Most citizens today likely couldn’t comprehend how dangerous they were. After all, Witches had been reduced to cautionary tales—”If you misbehave, a Witch will come for you.” Their atrocities were now distant legends, softened by time.
Just as Rogue tensed—
“Ah, have you awakened, Miseria?”
At Rico’s words, Rogue stiffened. The girl called Miseria was slowly opening her eyes. Her long lashes fluttered before lifting fully.
“Oh dear. Have I slept too long again?”
Muttering to herself, she turned her face toward them.
Her eyes were a deep, endless blue.
For a moment, Rogue felt himself drowning in them—like a man lost at sea, screaming for help, utterly powerless.
Shaking off the sensation, Rogue took in her doll-like, sculpted features. Her face was flawless, her choker blending seamlessly with her skin, her white hair gleaming under the lights. In another era, she might have been worshipped.
But before he knew it, Rogue was stepping back.
“There’s no need to fear. We’re all human, after all.”
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The white-haired girl smiled at him with a clear, ringing voice. The words were spoken so casually that he stood frozen for a moment, dumbfounded. Then, slowly, shame and anger welled up inside him.
“……Human? You witches—”
“Now, now, hold on. Let’s start with introductions, shall we? I’m Miseria. A prisoner of the state. And you are?”
Cut off mid-sentence, he gritted his teeth.
“……Rogue. Rogue Macabesta.”
The girl smiled again.
“Hmm, Rogue-kun. So you’ve been assigned to the Sixth Division—any thoughts on that? Like, say… wanting to push Velladonna off a cliff?”
It took him a second to swallow his shock.
“……Hey, how the hell does a witch like you know the Director?”
In Undeworth, witches weren’t supposed to know anything about the outside world—they lived like literal corpses. But this made it sound like Velladonna and this witch—Miseria—were acquainted.
“Hm.”
The white-haired girl furrowed her well-shaped brows and turned to Rico.
“Rico. Was this poor rookie not told anything?”
(Not told?)
“H-hey—”
Rogue tried to interject, but Rico also tilted her head, still facing the girl.
“Is that so? I assumed Director Velladonna had explained everything to him before sending him here.”
The way they spoke made it seem like they shared some unspoken understanding. After a moment, as if reaching a conclusion, Rico turned back to him.
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding, Investigator Rogue. Let me explain the Sixth Division to you. This is a team that investigates cases alongside the great sinners—the witches. As such, you’ll be overseeing their cooperation and solving cases with their assistance.”
For a second, his breath stopped.
Investigating with witches? Are they insane?
And why the hell would Velladonna dump this on him without even—
Then it hit him. The stalled murder case. The pressure from above bearing down on his results-driven superior. In the Investigation Bureau, the slightest misstep could be fatal. So of course she’d use whatever pawn was available—especially one as stubborn as him.
If he hadn’t refused that promotion, would he be in this mess? Rogue cursed his own choices.
Just as his vision started to darken, Rico spoke again.
“Apologies for rushing you, but may we proceed?”
Clenching his jaw, he nodded.
“……What else?”
“Director Velladonna left instructions. I was planning to tell you once things settled, but…”
“……Spit it out.”
“[Heeey Rogue! How’s it goin’? It’s your beloved Velladonna heeere!]”
Rico’s voice suddenly turned sickeningly sweet.
“Wh—what the hell?”
“These were the Director’s exact words. She insisted I deliver them verbatim.”
“Tch… I’m not even gonna ask…”
Rico continued.
“[Sooo, I need you to take those witches and hunt down the ‘Life Taker,’ ‘kay? Thing is, the Sixth Division had a leader before, buuut he pissed off the witches. But we can’t just leave a gap in the investigation, riiight? Sooo, I thought—hey, maybe our ace, Rogue-kun, can handle it! Sound good, Roguuuue? Wrap this up fast, ‘kay? If you don’t… … … you’ll be stuck playing house with witches forever. Oh! Gotta run—meeting time~! Toodles!] …That concludes the message.”
