Chapter 3: Funis
Witch? Little sister? Funis?
Chescia’s string of words made Sera’s small brain freeze on the spot. She tried to push Chescia away, but all she got in return was the crisp clinking of chains. Her hands were still shackled.
She had come to loathe and hate witches because she witnessed her family brutally slaughtered—And now she was being told she had become a witch. That she was to be the “younger sister” of her mortal enemy. That she even had a new name picked out.
What a joke!
She had to protest—loudly and clearly!
“What… what do you mean? H-Hurry up and turn me back…”
Her weak voice trembled with sobs.
This time, the tears truly came. Just like a child who couldn’t control her tear glands, Sera squirmed with effort, her movements not so different from a tantrum.
The transformation ran deep.
Sera realized that not only her body had been altered—her habits, her tone, even her thought patterns had started to change invisibly. She was gradually thinking like a young girl. The soul of the once-strong man named Sera was quietly fading away.
If even she had become a witch—How could she still take revenge on witches for her family?
Faced with Sera’s questioning and demands, the smile faded from Chescia’s face. An icy coldness crept over her expression like frost.
Though she said nothing, that killing aura honed in oceans of blood radiated from her gaze.
The very temperature around her seemed to drop. Sera trembled under the Blood-Eyed Witch’s stare, curling her head down like a frightened squirrel.
“I-I’m sorry… I…”
But she shouldn't be apologizing.
That was her enemy.
That was the person who did this to her.
Why was she apologizing to her?
She had made her this way—The voices trying to remind her of that surfaced for a moment in her mind, only to sink quickly into oblivion.
The immaturity of her new girlish psyche had taken control under fear’s influence.
A helpless sense of injustice flooded her heart. She was unwilling—but powerless.
The tears rolling down her cheeks burned hotter than fire.
But slender fingertips, cold as silk, silently wiped them away. Chescia gently brushed away the tears at the corner of her eye, quietly waiting for the girl in her arms to calm her sobs.
“Your original body is already dead. This was the only way to keep you alive.” Once Sera’s breathing had steadied, Chescia softly revealed the truth.
Rather than “the only way,” it would be more accurate to say Chescia had made it the only way.
She had killed Sera’s original male body with her own hands.
Maybe Chescia’s goal was never the forbidden page at all.
Her appearance before Sera had only ever been for this:
To defeat him.
To kill him.
To turn him into a witch.
To make an Enforcer who hunted witches experience utter humiliation.
A fire of rage suddenly ignited in her chest—A certain impulse burst forth from deep inside—And erupted.
“Aah-mph!”
The girl bit down fiercely on the very finger that had wiped away her tears.
A neat row of pearly baby teeth pressed through the lace glove, leaving a clear mark on the witch’s icy skin.
Chescia looked at Sera, confused.
That look—like she was humoring a child—wounded Sera’s pride even more.
“I… I’ll— I’ll kill you one day!” Baring her teeth, the girl cried out fiercely, though her voice was muffled and unclear.
There was a pause.
The room fell into brief silence.
“Hmph.”
A cold laugh.
Yet to Sera, that laugh didn’t sound mocking at all.
Instead, Chescia’s twisted grin bloomed with a manic delight. Her wine-red eyes deepened like thick syrup.
She cupped Sera’s face, and suddenly shoved the bitten finger into the girl’s small, cherry-sized mouth.
“Guh—!”
Sera couldn’t breathe. She let out a pained, muffled wail.
The witch gripped her chin, forcing her to meet her gaze.
Those blood-red eyes—sharp as blades—stabbed right into Sera’s soul, sending chills through her heart.
“Look at you! You’re perfect! Absolutely wonderful!” The witch let out a hoarse, low laugh.
“Even though you’ve become such a helpless, adorable little thing, you’ve still kept that stubborn streak!
I can wait. Ten years, twenty, thirty—I can wait as long as it takes, until the day you’re strong enough to kill me!”
Her eyes teased her, watching the girl squirm in her arms.
She leaned even closer.
“I’ll be waiting for that day,” she whispered.
