"Samael, Samael, what do you think of this one?"
"Show some respect. You're supposed to call me Professor!"
"I know, I know. You're so annoying. Just look already!"
"Hmm. This design is simple and fitted. Judging from the patterns and overall style, it seems inspired by Roman combat boots. It should pair well with riding pants, short skirts, jackets, and other sharp, practical outfits. But the toe looks a little too blunt, which makes it feel bulky. Why not narrow it slightly?"
"Good idea! What about this one?"
"Lots of curves, smooth finish. The material you picked is... lambskin? Elegant without being flashy, and it has a nice sense of movement. Not bad. What did you call it?"
"Mm-hmm! I named this one Black Butterfly!"
Early that morning, lively chatter drifted from the pavilion. One large figure and one small figure sat around a stone table, engaged in an animated discussion over a pile of paper sketches.
They were so absorbed that neither of them even noticed Morgan approaching.
The Witch picked up several discarded sheets scattered around the stone table, smoothed them out, and examined them closely. She immediately recognized them as designs for different kinds of shoes.
High heels, animal hide, decorative patterns, curved contours, glossy finishes, and other novel concepts gave the designs an aesthetic far ahead of their time.
Catching sight of Morgan from the corner of her eye, Baobhan Sith immediately jumped down from her chair. Out of habit, she grabbed Samael's arm and excitedly pulled him along as she trotted toward Morgan.
The Witch stopped and lowered her gaze to their tightly linked hands, momentarily stunned.
When did those two become so close?
It had only been one night...
"Mother..."
Baobhan Sith stopped in front of Morgan, lifted the hem of her skirt, and performed an awkward courtly curtsy. Holding the stiff pose, she deliberately revealed the striking red shoes beneath, her little head tilted proudly upward as she showed them off.
"Mm. They're very pretty, and they suit you well..."
Morgan raised a hand and gently stroked Baobhan Sith's head, speaking in a warm voice.
"Aren't they great? That Samael guy..."
"Hmm?"
The meaningful hum beside her instantly triggered the lingering fear buried in the little Witch's mind.
Baobhan Sith shuddered. The soles of her feet seemed to start itching all over again, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her.
"P-Professor Samael... gave them to me... I really like them..."
Baobhan Sith hurriedly corrected herself, secretly glancing toward Samael from the corner of her eye.
Only after confirming that the demon's expression remained unchanged did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.
They had made an agreement.
In private, she could address him more casually, but in formal situations, she had to show the proper respect.
Otherwise...
She could imagine the consequences herself.
Samael then turned toward Morgan and suggested with a smile,
"Shoes alone feel a little plain. Why don't you give her a matching dress? We can treat it as a gift from both of us to celebrate Baobhan Sith joining us."
For a moment, Morgan's thoughts returned to that bloody night in the ruined village.
She could still see the little girl in the darkness, clutching the shredded remains of her red dress and crying helplessly.
A moment later, the sorrowful image shattered and faded.
Returning to the present, the Witch nodded solemnly.
The past would remain in the past.
It was time to welcome a new beginning.
Seeing Morgan agree, Baobhan Sith's joy was impossible to hide.
For some reason, her heart felt incredibly light, as though some powerful obsession buried deep inside her was finally about to be fulfilled.
Without realizing it, the fairy girl developed a strange yet intense thought toward a certain unscrupulous Professor.
Professor Samael is such a good person!
Then a finger poked her in the lower back, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Baobhan Sith immediately gathered her courage, raised one of the sketches, and nervously showed it to Morgan.
"Mother, can I make a pair of shoes for you too?"
The naturally reserved Witch was about to decline, hoping Baobhan Sith would devote more energy toward strengthening herself and learning how to protect herself.
But then she noticed someone across from her repeatedly making pointed expressions.
After a brief hesitation, Morgan slowly nodded.
"Mm. If that's what you want."
"That won't do! They're going to be a gift designed specifically for you, Mother. Of course they have to suit your tastes and what you want!"
Unexpectedly, the moment the subject turned to shoes, Baobhan Sith became extraordinarily enthusiastic, as well as unusually serious and focused.
Holding the sketches high, she and her partner began explaining the meaning behind each style and the corresponding design concepts to Morgan.
Seeing how seriously Baobhan Sith was taking this, combined with the repeated signals Samael was sending her from across the table, Morgan had no choice but to patiently join the discussion.
In the end, she selected a design incorporating the concept of a glass slipper.
Once the decision was made, Baobhan Sith's gray eyes shone with unprecedented brilliance.
She immediately tucked the design safely against herself as though cradling a treasure, confidently promised when she would have it finished, then fluttered away like a delighted butterfly.
She soon disappeared into the guest room to show off her shoes and outfit to little Freya.
Morgan watched the fairy girl disappear into the distance.
After a long silence, she turned toward Samael beside her and quietly asked,
"How... did you do it?"
Samael readily explained everything, describing how he had "trained" Baobhan Sith.
The method itself had actually been simple.
First, use force to break through the shell she had built around herself for protection.
Then, once she was vulnerable and helpless, give her something to rely on and rescue her from that situation.
That was how Samael had managed to establish trust with Baobhan Sith in only a few hours.
Afterward came the tried-and-true carrot-and-stick approach, gradually instilling certain ideas and behavioral rules while placing limits on what she could do.
Of course, Samael had no need, nor any interest, in turning Baobhan Sith into some exemplary model fairy.
But the belief that "only when tormenting the weak could she earn praise from Morgan, her 'mother,' and therefore learn that this was something enjoyable" was far too twisted.
What Samael needed to do was establish an entirely new system of rewards and punishments for her.
He wanted Baobhan Sith to understand that tormenting the weak and causing trouble everywhere were not the only ways to please Morgan and earn her approval.
There were plenty of things she could do that would both satisfy herself and earn recognition.
There was no reason for her to obsess over causing trouble until she twisted herself into something like that.
Samael thought back to the girl whose eyes had lit up the instant she heard what their lesson would involve, then spent the entire night enthusiastically working on her designs.
He rubbed his slightly aching temples and shook his head helplessly.
"She really seems to love shoes. She has a strong interest in collecting and creating fashionable things like these. So our first lesson last night was designing a pair of shoes for you. She studied seriously and put a lot of effort into it... You're not going to blame me for that, are you?"
"You're a good father..."
Morgan remained silent for a long time.
Remembering the various meaningful little gestures Samael had made earlier, she looked deeply at the man before her and spoke with genuine emotion.
But for some reason, the Witch said nothing more.
Her mood seemed to sink into a strange mixture of melancholy and regret.
Sensing that Morgan had been reminded of something painful, Samael tactfully chose not to pry.
Instead, he went to prepare breakfast and finish the last of their preparations before departure.
Incidentally, breakfast consisted of charcoal-grilled lamb chops.
For some reason, the meat carried a particularly rich honey aroma, and everyone ate to their heart's content.
Baobhan Sith enjoyed them most of all.
Although the vicious way she tore into the lamb chops suggested she held some deeply rooted grudge against them, along with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at finally getting revenge.
As the chef, Samael silently made the sign of the cross over his chest, offered his condolences to the departed souls, and recited a quiet prayer in his heart.
Mm.
Delicious!