The Girl Who Stitched Monsters

Everyone’s gaze landed on her at once.

Colin’s expression changed, and his finger tightened around the crossbow mechanism. “What do you mean?”

Isolde ignored his hostility and bent down to pick up the Holy Lamp.

The handle was cold in her hand. The light on the holy emblem slid once around her fingers, as if testing her aura.

The disguise inside her trembled in response. Mina Vale’s basic mage mark surfaced, and its fragile white light pressed against her palm, blending with the sacred nature from the unicorn’s final wish.

The Holy Lamp remained lit.

It did not reject her.

Hervin saw it, and his eyes darkened slightly. The killing intent that had been hanging over Isolde finally withdrew a little.

At the very least, this proved she was not some wicked mage.

Isolde held the lamp and shook the snow from it.

“A patrol from the monastery just died. There are also traces of Black Tower spellwork outside. At a time like this, what do the people at the gate most want to see?”

Colin sneered. “What? The murderer sticking their own head out and asking to confess?”

Isolde glanced at him. “Oh? So you’re not completely stupid.”

“You…!” Colin’s temple twitched. The crossbow snapped into place. “I should have put a bolt through your throat already.”

“Enough, Colin.” Hervin pressed a hand down on him, his eyes carrying a warning that allowed no argument.

Then he turned to Isolde, his gaze sharp. “Northlanders don’t like dancing around the point. Say it plainly.”

“The monastery definitely does not know the Black Tower is here yet,” Isolde said directly. “Since they have already laid the groundwork for us, we may as well use it. I can disguise myself as a monk and bring in a prisoner important enough to matter.”

Colin reacted first and snapped his head up.

“No. Who knows if you’ll sell us to the Holy Court the moment you get inside?”

Isolde met his gaze calmly. She even took half a step forward, exposing herself under the crossbow.

“If I truly wanted to harm you, I would not have needed to draw the patrol away just now.”

“I could have stood where I was and shouted, ‘There are witch-hunters here.’ You would already be fighting them by now.”

Colin clenched his teeth. His knuckles turned white around the crossbow. “Or maybe you only did that because you want to use us.”

“Of course that’s possible,” Isolde admitted with a nod. “But I didn’t ask all of you to go in.”

Hervin’s voice sank. “Continue.”

“I put on a monk’s robe, take the Holy Lamp, and escort one prisoner inside.” Isolde lifted a hand and pointed toward the depths of the monastery. “You lie in ambush near the corpse road and coordinate from inside and out. If we are lucky, we might find the person you are looking for.”

The older witch-hunter frowned. “How do you guarantee you won’t be exposed after you enter?”

Isolde lifted the Holy Lamp in her hand.

“I only need to look like a frightened low-ranking servant who barely escaped with her life.”

“Once people think you are beneath notice, they get lazy about checking every detail.”

Colin’s expression shifted slightly. He seemed to understand something, and the tension between his brows tightened further.

Hervin asked, “Why are you helping us?”

“Because our goal is the same. We are both here to save someone. Whether it is the same person is unclear for now, but our interests do not conflict. Once we get inside, we each take our own path and survive however we can.”

“Easy for you to say,” Colin said hoarsely. “What if you shake us off?”

Isolde swept him a cold glance. “Then you can choose to keep waiting outside.”

Colin’s face stiffened, and his lips pressed into a hard line.

“You have already been circling outside for three days, haven’t you?” Isolde added calmly. “If you had another way, you would not be standing here wasting words with a stranger whose background you don’t even know.”

After a stretch of silence, Colin suddenly slung his crossbow onto his back and stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

Several witch-hunters froze.

“Let me be the prisoner.” Colin stared hard at Isolde. “As long as I can get through the gate, I’ll find Evan myself.”

“No,” Hervin said, his voice cold and absolute.

Colin turned sharply. “Captain!”

“You are too impatient.”

“That’s my brother!”

The words were almost torn out of his chest.

Colin’s eyes were bloodshot. As he looked at Hervin, it was as if the fear he had been holding back for days finally broke loose.

“You all keep saying he might still be alive, that we’ll have a chance at night. But every extra minute we wait, he gets closer to death. If I don’t go in, what am I supposed to do? Stand here and keep listening to that cursed bell? I can’t do that!”

Hervin stepped forward, grabbed Colin by the collar, and slammed him hard against a tree.

“That is exactly why you cannot go.”

“The moment you see even half a shadow that looks like him, you will lose control. Then you won’t save anyone. You’ll drag the entire team down with you.”

Colin opened his mouth. His breathing was ragged, but for a long while, no words came out.

Isolde stood to the side, watching in silence like an outsider.

At a moment like this, one extra word would be a spark. She had no interest in standing next to the blast.

Hervin took a deep breath and turned around.

“I’ll go.”

The older witch-hunter blurted, “Hervin!”

Hervin raised a hand, cutting off every voice.

“If the Holy Court captures an ordinary witch-hunter, they may not open the gate at once. But if it is me, they will want to question me themselves.”

Hervin’s judgment was calm.

It was also dangerous.

He was willing to enter the monastery himself not only for the plan, but also to hold Colin back.

If Colin went, he might die.

If Hervin went, at least he could reduce the chance of things spiraling out of control.

Colin stared at Hervin, his voice changing. “I don’t agree.”

Hervin had his back to him. “You don’t have the authority to agree.”

“Captain!”

“That is an order.”

Colin froze where he stood. Wind swept snow between them.

Isolde watched Colin’s fingers slowly loosen from the crossbow mechanism, then tighten again.

He lowered his head. His throat moved several times before he forced out a hoarse, “Yes.”

Hervin began removing his outer cloak and weapons.

The witch-hunters moved quickly.

They stripped outer robes from the bodies of several Holy Court monks and chose the most intact one for Isolde.

Isolde put on the Holy Court monk’s outer robe, pressed her gray cloak beneath it, and used snow to wipe away the mud stains that should not have been on the sleeves.

She tied her hair lower, then finally picked up the Holy Lamp.

The light fell across her face. The face that belonged to Evelyn Hart looked even more ordinary now, and even easier to overlook.

The other witch-hunters began handling the bodies.

The older witch-hunter took out a bottle of gray powder and sprinkled it over the footprints. Once the wind blew, the traces scattered cleanly.

Colin said nothing the entire time. He only helped Hervin remove every piece of equipment from his body, his movements fast and almost vicious.

Isolde walked over with the Holy Lamp and looked Hervin up and down.

His weapons had all been taken away. His hands were bound behind his back with a witch-hunter’s rope knot.

The knot looked real. It had a hidden release, but outsiders would not be able to tell.

There was still one problem.

“Too normal.”

Isolde raised the lamp slightly. Its light shone over Hervin’s hard, cold face, making his scar look even sharper.

“You don’t look like a prisoner who was just captured.”

Hervin understood at once.

So did Colin.

The young witch-hunter’s expression grew complicated.

“Can’t we do it another way?”

Isolde did not answer. She only looked at Hervin, leaving the decision to him.

Hervin rolled his neck and forced out one word.

“Hit.”