She Who Became Immortal

(( Time before the imminent war with demons. ))

Following Leopold Illyrius's instructions, Mizetta was headed towards the Illyrius territory. She didn't know what she was supposed to do once there, but she knew she didn't have the option to refuse.

The same went for her fianee, Eckhart. On one hand, the second son of a count; on the other, the head of a ducal household. Mizetta thought he was a Count, but rather a duke, as he claimed, though the details remained a mystery to her.

Moreover, Eckhart—or rather, the Muller family—was being exploited. Illyrius knew the details of Euphemia Grimwood's execution by fire. With that knowledge, Illyrius intended to use Eckhart.

His 'utilization' is a bit different from the normal sense. It's true that he gains advantages by using others for his benefit, but... he also seeks to give benefits to those he uses. Because ultimately, it benefits him.

So it's not just about being used.

Lord Leopold is proposing something for your benefit as well.

Eckhart tried to reassure Mizetta by saying such things before she departed for the Illyrius territory. There probably wasn't a lie in there, and it seemed there was concern for Mizetta. However, he was clumsy.

There was no use in telling a girl to be reassured like that, and anyway, Mizetta didn't have the concept of "teaching" things to nobles, so she could only nod.

The carriage prepared by the Illyrius family, two knights arranged by the Muller family, two maids, and knights and soldiers seemingly arranged by the Illyrius family.

It was like a princess's entourage—or more like transporting a serious criminal.

The journey under such tight security went smoothly, without much conversation, and was remarkably uneventful.

Mizetta would have been better off silently sitting in the carriage, and it seemed like anything else would not be tolerated. So, frankly, it was very boring, but there was no one to complain to about it.

"Make a name for yourself," Leopold said.

But Mizetta didn't know what that would entail.

---

Upon arriving at the Illyrius territory, Mizetta was first escorted to what seemed to be a villa owned by Leopold.

Although it was a villa, it belonged to the ducal family, further asserting his claim of peerage and while it might have been somewhat inferior to Eckhart's ancestral home, if one were to judge purely by appearance, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a "castle."

Assigned a room, accompanied by the mansion's servants, the maids from the Muller household learned their ways, and Mizetta was once again left alone. She wasn't told to do anything, nor was she told not to do anything.

---

She remained silent in her room for about three days.

On the fourth day, the strange twins appeared.

They had eerily identical faces, these siblings.

The elder was named Laura Gillette, and the younger was named Toreno Gillette.

"Are you the replacement for Euphemia Grimwood?"

"Did you make Eckhart discard the 'talentless Euphemia'?"

"Indeed you did, you are—"

"—the 'Saint of Healing,'" Mizetta abruptly cut off the twin boy and replied.

"Yes, that was the name."

That's not the name at all. Mizetta thought so, but since it seemed unlikely that these twins would listen to someone else's words, she remained silent.

Indeed, Mizetta felt that there was no real conversation with them.

"Um... who are you?"

Even to such a natural question, the twins didn't give a proper answer.

"We are Gillette."

"Also known as the 'Twin Gillette.'" "Also known as the 'Prodigious Gillette.'"

"We came to test you today." "We weren't really interested."

"But it's our job." "It is our duty."

"Well then, come this way." "Please, this way."

Their chanting-like way of speaking was headache-inducing.

But if it was work, Mizetta was in the same boat. Since she was swept away without being able to refuse, she couldn't go against the flow. She had no choice but to go with the flow as much as possible.

Guided by the twins, Mizetta was taken to the basement of the mansion.

With her limited imagination, Mizetta could guess what might be in the basement of a castle-like place. Unfortunately, her hope to be wrong wasn't fulfilled. There was a dungeon straight out of a painting, and there was one man imprisoned there.

He seemed to be around adulthood. He didn't look worn out for a prisoner; rather, he seemed unusually healthy. Apart from shackles on both wrists, there were no apparent restraints. He simply raised an eyebrow lightly at the appearance of the three of them—yes, there were no guards—then remained silent.

"Hello, you seem well."

"Above all, yes."

"He's a man accused of a certain crime."

"There's a good chance it's a false accusation."

"Or rather, it's probably false."

"But there's no perpetrator."

"And once caught..."

"Would the nobles simply release him, admitting it was a mistake?"

"They wouldn't. Unthinkable."

"So we made a deal with him."

"Yes, we asked him for a favor."

"To assist in an experiment just once."

"That's his job."

"That's your job."

---

It became difficult to discern the speakers halfway through, but Mizetta realized toward the end that it didn't matter. They spoke in unison, so there was no need to differentiate.

More importantly, what she had to consider was—

The nature of the task.

The prisoner, still in handcuffs, stood up silently and walked to the front of the cage. Without acknowledging Mizetta, he stared at the Gillette siblings but remained silent.

Both twins wore identical expressions.

A smirk, as if countless beetles were crawling up their spines, sent shivers down one's spine.

The younger brother moved. Producing a key from somewhere, he opened the cage and gestured for Laura and Mizetta to enter, inviting himself as well. The prisoner watched silently. The twins' smiles remained unchanged, but the feeling of dread intensified.

"Alright."

With that, the elder sister spoke.

"Alright."

The younger brother echoed.

In the next instant—something indiscernible glimmered.

That's what Mizetta thought, just as a strange, wet sound echoed. It was the sound of something moist falling from a certain position. Following shortly after, there was the heavy metallic clank of something falling. Understanding dawned a moment later.

What fell was a wrist.

From the prisoner's wrist, to be precise. And the metal shackles that had bound his hands.

They had been severed by magic. His hands.

As she pondered this, a gush of blood flowed, staining the floor red. The prisoner endured for about two breaths' worth of time before collapsing.

"Hey hey hey! What are you doing, Miss Mizetta!"

"There's an injured person right in front of you, 'Saint of Healing'!"

"Why aren't you helping?"

"Why aren't you healing?"

"Good grief, what a predicament."

"Good grief, indeed."

Something was amiss.

Ignoring the twins' words, Mizetta rushed to the fallen prisoner. First, she picked up the severed wrist—feeling the unsettling sensation of holding a unnaturally limp human hand—and crudely joined the severed ends together.

"E... aggh... ugh...!"

Despite the massive bleeding, the prisoner didn't lose consciousness and endured with clenched teeth. Rather than being surprised, Mizetta focused on using magic.

There was an injured person to heal.

That was her duty.

And because she could do it, she had been brought here.

"I'll heal you! It might hurt, but try not to move too much!"

She said, pressing the severed wrist against the arm. It was definitely painful, but necessary for proper reattachment.

For wounds, use magic suitable for wounds.

Mizetta concentrated, summoning magic, while the twins muttered in the background, unheard by her.

The wrist reattached, the bleeding stopped, returning to its original state.

"Well, that's alright." "Well, indeed."

The twins muttered disinterestedly.

But Mizetta didn't have the luxury to get angry.

Where had I been swept away to—

She pondered that, and then this:

Where would I be swept away to next?

A drop of tear streaks down her left cheek, unbeknownst to the giggling twins behind her.