Why are you only hitting me?
Captain Hagrid pointed too!
Even the blond tuft on your own head is pointing at you!
Ethan muttered furiously in his heart.
The burly man was named Hagrid.
When he was young, his dream had been to become a glorious knight, join the royal army, and contribute to the empire.
In the end, he didn't even make it past the interview.
So he returned to Creekwood Town with a sword on his back and became a guard while he was still strong enough to swing it.
That was what Hagrid told people when he got drunk.
The guard squad under his command, a dozen men strong, formed the town's defensive force—and also served as Baron Gladwin's private armed men.
Not long after Ethan first arrived in Creekwood, he'd built a relationship with this local strongman. Over time, he learned Hagrid was straightforward to the bone—he spoke plainly and acted plainly, with no real malice. As long as you invited him out for drinks a few times on his days off, he'd treat you like a brother.
Ivy dragged Hagrid aside and began gesturing animatedly.
"Necromancy Scroll. A simple form of spirit mediumship. High-tier necromancers in the capital inscribe their spells into scrolls. If you follow the steps, even ordinary people can produce the effect."
Hagrid looked half-confused, half-pretending not to be. Ivy, seeing his "understanding," immediately began explaining the scroll-making process in detail—
Which only made Hagrid's expression even more bewildered.
He looked like he was sitting on needles.
Ivy's earnest lecture made him feel too guilty to admit he hadn't understood a single word.
So he turned pleading eyes toward Ethan.
Ethan seized the gap and summarized, "In simple terms, Sheriff Ivy and I were investigating that man's cause of death."
In truth, Ivy's academic rant had also revealed something else.
Her family background was absolutely not ordinary.
Scrollcraft wasn't common in the empire. Ethan had heard hunters at the guild mention that a functional spell scroll could sell for two gold lions—a price almost equivalent to months of a hunter's earnings.
Yet when Ivy had slapped the scroll onto the dead man's forehead, she hadn't even blinked.
Rich girl.
Now Hagrid understood. "So what did you find?"
Ivy said, "He came from Riverside Town. He died under a witchcraft curse—likely from Riverside's water source. His organs were completely melted. That's the cause of death."
"Riverside Town—!"
Hagrid's face changed instantly. He gritted his teeth. "The baron wants to see Miss Ivy. Now."
"If the baron is calling, then I'll—"
"You're coming too."
Ivy clamped a hand down on Ethan's shoulder. "You're the town's occult expert. We need your opinion."
Ethan let out a long, doomed sigh.
He could only gesture for Miss Chloe—peeking out from behind the cabinet—to wait here.
…
Baron Gladwin had an estate north of Creekwood Town.
The manor was full of maids in black-and-white uniforms. As Ethan passed, they bent respectfully at the waist in greeting.
Two years after coming to this world, Ethan experienced the feeling of being surrounded by maids for the first time.
Baron Gladwin was already waiting in the main hall. He wore a proper tailcoat, no different from how he looked giving speeches in the town square.
He seemed thin, with a neat mustache—exactly what Ethan expected from a noble.
When the group entered, the baron—who had been pacing—finally let out a breath of relief.
Then he frowned at Ethan, who trailed at the back.
"And this is…?"
Before Ivy could speak, Hagrid stepped forward. "This is Ethan, the guild clerk. He knows a lot about the occult. He's my good friend—he can help."
The baron nodded. "A traveling merchant returned to town this morning. He brought news from Riverside Town."
Only then did Ethan notice there was another person in the room besides the baron.
Mostly because the merchant's position was… incredible. He'd curled into a ball, arms wrapped over his head, trying to hide behind the sofa. He looked profoundly traumatized, trembling nonstop.
Ethan could tell the merchant was doing his best to turn into an inconspicuous mushroom.
"They're dead… dead… all dead…"
Up close, Ethan could hear the merchant muttering to himself.
The baron frowned and explained, "When the merchant went to Riverside Town to restock, he found everyone there dead."
Ethan's heart sank.
When Ivy used the necromancy scroll, the corpse had also muttered "everyone's dead," but Ethan had assumed that meant the man's companions—caravans getting wiped out on the road wasn't rare in borderlands.
But an entire town wiped out…
That scared him half to death.
He remembered the red moon that night.
So it wasn't nature's fury at his endless Fireballs after all—
It was just someone in the next town over performing a large-scale sacrifice rite.
"Last time you went to Riverside Town—when?" Ivy asked, expression unchanged, voice calm.
"T-Two days ago…"
Ivy's fingers rested lightly on the merchant's shoulder. "Someone slaughtered everyone in Riverside in two days. The bodies had no wounds, but there was blood everywhere."
The merchant jerked his head up, staring at her in disbelief. "H-How do you know?"
Ivy stated her conclusion. "They died from a curse-kill. The town's water source was tampered with. Everyone who drank it was cursed. That's why they all died within two days."
It was a vicious spell—one that had been meant from the very start to exterminate everyone.
"Hagrid," Ivy ordered, "you will investigate Creekwood's water source immediately."
"But… how do we tell?" Hagrid looked like an ant on a hot pan. He knew he should do something, but he had no idea how.
How was he supposed to know whether Creekwood's water had been cursed?
Taste it himself?
If he died like Riverside's residents, then—congratulations, the water was cursed?
"Take this."
Ivy tossed him a palm-sized diamond-shaped crystal. "If it glows, the water is compromised."
"You heard Miss Ivy!" the baron barked. "Do as she says—immediately!"
The guards surged out of the manor in force.
Only after they left did the baron—face pale—stagger back to the sofa and collapse into it. He adjusted his breathing, trying to look dignified, and only after a few minutes did he speak again.
"The curse you mentioned… you mean witchcraft? Like a witch?"
"I wasn't specifically referring to witches," Ivy said.
Her sharp gaze pinned Baron Gladwin. From his abnormal reaction, she sensed something.
"But you seem convinced it's a witch. Why?"
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