Morning had arrived, and Hezhna, upon hearing a knock at the door, found a deathly Lich standing before her. She wore only a thin nightgown, but she felt no shame, knowing that the Lich before her was devoid of emotions.

["His Majesty has summoned all of you to gather in the castle's reception hall."]

Hezhna stared at the Lich in confusion. The reception hall? Why? There was a dead man ruling this castle—she couldn't comprehend the reason.

"Just me?"

The Lich, hearing this, allowed her to step outside and see that every identical house had a Lich standing before it, speaking to its occupant.

"So, everyone…"

An hour later, all the living witches were seated in the reception hall around a massive, dark table. After a brief wait, Hazard appeared, clad in his usual dark robe, and took his seat at the head of the table—his chair noticeably different from the others. Resting his hands under his chin, he spoke.

"You all worked well yesterday. Since it was your first day under my rule, I wasn't prepared to properly care for you."

Hearing this, Hezhna felt relieved. At least this implied that the Demon King didn't intend to treat them like unpaid laborers. However, doubts lingered—what kind of food could a dead man possibly provide? She was aware of creatures that mimicked the living and roamed around, but she also knew they were undoubtedly monsters. Keeping her skepticism in check, she patiently watched Hazard until she heard the sound of footsteps.

Humanoid women, dressed in white yet modest clothing, entered the hall, carrying silver trays. They began setting the plates down on the table, though their inexperience was evident, as it took them some time to finish.

It was the first time Hezhna had seen them up close. The sheer power radiating from each of them made her spine tingle so intensely that she couldn't stop sweating and trembling. This reaction was the same for all the witches. They were in complete shock at the overwhelming strength of the Demon King sitting before them. If just one more level of heroism were added to this power, it could successfully defend its realm against both the Darkness and the Empire.

Yet, their doubts and fears were quickly replaced by hunger as the scent of an unfamiliar yet tantalizing aroma filled their nostrils.

The table was adorned with an array of exotic dishes—French, Mexican, German, Indian, Chinese, and even Persian cuisine. The witches stared at the food in astonishment. Silver goblets filled with red wine sat beside their plates. The moment they drank, their cheeks flushed red with warmth.

Hazard observed as they ate with refined manners like nobles. Tapping a finger on the table, he said,

"Relax. Pretend you're alone. Help yourselves. There's no need for formalities when it's just us."

Hezhna had restrained herself until now, eating with the elegant etiquette she had been taught. She savored the food, its exquisite flavors unlike anything she had ever tasted before. Tears welled in her eyes.

However, upon hearing Hazard's words, the rest of the witches abandoned all manners, grabbing food with their hands like drunken tavern-goers. They drank wine straight from the bottles instead of pouring it into their goblets. Rather than feeling pleased, Hezhna found herself embarrassed by their behavior.

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An hour passed. She had finished her meal and looked around at her sisters, now completely intoxicated—some passed out on the floor, others slumped over the table or in their chairs.

Curious, Hezhna turned her gaze to Hazard.

"May I ask where you got such food?"

Hazard could only smile—if he had the ability to. Instead, resting his hands under his chin, he answered,

"That's a secret."

Hearing this, Hezhna simply nodded. The taste was phenomenal. Based on her sense of taste, the meat wasn't human. She was also certain that there was no poison or harmful substance in the food, as she and her sisters had signed a contract making Hazard their official master. And a master wouldn't harm their own property—at least, not if they were sane.

Hazard couldn't answer her truthfully, as he himself was puzzled. When he had purchased the ingredients from the Demon Kings, knowledge of how to cook these dishes had suddenly flooded his mind like a storm. He had spent the entire night preparing the familiar meals from his past life, regretting only that he couldn't taste them himself. But seeing the satisfaction on the witches' faces reassured him that he hadn't ruined the recipes.

The cost of feeding fifty people, including fine wine, had been covered easily with just a single fire gem. The act of cooking had brought him a sense of vitality. He sighed, reminiscing about his past life—traveling to different countries for missions, dining on local delicacies, and always cooking for himself in solitude.

"…You seem like you have something to say."

Hazard shifted his gaze back to Hezhna.

"I've prepared land for you and built a large tent. I think you'll like it."

Hezhna frowned upon hearing this but said nothing. At that moment, Hazard left, entrusting her with the task of waking her sisters and meeting him outside the castle that night.

Later that night, Hezhna and the other witches, now sober, stood before a massive, deep-red tent that resembled a circus tent. Entering, they found an enormous space, completely enclosed to shield them from the freezing mountain air. The atmosphere inside was warm and comfortable.

Beds were scattered throughout the vast tent—some hanging from the ceiling, others at various heights, and some on the ground. Hezhna stared in astonishment at Hazard, who stood at the center.

"From now on, you will live here. I want each of you to write a book every week—on principles, purity, circles, or elemental execution, whichever subject you are most knowledgeable in."

He gestured to a section of the tent where dozens of bookshelves stood, filled with thick, blank tomes.

"One book per person, per week. Try not to repeat topics, and help each other produce the best collection. History, geography, and literature are also acceptable. Those books are all blank—I expect every one of them to be filled by next year."

The witches frowned slightly, but such a task posed no danger to their lives. With Hezhna leading them, they stepped forward to face Hazard.

"If we stay here and write these books… what about the patrols?"

Hazard placed a hand on Hezhna's shoulder and, as he left the tent, spoke.

"Your sisters will handle the patrols. I don't want you going hungry, so I'll provide you with extra food. You can find barrels of wine in the western corner of the tent. Meals will be served at three fixed times—you'll be notified when to come to the castle for them."

Hezhna simply nodded, then turned to her sisters. The moment Hazard left, they grabbed their staffs and raced through the tent, competing to reach the highest spots. She smiled and glanced at Lucy.

"Maybe… this isn't so bad after all."

Lucy smiled back before joining the others in their playful competition, while Hezhna stood at the tent's entrance, gazing outside.

Outside the tent, Hazard reviewed his list of forces. The loyalty of the witches, which had been at 10% the night before, had now risen to 80%.

He spread his arms and activated an Abyssal Summoning Portal—small, but singular.

As the portal materialized, crimson blood began to drip from it. Hazard stepped closer, watching curiously.

The portal was closing, but his summoned entity had yet to emerge.

He debated his options.

Then, as the portal shrank further, he made a decision.

He leaped into the abyss.

A decision he would soon regret.