Under the night sky, and beneath the makeshift tent to shield from the rain, the space was not very spacious.

At best, it was the size of Ibi’s mansion garden. However, it didn’t feel humble. The salt crystals, menacingly glinting in the light, filled the surroundings.

The dazzling palace, seemingly crafted from crystals, had a considerable number of people gathered, excluding Ibi and Enthe.

The audience seats visible across seemed to be divided meticulously, considering the sensitivity of the guests. Still, due to the close distance, the popularity was palpable. Perhaps because of this, there were no lights in the stands, and the guests were wearing masks.

So, no one noticed Ibi’s shabby attire and bound wrists.

‘Where is Viscount Montara?’

As Ibi turned her eyes to find Cacel, a hand reached from behind, grabbing Ibi’s chin.

“Even if you know someone, don’t search for them. You’ll end up like those mercenaries earlier.”

Whispered Enthe from behind, seemingly reading Ibi’s thoughts.

Ibi, startled, sighed lowly, then swatted away Enthe’s icy hand.

“Don’t bother singing. It won’t work.”

“Since it won’t work, why say not to do it?”

“Just concentrate over there.”

Ah, Ibi chuckled at Enthe’s nonsense, seemingly dismissive. However, Enthe was indulgent.

“See, I’ve seen a lot.”

Enthe happily pointed at the people in the stands.

The gathered people seemed excited, appearing as if they were at a party. No, for them, this place was a party venue.

Ibi glanced at them for a moment, then lowered her gaze.

Below, there was a pretty cage. Inside it was a boy with a fragile figure.

The boy seemed quiet, as if familiar with this situation. Even when armed mercenaries appeared, he remained the same.

In contrast, the mercenaries looked excited. Seeing their overly enthusiastic behavior without a hint of fear, it seemed they still didn’t know what the boy in front of them was.

So, Ibi felt a strange sense of disparity once again.

Being in the same space, the situations of the people gathered here were too different.

Guests enjoying themselves.

Owners making money by sitting.

Hunters unaware they are prey.

Living curses confined behind iron bars.

And me, quietly threatened by a madman.

This situation was so eerie and tedious that Ibi, ah, sighed powerlessly.

At that moment, Enthe stooped down and whispered in Ibi’s ear.

“Do you want to live?”

“I want to live.”

“Then I’ll let you live.”

“…Why all this back and forth?”

“Consider it a repayment for saving me yesterday.”

Enthe imitated Ibi’s previous words and laughed. Then, once again, she reached out and wrapped Ibi’s neck.

The fingers coiling around her neck from behind felt like multiple strands of snakes.

As Ibi gasped in surprise from the cold, Enthe laughed and said, “I’ll let you live if you become my ally.”

“Just being an ally is enough?”

“No, you also have to help me with my tasks.”
Huh? When Ibi made a puzzled sound, Enthe kindly added, “Kill the nobles over there. Then I’ll let you live.”

The voice advocating murder sounded peaceful.

Caught off guard by the unrealistic demand, Ibi was frozen, and in the meantime, Enthe asked, “Can you do it?”

“I can, but I don’t want to.”

“If you don’t, I’ll do it. Since everyone’s going to die anyway, it’s better if you survive.”

Enthe’s logic was absurd. He was not in his right mind, merely speaking pretty words, and Ibi involuntarily flinched at the mad talk. Then Enthe reassured her as if consoling her.

“If you want to live, you should be able to do this much.”

Kindly.

“You don’t need to feel guilty; those people don’t either.”

Tenderly.

“Oh, come to think of it, you killed those mercenaries to save yourself. Why pretend to be innocent now?”

And cruelly.

Perplexed, Ibi pondered Enthe’s words, then coldly retorted.

“Why are you telling me to do such a thing?”

“To make you dirty.”

Unlike Ibi’s suppressed voice, Enthe’s response was leisurely.

“So that when you’re broken and useless, there won’t be any need to kill you.”

Enthe was quite considerate. However, his consideration was more like offering to beat you with a bat or a whip, whichever you prefer.

Unable to respond, Ibi mumbled, and Enthe asked.

“Don’t want to?”

“Don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels unpleasant.”

“I guess you have the luxury of caring about your feelings. My words probably sound like a joke to you.”

Enthe laughed softly, moving his hand wrapped around Ibi’s neck. The hand brushed her shoulder and descended down her arm.

Eventually, Enthe, who clasped Ibi’s hand with her fingers entwined, provocatively irritated her.

“Will cutting off one finger change your attitude?”

Unlike pretending to be a maid, Enthe’s current touch was so chilling that one might question if the hand was alive. Even the nails were all dead black.

Touching Ibi’s little finger with her corpse-like hand, Enthe whispered.

“Cut it into two pieces to make it easier to eat.”

Enthe slowly began to bend Ibi’s finger backward, as if intentionally breaking it. No, as if determined to break it.

“Wait, hold on!”