The tenderness in her voice was so genuine that Sera almost believed this woman really looked forward to it.
That coldness, that gentleness—They had all vanished from Chescia’s face. She was a completely different person now.
At that moment, only madness could describe her.
But it lasted only a moment.
When Sera’s face flushed from oxygen deprivation, when she truly couldn’t take it anymore—Chescia let go.
She removed the saliva-soaked glove. Grace and indifference returned to her features, as if that wild woman from seconds ago had never existed.
Coughing.
Gasping.
The girl, who had gone without breath for too long, now painted like a fish, just returned to water after ages.
Chescia quietly watched Sera.
And then—An unexpected softness appeared in that frostbitten face.
Or rather—A flicker of guilt.
“Provoking me won’t end well for you. I—”
Her tone was weary, the witch hesitating. But in the end, she didn’t finish. She fell silent.
Then she bent down and reached into the rose bushes beside the bed—pulling out an old yellowed parchment page. Indecipherable forbidden script and wild diagrams sprawled across it.
“If you accept your new body, your new name, your new identity—and submit to my training—then maybe, one day, I’ll return this page to you.”
Sera’s gaze instantly cleared.
That was it.
One of the fourteen pages of the Witch Codex spoken of in rumors.
The very one Sera had risked her life to recover. And the exact reason she encountered Chescia on her way back from the heretic ritual.
Everything—all her suffering—had started because of that parchment.
It was all its fault!
But after losing her family, Sera had been raised by the Church and the Temperance Court.
She had always respected the Pope, regarded the director of the Court as a father.
Serving the Church wasn’t just her duty as an Enforcer—it was her personal honor.
Even now, in enemy territory, even having lost her “little brother”—The moment she saw that page, her first instinct as a loyal Kabbalah follower was to bring it back to the Church.
Even if the Church wouldn’t accept her now that she’d become a witch—At least… Charlotte might earn that honor.
But the problem was—“U-Um… ‘training’… what does that mean?”
Out of caution, Sera had no choice but to nervously ask about the suspicious word.
Upon hearing the question, Chescia leaned in closer—Then tossed the precious page of the Codex behind her without a second thought.
“Exactly what it sounds like.” She smiled with genuine delight.
“Exactly what it sounds like?”
“Haven’t you noticed? Your body’s gotten a little… special.”
The witch’s question left Sera even more confused.
She simply stared blankly as Chescia drew near.
“For example—” Chescia’s slender fingers lightly trailed over her chest. Her hand slid downward, slow and smooth, from her belly to her inner thigh.
“Certain places…”
“Eeek!”
The moment her thigh was touched, Sera flinched violently.
Her whole nervous system went haywire. A wave of ticklish sparks shot up her spine.
“Looks like you’re even more sensitive than I expected~ Well, once you’ve had your bath, we’ll continue.” Chescia nodded, clearly pleased.
“But before that—I still need to hear what I’m supposed to hear.”
“...Hm?”
Sera was still lost in the haze of that last touch, dazed and bewildered.
The witch’s voice whispered again beside her ear:
“Maybe I should go fetch that runaway little blonde girl too? Would that help you make your decision faster?”
“No—no, please don’t…” Sera panicked.
The chain pulled taut. But she couldn’t break free. All she could do was beg the witch with her eyes.
“Leave Charlotte alone… I’ll do anything…”
Chescia watched the girl beg on behalf of another, Frowning. She let out a cold, disdainful snort.
“Then let’s start with your name.
Tell me—what’s your name now?”
Sera sensed that Chescia was a little angrier than before when she said this. She seemed deeply displeased.
But Charlotte was Sera’s final line.
If she lost even her—She didn’t dare finish the thought.
She nodded slightly.
“Or… would you prefer to be called ‘Witch Sera Fred’ instead?”
The witch’s coaxing voice stretched long and sweet—But sharper than any blade, like an arrow piercing an invisible target.
The girl bit her lip. She lowered her head.
“My name is… Funis.”
The chain slackened.
The sound of lightly bitten lips was barely audible.
“Witch Funis.”