The shadow of a cloud shifted, and the thin man sitting on the windowsill climbed down.
The chains on his handcuffs clinked crisply... He really was emaciated. The chains of the handcuffs on his hands and feet seemed almost heavier than his body.
"Alice..." His voice, belonging to the man called Mordred, was hoarse, as though his vocal cords had been scorched.
"Have you not spoken for too long?" Miss Witch tilted her head and studied him before shaking her head. "But I am not Alice. I am her daughter, Gillian."
"Daughter?" His expression seemed somewhat bewildered. Then he fell silent, as if recalling something.
Miss Witch frowned as well. She seemed to be muttering to herself, yet also speaking for him to hear. "Sixty years of imprisonment, as well as poison concocted by a hundred secret medicine masters from the Magician's Association, have already muddled your mind and memories...? Look at me, Mordred. You should remember who you are."
He stood motionless, looking more like a skeleton.
This castle possessed terrifying anti-magic power... She could not use any abilities here. That was precisely why Pugin had agreed to let her visit him—even so, before the visit, she had undergone an extremely thorough search to ensure she had not hidden anything on her person.
But she had still brought something... Miss Witch now lifted her skirt and slipped her hand beneath it. At that moment, her face showed a sensitive expression like the pleasure of the flesh.
She slowly exhaled, her gaze gleaming like phosphorescence... Then she withdrew her hand, a tiny glass bottle appearing in it.
Holding the bottle, she slowly walked up to Mordred and pulled out the stopper. "It took me thirty years—and I was hunted by the Magician's Association for thirty years—to find the ingredients for