The firelight in the fireplace flickered twice, gradually dimming, and Nightingale appeared, adding a few more pieces of firewood. The stove suddenly crackled, and the flames blazed brightly.

Roland stared at the elongated shadow of his cup and sighed deeply. Tilly had been gone for quite some time, and he kept recalling their conversation, trying to find a way to change the outcome, but ultimately found no answer—trust was a wondrous thing, and apart from investing time, other methods were of little use.

"So, there are things you can't do," Nightingale clapped the dust off her hands, walked over, and sat back in her old spot. "What exactly did you say to her that day?"

"A benevolent lie," Roland leaned back in his chair. "It's normal that she doesn't want to believe it." He paused. "You once said you had a younger brother. If he suddenly became completely different from before and insisted he was still himself, would you believe him?"

"Are you talking about that seemingly innocent guy who turned around and betrayed me?" Nightingale curled her lip. "In my opinion, he's basically no different from a mutation."

"Okay, I shouldn't have brought that up."

"It doesn't matter. I've already left the Gelan family anyway. They're all just strangers to me," she said dismissively.

"I used to be like a stranger to her," Roland sighed, "or rather, I didn't get along well with anyone in the palace."

"If you're feeling down, you can tell me about it," Nightingale smiled slightly. "I've always been curious about life in the palace and I'm also very interested in knowing just how terrible your character was back then, to have such a bad reputation spread all the way to Silverlight City."

"Honestly, I was much worse back then than I am now," Roland couldn't help but smirk, recounting a few simple events from his memories. "I guess she started to hate me from the moment I threw her into the broken glass."

"That's indeed... pretty terrible," she clicked her tongue. "But I don't think she hates you now."

"Oh?" Roland raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"Of course. Didn't she say a few things—'Privately, I would very much like to stay here and learn those interesting things'," Nightingale imitated. "It sounds like a comforting remark, but the truth is, she wasn't lying when she said it. If she truly hated you as much as she did in the past, she wouldn't want to stay here at all."

"Are you comforting me?" Roland laughed.

"If stating facts counts," she shrugged. "And I think maintaining the status quo is pretty good."

"Why?"

"She promised to give priority to the town for witches, supporting you against the demons, so what difference does it make whether she's here or not? If all the witches from Sleeping Island were to flood in at once, with a few like Ashes among them, I'd be worked to death," Nightingale threw a piece of dried fish into her mouth and mumbled. "Not everyone is as obedient as Maisie."

Roland couldn't help but laugh. "Judging from what you're saying, you seem to have caused some trouble for Ashes?"

"Ah? No, why would I?" Nightingale waved her hand. "I just occasionally keep an eye on her to prevent her from harming the Witch Union members."

"Really?"

She turned her head away and whistled.

"I don't know if it's just my imagination," Roland stared at her, "but why do I feel like you're actually quite happy after I was rejected?"

"That's just your imagination," Nightingale said definitively. Then she looked towards the door. "Hmm, someone's coming again." After saying that, she disappeared.

Was this the Golden Cicada Escapes its Shell tactic? Just as he was thinking this, a knock sounded on the office door.

Roland was greatly surprised. It was almost midnight. Who could be coming? He replaced a candle on the candlestick. "Come in."

It was Agatha who opened the door.

This made the prince slightly stunned. "Is something the matter?"

Without a word, she walked to the round stool in front of the desk and sat down. "Ms. Wendy said that whether it's the firearm that can restrain transcendents or the incredibly long-range cannon, they all originated from your ideas? And the principles and manufacturing methods for these things are all recorded in those books you wrote?"

"Are you referring to *Fundamental Theories of Natural Science* and *Elementary Chemistry*? The relevant principles are indeed on them, but as for the manufacturing methods, they're not written in detail due to space constraints," Roland said. "After all, it's just a basic theoretical textbook. Is that why you came to ask me this?"

"Only members of the Witch Union can learn this knowledge, right?" she didn't answer, but continued to ask.

Roland nodded, and he could already guess what she wanted to say.

"Then I apply to join the Witch Union," Agatha said almost without pause.

"But the Witch Union is an organization belonging to Border Town. Are you sure you want to serve the town?" he asked curiously. "Its lord is not a transcendent, but a mere mortal."

"Someone who can create weapons powerful enough to fight demons cannot be considered an 'ordinary' mortal. Even the Seekers would reserve a place for you," Agatha paused slightly. "As long as it doesn't harm witches and doesn't antagonize the survivors of the Union, I don't mind cooperating with a mortal..."

She was probably about to say that "serving a mortal" was temporarily difficult for her, but Agatha's ability to accept things had already made Roland look at her in a new light. Perhaps those who engage in research can always quickly accept new things. He held back his laughter. "I thought you would follow Tilly to Sleeping Island. It's a city built by witches."

"Just a haven for escaping the Church's pursuit," she shook her head. "I made this decision after I inquired about it with them. Besides, I saw too many cities ruled by witches before I was frozen. Now they have all been swallowed by the dust. It's meaningless without defeating the demons. I hope to see the hope of victory here."

"You will," Roland nodded. "However, not antagonizing the Union... I cannot guarantee that. It may not have disappeared, but changed its name and hidden itself."

"What?" Agatha was stunned.

"I thought carefully about what you said. Even if they failed to escape from Taquila, the Union had transcendent and a group of Holy Warriors. In this uncivilized land full of natives, it's unlikely that news would be completely cut off unless they wanted to do so themselves," Roland said deeply. "It is very likely that the Church is the embodiment of the Union—it was not mortals who took power and the methods of creating the God's Punishment Army from the witches, but the witches themselves who turned the Union into an organization for hunting witches. That way, it would be easier for them to manufacture a large number of God's Punishment Army."

"Are you saying... that the current tragic situation of witches being oppressed and hunted is all the work of the Union?" she said in disbelief.

"I can't be sure. It's just a guess," Roland stood up, walked to the cabinet, and handed her a few thick black-covered books. "These contain the chronicles written by the Church itself, as well as the histories of the Four Kingdoms recorded by astrologers. You can refer to them. In any case, the Church is now our enemy and something we must eliminate in the future."

"If you decide to stand on the side of the witches and fight against the demons with me, the Witch Union welcomes you to join."