Despair Witch

The witch codenamed Despair wore a sickly smile of satisfaction.

She slowly bent down, her slender fingers gently stroking Lilia's grief-twisted cheek.

"Look at you, such a pitiful sight, my dear child."

Her voice was as soft as a sigh, yet every word pierced the heart, striking directly at Lilia's most vulnerable place. "Did you really think you could escape the fate of us witches?

We were born to bring calamity, destined to writhe in the shadows and blossom in despair."

Lilia's body shuddered at the icy touch. She tried to struggle, only to find herself restrained by some invisible force, able only to let the witch's fingertips wander across her face.

Her vacant eyes stared at the ground, tears blurring her vision as regret and pain coiled around her heart like venomous snakes.

"Edwin Holders, the benefactor who pulled you out of the mud—he is about to fall.

When he dies, when all his glory has completely faded away, where do you think you will have left to go?

This estate, this land, every corner of Backlund—there will no longer be a place for you.

You will return to those dark streets, to the abyss of darkness where you truly belong."

The witch's fingertips slowly slid from Lilia's cheek to her chin, then gently lifted it, forcing Lilia to meet her gaze.

She savored the surging despair in Lilia's eyes. That was precisely the nourishment she needed, the source of her power.

A whimper escaped Lilia's throat. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out; only tears rolled down like beads from a broken string.

Her hand rose unconsciously, trembling as she tried to grasp the cold finger pressed against her face.

Like the only piece of driftwood within reach while drowning, even though that driftwood itself was