A Gentle Stab Won't Kill You, Fr
Roderick stared blankly at the scene before him. Everything had ended in the blink of an eye. The clearing where Bjorn’s mercenary band had withdrawn like the tide was a wreck. Shattered branches, scattered rock fragments, and a lingering cloud of dust. And right in the middle of it all lay Thirin, face-down on the dirt without the slightest twitch.
Or rather, what should now be called Thirin’s corpse. A sword wound clean through the heart, the same mark visible on her back. Blood had pooled around her, mixing with the dirt into a muddy puddle. The witch who had just been tormenting everyone with bizarre sophistry and that grotesque tongue was gone. All that remained was a slender body growing rapidly cold.
Roderick was overwhelmed by a complicated mix of bitterness and unease. He had known about the agreement between Thirin and Bjorn. The plan was for Bjorn to avoid vital points and for Roderick to help clean up afterward. Yet for some reason, that sword had pierced straight through her heart. So this was how their strange bargain ended.
“Tsk tsk. Off she goes, then.”
Peter’s voice broke the silence. The old priest examined the body for a moment before quickly covering her face with a cloth. Roderick was grateful for that. He couldn’t have brought himself to look into Thirin’s eyes.
Peter turned to him. “I’ll take care of the body. Don’t let anyone else touch it.”
“But…”
“Don’t you have your own duties to attend to?”
Peter glanced at the villagers. Roderick nodded before he even realized it. Truth be told, he had zero desire to handle the witch’s corpse himself. If Peter was volunteering, it was honestly a relief.
“...Understood. I’ll leave it to you, then.”
Roderick forced himself to sound calm. He shouted toward his men and the villagers, who were watching from a distance with fear in their eyes.
“Everyone disperse! There’s nothing more to see! Go back to your homes!”
The baker’s widow sat collapsed in despair. Roderick looked at her with a heavy heart and prepared to leave. Night was deepening.
The path back to the outpost felt unusually bleak. Roderick’s mind remained a tangled mess. Maintaining public order was both his responsibility and his duty. Yet throughout this whole incident, he had failed to fulfill that obligation. More than that, he bore responsibility as the overseer of their agreement. Even though he hadn’t intended for Thirin to die, a responsibility was still a responsibility. That thought kept dragging Roderick’s mind back to her final moments.
That gaze. Those eyes that seemed to mock everyone while somehow looking completely empty. The way her tongue had flicked out in that bizarre manner. And the incomprehensible words she had whispered while coughing up blood at the very end.
After years stationed at the border, Roderick had heard plenty of strange tales—curses from evil god worshippers, vengeful spirits seeking revenge. Stories he had always dismissed as superstition and laughed off. But now…
If she really was a witch…
Her vengeful spirit might come demanding accountability. Plagued by that anxiety, Roderick spent the night awake at the outpost.
And three days passed.
The most notable event over those three days was that the mercenary band had finally left. Almost simultaneously with the return of the Scales of the Goddess, an imperial messenger arrived. The payment for the subjugation had been officially approved. The moment they heard the news, Bjorn’s mercenaries moved out without a shred of hesitation. Whether they feared the witch’s curse or not, they fled the encampment as if running for their lives.
Roderick gave a bitter smile. Some high-ranking official probably had a promotion review coming up. A chaotic duel trial was the last thing they wanted getting out, so they’d quickly paid the subjugation fee, silenced the mercenaries, and buried the whole affair. The report Roderick had sent up would likely vanish without a trace.
The village had returned to an eerily peaceful state. No one uttered ominous words like “witch” or “duel trial” anymore. It was as if none of it had ever happened. Yet Roderick spent every one of those three nights wide awake. The moment he closed his eyes on the outpost cot, her image would appear—grotesque tongue, hollow eyes.
What had Peter done with the body he took away? Had she at least been properly buried? The word the mercenaries had spat out in terror kept echoing in his ears.
Witch.
…Is it really over?
While Roderick tossed and turned in anxiety and self-reproach, a knock sounded at his door. The first visitor in three days.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
It was Priest Peter’s voice. Roderick hesitated a moment before opening the creaking door. The old man standing in the moonlight wore an unusually serious expression.
“...What brings you here at this hour?”
“There’s something you need to see.”
Without further explanation, Peter turned and led the way. The priest guided Roderick toward the church. A chilly night breeze brushed his cheek. Was he going to show him where the witch’s body had been buried? Swallowing hard at the ominous thought, Roderick followed the old man.