With that, Rico bowed. “As of today, you are officially appointed Chief of the Sixth Division. We look forward to your leadership, Investigator Rogue.”
In his mind, he hurled every curse imaginable at Velladonna.
Right now, he could probably punch her. That’s how unfair this was.
When he glanced back, the white-haired girl was smiling faintly.
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah, real better,”
he shot back sarcastically, but her smile didn’t waver.
Then, a voice from among the witches muttered, “Ugh, this again?” He could’ve sworn there was pity in it. Had others been dumped here like this before? His gaze flicked briefly toward the witches.
Noticing his reaction, the white-haired girl nodded.
“Well, most end up here against their will, just like you. But not knowing anything? That’s a first.”
“……”
His anger toward the Director only grew.
“……You seem to know a lot, huh?”
“Of course. After all, I’ve been the [handler] lately.”
“Handler?”
When he asked again, the white-haired girl said,
She smirked. “Plainly put, your investigative partner. You’ve had those before, right? Here, it’s volunteer-based. For now, I’m the one assigned.”
As she spoke, she rose from her chair. Her long hair swayed, and by the time he registered it, she was offering her hand.
“Looking forward to working with you.”
“……Yeah.”
He removed his glove and took her hand. He’d expected no warmth—no blood flowing—but her skin was surprisingly warm. Cooler than his, but undeniably alive. Maybe that “human” claim wasn’t entirely a lie.
Logically, the Bureau wouldn’t let uncontrollable witches loose on investigations. He felt his tension easing—until another voice cut through.
“Miseria~? When are you killing this one?”
“Huh?”
He jerked his hand back. Killing?
“……What the hell does that mean?”
“My apologies. She enjoys scaring people.”
“Oh please—you drove the last one to suicide!”
Another voice chimed in.
The white-haired girl grinned like a child caught in a lie.
“Ahaha. That was just how it ended up. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“Liar!”
“Shameless!”
“You’re the worst!”
The witches jeered, but Rogue was stuck on one thing. An investigator killed himself? What kind of hellish situation would cause that?
He turned to Rico.
“No way. I’m not working with murderers. Get me the Director.”
“Rest assured, Investigator Rogue. They have safety measures.” She gestured to the girl. “Look at her neck.”
Following her gaze, he saw a black choker around the white-haired girl’s throat. Scanning the room, every witch wore the same.
Rico explained,
“This is the [Collar].”
“Collar?”
“A type of magical tool. If any of three conditions are met, it instantly kills the wearer. First: direct murder. Second: leaving permitted boundaries—which, for them, is the entire imperial territory. Even a single body part crossing counts. And the last—”
The white-haired girl cut in.
“—Exceeding the allowed magic threshold. Thanks to this, we can only use child-level spells.”
She chuckled, as if amused.
“Hold on. They still have hands, right? Even without magic, that’s a problem.”
Pens, knives, teeth—if they could use their hands, the methods were endless. And the choker’s flimsy appearance didn’t inspire confidence. Even a girl could probably break it.
“With all due respect, Investigator,” Rico said, “the Collar cannot be removed. It only releases upon the wearer’s death. Until then, not even a [Magic Sword] could break it.”
“Harsh, isn’t it?”
The white-haired girl nodded sagely.
“And that’s supposed to make me feel safe?” Rogue glared at her.
“Speaking of—didn’t they say you drove an investigator to suicide? How are you still alive?”
“Ah, yes, that.”
“Doesn’t that count as killing someone? Why aren’t you dead?”
“People can die from mere words, Rogue-kun. Sometimes, the most unexpected ones are the trigger.”
“Don’t dodge the question.”
Lowering her voice, she replied matter-of-factly,
“If suicide counted, the Bureau couldn’t use us. Plenty of people would off themselves just to take a witch down.”
“And that’s the excuse?”
“Oh? Unhappy?”
“Of course! Who’d want to work with witches?”
“How cruel. And here I thought we’d get along.”
“Cut the crap, witch.”
When Rogue said that, the white-haired girl winked at him.
“No, really. I like people like you.”
He sighed inwardly.
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