“Miss?” Caroline tried to guess what had happened.

Perhaps the young lady had noticed something strange, burst into the room, and tried to pin the man to the wall with her sword. But instead, she pulled out a piece of women’s clothing from her luggage.

“Did you kill this woman?” Charlotte, noticing Caroline’s arrival, threw the clothing and suitcase toward her.

She twisted the man’s arm behind his back, pinning him firmly, and demanded an answer in a harsh tone.

The man, clearly still confused, began to curse.

Charlotte tightened her grip. The man let out a cry of pain, it felt as though his bones were about to break.

Finally, the pain brought him to his senses.

Groaning, he reluctantly replied:“What are you talking about? What woman? The one on the bed? She’s my wife!”

Caroline approached the bed and lifted the blanket.

The woman lying on the bed had turned into a dried-up corpse.

All the blood in her body had disappeared without a trace, but there were no visible wounds.

A faint metallic scent lingered in the air.

Witchcraft?

When something inexplicable happened, witchcraft was usually a reasonable guess.

It didn’t seem to be the man’s doing.

If it were, Charlotte would have sensed his true nature the moment she touched him.

Caroline turned to Charlotte:“I suspect witchcraft. Miss, leave this man to me.”

Knights were more sensitive to traces of sorcery than automatons.

Charlotte hesitated for a moment.

The man seized the chance to break free but was quickly thrown back to the ground by Caroline.

“Sir, please remain calm. I will explain everything to you.”

The man assessed his situation, including the blade dangerously close to his neck, especially that, and concluded Caroline was right.

He needed to stay calm.

Charlotte, hearing from Caroline that she had made a mistake, was at a loss.

She muttered a quick apology to the man and turned her attention back to the woman’s body.

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The woman lay on her back, her eyes closed.

One hand rested on her chest, the other hung off the bed.

Her mouth was open, as if she had died in her sleep.

There was only one scar on her body, an old one on her back, which clearly wasn’t the cause of death.

Apart from that, there were no other injuries.

So… witchcraft? Charlotte sensed an unusual magical energy but couldn’t rule out other possibilities.

Meanwhile, Caroline spoke to the man.

He introduced himself as John, and the deceased woman was his wife, Susan.

John claimed he had been asleep and only realized Susan was dead when Charlotte burst into the room.

The commotion had drawn the attention of the villagers, who began to gather outside the door.

John approached Susan’s body, and Charlotte stepped aside.

He must be devastated, Charlotte thought, silently expressing her condolences.

Caroline positioned herself beside Charlotte, subtly placing herself between her and the villagers.

They were outsiders, and their presence was already suspicious.

Caroline remembered the looks the villagers had given them and prepared for the possibility of needing to act.

Charlotte, however, didn’t understand Caroline’s wariness.

She expected the villagers to mourn.

Instead, she heard whispers among them:

“Another one.”

“Oh, it’s just Susan. No big deal.”

“Well, she should’ve died long ago. Let’s go.”

There was no sadness or anger in their voices.

If anything, there was a hint of disappointment.

Disappointment?

Why? Charlotte wondered.

A person died! A life was lost! How can they be disappointed? What were they expecting?

The villagers dispersed, like an audience leaving a theater before the play began.

Charlotte tried to address some of them:“She’s dead!”

She told a woman, who didn’t respond.

“Someone has died!”

She said to a child, who ran away.

“A person is dead…”

She grabbed a man’s arm.

He pulled away brusquely and replied:“So what? People die.”

Confused, Charlotte stopped in the middle of the street, unable to comprehend why these people were so indifferent to death.

Caroline stood silently beside her, neither consoling nor stopping her.

John returned, carrying Susan’s body over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

He dropped it to the ground, muttered something about bad luck, and went back into the house.

“Sir! Sir?” Charlotte called after him.

John turned, his face showing boredom.

“She’s your wife?”

“Yes. So?”

“Don’t you think you should treat her with respect? You should bury her properly.”

“Someone will bury her. Nick, the gravedigger, handles that.” John’s tone grew increasingly impatient.

“But… what about you? Don’t you think you should do something for her?”

“Alright, enough.” John gestured for her to stop. “You didn’t even know her, did you? Then stop making a fuss. If you’re so worried, bury her yourself.”

He slammed the door shut and went to sleep.

Caroline supported Charlotte by the arm and guided her back to the inn.

Charlotte didn’t remember how she got to her room.

John’s words and the villagers’ behavior echoed in her mind.

She had met people who defied death, who mocked it, and had even heard legends about those who conquered it.

But these people… they ignored life itself.

Lying in bed, Charlotte whispered:“Caroline.”

“I’m here, miss,” Caroline replied.

“I don’t understand… Someone died, and no one cares? How can they be so indifferent?”

“Not everyone values life, miss. They’ve abandoned the dignity of living. They’re alive, but it’s as if they’re already dead inside.”

Caroline helped Charlotte lie down, adjusting the blanket.“Sleep a little, miss. In the morning, we’ll leave. Don’t waste your thoughts on them.”

Charlotte gripped Caroline’s hand, her eyes resolute.“No. I can’t ignore this. My father always said every life deserves respect. They may not care, but I do. I’m a knight, and I must honor life. I can’t stand by while an injustice unfolds before me.”

Caroline sighed, pressing Charlotte’s forehead with a finger.“Alright, alright, my lady. If you insist. But rest for now. Tomorrow, we’ll investigate.”

“Good night, Caroline.”