What Peter led him to was a small vegetable garden behind the shabby church. There was nothing there. Or rather, there should have been nothing.
“Priest, what exactly—”
Before Roderick could finish, a figure suddenly emerged from the darkness. A familiar silhouette revealed in the moonlight. Slender frame, long flowing hair, a mask covering the face, and above it, those clear yet somehow empty eyes.
“Hey there, Commander.”
It was Thirin. The woman who should have been dead was standing right there.
“W-witch…!”
The witch’s vengeful spirit had returned.
“Uwaaaaaagh!”
Roderick’s brain refused to process the information before him. He foamed at the mouth and fainted on the spot.
“......”
Thirin was utterly dumbfounded.
“What the hell is wrong with this guy? Is the Imperial Army so short on talent they’re hiring epileptics now?”
Peter, standing beside her, gave Thirin a look of pure disdain.
“If you go around looking like a midnight evil spirit, of course anyone would be startled. Just what are you doing, walking around like that? You have a perfectly decent face, young lady.”
“......”
Thirin felt a tiny sting of guilt. She had only wanted to have a little fun scaring him. She hadn’t expected him to make such a scene.
Instead of answering Peter, Thirin nudged the collapsed Roderick with her foot.
“Commander, get up. If you don’t, I’ll rip your hair out.”
“Just what kind of manners do you have? Step aside.”
With Peter’s help, Roderick barely regained consciousness, only to immediately start panicking again.
“W-witch…!”
Still sitting on the ground, Roderick scooted backward in a rather undignified manner.
“Y-you definitely got stabbed through the heart! How are you still alive?!”
“......”
Thirin had no response. She hadn’t expected that particular question.
“......It’s fine. He stabbed gently.”
“What kind of nonsense—!”
Seeing Roderick about to lose it again, Thirin quickly continued.
“That… what was the bear guy’s name again? He used some insane technique. His sword was all swish, whirl, whoosh, and stuff.”
Bjorn’s Illusion Sword. Roderick had seen it too.
“The mercenary captain might have pulled some trick. He showed us swords flying around by the dozens, so showing a fake stabbing wouldn’t be that hard, right?”
“How can you say that so casually?”
“Ah.”
Thirin was scolded by Peter beside her. Roderick glared at the priest, who was speaking so lightly.
“I saw it clearly! This woman’s heart was pierced! You must have seen it too, Priest!”
Peter just chuckled softly and said nothing more. Before Roderick could speak again, Thirin cut in first.
“We’re getting off track. That’s not what’s important.”
Her calm voice finally helped Roderick regain some grip on reality. The witch—no, Thirin—seemed to have some demand for him. A vengeful spirit probably wouldn’t need this kind of conversation.
“...W-what is important, then?”
Thirin crossed her arms.
“I heard the mercenaries left. And the subjugation payment was properly issued.”
“...That’s right.”
“So tell me. Who exactly should we thank for how cleanly everything wrapped up?”
Roderick bit his lip. Thirin’s words forcibly snapped the scattered puzzle pieces in his head into place.
The troublesome mercenary band. Those poisonous mushrooms in the village that his meager forces could never have touched. Who had dealt with them? Thirin.
She had first snapped Heres’s neck—the worst of the lot—and lit the fuse of conflict. Then she had guided that rage into the controlled framework of a duel trial, preventing the entire village from turning into a bloodbath. In the duel itself, she had crushed Heres’s remaining followers one by one, breaking the mercenaries’ momentum. And finally, her own death. That death had brought the entire commotion to a close.
Bjorn had regained his authority as leader and the band’s honor by executing the witch in front of his men. The mercenaries had gained the justification of completing their revenge and were satisfied, while simultaneously becoming so terrified of the witch’s curse that they would never set foot in this village again. The Imperial Army had received a clean result—payment issued, mercenaries withdrawn—instead of a headache-inducing report. Roderick himself would likely escape reprimand and might even be portrayed as a competent commander who had quietly resolved a difficult problem.
The village had regained peace. He had avoided responsibility. The mercenaries had left with honor and money. Everyone except the dead Heres had benefited. And the one who had designed and executed all of it was the “dead” woman standing before him.
Roderick had been nothing but a useless bystander. He felt ashamed of his title as security commander. A debt he didn’t want to acknowledge. Roderick clenched his fists tightly.
“...It is thanks to you.”
“Good.”
Thirin smiled brightly.
“Then it’s time to repay that debt, isn’t it?”
“......”
Roderick swallowed hard.
