler, smooth as glass—the universally praised beauty of the High Priestess.

Whirling her body, Ivy stared into the large mirror—nowhere in her reflection remained the cruel woman from moments before.

“Useless things.”

Ivy briefly curled her smooth lips into a smile, then swiftly scowled.

She’d returned after absorbing the power of Priestess candidates tonight. Tomorrow morning, several more mummies would be discovered—but it wouldn’t harm her in the slightest.

Who would dare imagine

that the reason Priestess candidates were dying in the temple… was none other than herself, the High Priestess?