Under Alhaitham's command, the thieves had taken their own lives.
This was the curse that C.C. had planted on him long ago—the power of the king known as Geass.
A power that could twist the will of others.
A power that could dominate the minds of all.
A power that made absolute obedience an undeniable truth.
"What a convenient yet terrifying ability,"
C.C. mused, watching the lifeless bodies slump to the ground. A smirk played on her lips.
"I'm truly glad I didn't let you go. If a power like this were allowed to spread unchecked, the world would have long descended into chaos."
Alhaitham touched his left eye, where the mark of the Geass still lingered, before casting a sharp glance at the green-haired witch. She merely flicked her hair back, golden eyes filled with amusement.
"Don't worry," she said smoothly. "I'll stay by your side, as we agreed. After all, we have a contract. I won't leave until you fulfill my wish."
Alhaitham scoffed, crossing his arms.
"Hmph. Just wait, witch."
It was the price of wielding Geass—he was bound to the contract he had made with C.C. Until he granted her desire, she would remain by his side. However, should she ever determine that his wish was impossible to fulfill, she would abandon him without hesitation.
But that was not something he intended to let happen.
"Forget it. For now, your presence is useful,"
Alhaitham remarked. His golden eyes swept over the carnage, lingering on the stolen goods piled up in the bandits' carriages. "These thieves have gathered quite a haul. I can't take everything myself."
C.C. raised an eyebrow.
"Huh? Are you actually thinking of taking their loot?"
Her question carried a teasing lilt, but when she saw Alhaitham already climbing onto one of the carriages, rifling through its contents, she thought he might actually keep the treasure for himself.
After all, in her memory, he was quite extravagant in his spending.
But instead of satisfaction, the Black Prince only looked irritated.
"Idiot. Do you think this prince would stoop so low?"
He rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"I wouldn't dirty myself with their ill-gotten gains. Even if you handed this to me on a silver platter, I'd throw it away."
C.C. tilted her head. "Then what do you plan to do with it?"
"You can deal with it however you want," Alhaitham said indifferently. "Just toss it to some orphanage or something."
His tone was casual, as if he had done this countless times before.
C.C. was momentarily silent. Then she sighed.
"Alright, I take back what I said earlier. You really will be a tyrant with a code of honor, won't you?"
Most criminals would hoard their stolen riches, spending lavishly on their own pleasures. But Alhaitham had no interest in tainted wealth. If there was anything of value among the spoils, it was fine art—those, he didn't mind keeping.
And occasionally, he found something else.
"Huh? A cage?"
Alhaitham's sharp gaze landed on a metal cage hidden beneath a thick cloth.
Painful groans seeped through the fabric. His golden eyes narrowed.
Slavery was common in this world, but if there was a person inside, he figured he would simply free them and move on.
Without hesitation, he yanked away the covering—
And paused.
"…Well, this is unexpected."
His expression flickered with rare surprise.
Inside the cage was not a slave, nor a person at all.
Instead, a twisted, rotting mass of flesh writhed in agony. It barely retained the shape of a human—if one could even call it that anymore.
Dark, corrupted magic pulsed through its deformed body, leaking in intermittent bursts.
A scene exactly like those described in forbidden texts.
Alhaitham's lips curled upward.
"So this is [Devil's Possession]. How interesting."
He crouched down, reaching out to the grotesque figure with surprising gentleness.
"What a fateful encounter. Don't worry. I'll save you."
C.C.'s expression darkened.
"Alhaitham, what do you think you're doing?"
"Didn't I just say?" He glanced at her. "I've decided to save her. A hero's child shouldn't be left like this, should they?"
C.C. frowned.
"…Are you serious?"
The witch folded her arms.
Throughout history, many had attempted to save those afflicted by Devil's Possession, but every single one had failed. Even the most powerful healing spells could not undo the corruption.
"You do realize that this has never been cured before?" she reminded him.
Alhaitham smirked.
"Just because others failed doesn't mean I will."
C.C. let out a low chuckle.
"You're as arrogant as ever." She shook her head. "Fine, then. I'll watch. Let's see if you can actually pull off a miracle."
Alhaitham's golden eyes gleamed.
"Hmph. Miracles? They're just this prince's love for drama."
C.C. shrugged. No matter how long she had known him, his unwavering confidence never ceased to amuse her.
Meanwhile, within the cage, the grotesque figure stirred.
Its body may have been mutilated, but its eyes remained untouched—clear, filled with suffering.
And at this moment, for the first time in what seemed like eternity…
There was hope.
As if pleading—
[Please… save me.]
---
A Week Later
"Phew—finally done."
Alhaitham exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair.
For the past week, he had tirelessly experimented, working through countless methods. And at last, he had successfully suppressed the rampaging magic, restoring the afflicted to their original form.
Honestly…
"No wonder no one has been able to cure this before. The medical knowledge in this world is embarrassingly primitive."
Healing magic was absurdly oversimplified here.
Got a cold? Use healing magic.
Wounded? Healing magic.
Lost an arm? Healing magic.
It was utterly ridiculous.
No one bothered with medical science when magic could patch things up. But healing magic wasn't omnipotent. It only treated surface-level injuries—it didn't cure disease, remove corruption, or regenerate lost limbs properly.
No wonder the mortality rate was so high.
Alhaitham sighed, rubbing his temples.
"This world's healthcare system is nonsense. Ugh… Pursuing scientific reasoning in a world of swords and sorcery feels so pointless."
But before he could continue his internal complaints—
Something unexpected happened.
The once-rotten, grotesque mass of flesh inside the cage had transformed.
And what emerged was not a monster, nor a mangled corpse—
But a stunning elf girl.
Her delicate frame lay curled on the ground, her long silver hair cascading like silk over her shoulders. Her ears—sharp and pointed—marked her as one of the rare elven race.
She opened her eyes, revealing a mesmerizing shade of amethyst.
For a moment, she looked dazed.
Then, those violet eyes filled with realization—
And gratitude.