The next day, Roderick only left the outpost after the sun was high in the sky. He headed straight for the Savior Cult church. He didn’t go inside. Thirin was apparently staying there, and he couldn’t face her yet. When Peter came out, Roderick got straight to the point.
“Priest Peter. Is that woman truly not a witch?”
“My, what a grim way to start a conversation.”
“This isn’t something to joke about. Tell me honestly!”
“Well… To my eyes, she just looks like a foul-tempered young person.”
Roderick ground his teeth, but Peter only chuckled. Before Roderick could say anything else, Peter waved his hand.
“You shouldn’t be asking me this here.”
“Then where?”
“Go to the Pantheon. They might give you an answer.”
Peter’s tone made it clear he had nothing more to say. A blatant order to leave.
“......”
The Pantheon. Unlike the Savior Cult, which the Empire refused to officially recognize, the Pantheon was an official order under imperial protection. Peter was right. If he wanted to discuss witches, he should have gone to the Pantheon from the beginning.
“......”
His feet didn’t want to move. But as commander of the outpost, Roderick needed to confirm whether Thirin was a witch. When he asked the Pantheon priest, the man unleashed a torrent of curses.
“You rock-headed idiot, Roderick!”
The priest didn’t even listen to the full story.
“I told you so many times not to join the Empire if you were going to become a rock-head, but you still went and joined the most rock-headed unit in the whole rock-headed Empire, acting all high and mighty, and now you’ve become the biggest rock-head of them all!”
The priest beat Roderick with a poker as he spoke.
“If that woman had been a witch, wouldn’t I have thrown a fit long ago?!”
“B-but I clearly saw her heart get pierced…!”
“She must have received some divine blessing you don’t know about, you rock-headed fool!”
Roderick was beaten and chased out of the Pantheon. He lost count of how many times he was called a rock-head. His whole body still ached. For an old man, the priest was surprisingly vigorous. How could someone who could barely see hit with such perfect accuracy?
When the limping Roderick returned to the outpost, a subordinate was waiting.
“Commander.”
“What is it?”
“About the place where the mercenaries were stationed. We should probably clear away some of those rock piles… Commander?”
“......It’s nothing. Send some men over.”
Roderick flinched at the mere mention of the word “rock.”
“......”
He gave vague instructions to his subordinate and headed for the clearing where the duel had taken place. Shattered rocks and broken trees lay scattered everywhere. Roderick stared blankly at the debris and organized his thoughts.
The words of the two priests. First, the Savior Cult. The Empire did not officially recognize them. To be precise, the Empire and the Savior Cult simply stayed out of each other’s way. The Empire treated the Savior Cult like a cow ignoring a chicken, and the Savior Cult avoided anything that would offend the Empire. There had once been a time when the Empire suppressed them, but that was in the past. The Empire had granted the Savior Cult no official position or responsibility, and therefore bore no obligation to protect them.
Yet Priest Peter was the first to appear whenever anything big or small happened in the village. He shared bread with the poor, cleaned pus from the sick, and listened to the final words of the dying. He had taken on all the troublesome chores the Empire had abandoned. His words carried weight.
And then the Pantheon. Its priests were official representatives of imperial divine authority. That eccentric old man might have swung a poker and ranted like a madman, but his words essentially represented the Pantheon’s stance. If he said she wasn’t a witch, then she wasn’t. After all, detecting witches was one of their most important duties.
Finally, Bjorn’s sword. After the duel, Roderick had recovered the sword Bjorn discarded and examined it. It was no ordinary longsword. A faint torch emblem engraved on the hilt. It was the standard weapon of the Torch Legion and a kind of artifact that reacted to evil beings. But the sword had shown no reaction to Thirin. Bjorn’s Illusion Sword was simply a Torch Legion sword technique. Thirin truly was not a witch.
Reaching that conclusion, Roderick let out a breath without realizing it. Knowing she wasn’t a witch brought a sense of relief. Paying a debt to a living woman was far better than having his soul held hostage by a vengeful spirit.
All that remained was for Roderick to keep his promise. With a sigh, he headed back to the outpost. There was a mountain of paperwork he needed to prepare for Thirin.
Suddenly, a question occurred to him. A being protected by the Savior Cult, capable of enraging even the Pantheon, yet definitely not a witch. Just what exactly was that woman?
While Roderick was lost in profound contemplation, Thirin wasn’t thinking about any of that. In fact, she was acting rather pathetically.
“That was such a cinematic death scene. Perfect for a funeral montage.”
She was replaying the memory of her own duel inside her head on loop, giggling like an idiot the entire time.