Chapter 243: Shana’s Decision

"The prisoner, the witch, has requested to speak with you, my lord."

Ulrich stopped.

He had been preparing to leave the dining hall when the guard approached him with the message. Monika stood nearby while Fabian remained a short distance behind them.

Ulrich turned.

"Shana?"

"Yes, my lord," the guard replied. "She asked for you specifically."

Ulrich’s expression became thoughtful.

The last time he had spoken to Shana, he had offered her a choice.

Freedom.

Not without conditions.

Nothing came freely in Ulrich’s world.

If she accepted, Shana would swear loyalty to House Rubenhart. She would assist Airam, Hermione, and Esther in understanding witchcraft, their Witch Trees, their unstable mana, and the dangerous nature of the power they carried.

The sisters had extraordinary potential.

Airam possessed a frightening instinct for loose runes and destructive witchcraft. Hermione had a rare talent for structured magecraft, Formula Rings, and the manipulation of mana. Esther’s abilities had not yet fully revealed themselves, but the Prismatic Mana Core within all three girls marked them as far from ordinary.

Yet potential alone was not enough.

The sisters lacked control.

Their mana was volatile. Their emotions influenced their power too easily. Airam and Hermione, especially, could not fully draw upon their Witch Trees without risking backlash, injury, or the destruction of everything around them.

Ulrich had originally intended to keep witchcraft far from their lives.

He wanted them to learn proper magecraft. Controlled magecraft. Noble magecraft. Anything but the loose, dangerous methods witches used.

But he had changed his mind.

Ignoring their nature would not make it disappear.

Forcing them to suppress witchcraft completely would only make their power more unstable. It would leave them ignorant of themselves, afraid of what they carried, and unable to control the parts of their mana that mattered most.

Ulrich did not want Airam using destructive runes every day.

He did not want Hermione experimenting with dangerous spells without supervision.

But they needed knowledge.

They needed someone who understood what it meant to be a witch.

And Shana was the only witch under his roof who had lived long enough to teach them.

Ulrich wondered briefly how the sisters had become so powerful in the novel.

The answer was unpleasantly simple.

They had suffered.

They had been enslaved while young. They had been used by adults who treated them as tools. They had endured cruelty, fear, and pain until the darkness inside them became fuel for their power.

Hatred was a powerful thing.

Despair was stronger still.

Ulrich understood that better than he wanted to.

After his mother died, he had used grief as fuel.

After discovering that his core was crippled, he had pushed himself beyond every reasonable limit. His father’s disappointment had become anger. His helplessness had become obsession. His fear had become the reason he kept training until his body could barely stand.

Pain could make someone stronger.

But it could also destroy them.

Ulrich had no intention of allowing the three sisters to become strong through suffering.

"Fabian," he said, "remain here."

Fabian bowed.

"Yes, my lord."

Ulrich looked toward Monika.

"You are coming with me."

Monika blinked.

"M-Me?"

"Yes."

Monika lowered her head immediately.

"As you command, my lord."

Together, they left the upper halls of the Estate and crossed the courtyard.

The entrance to the underground holding cells stood beyond the main building, set into the side of an old stone structure. It was not visible from the gardens or the guest wing. Most visitors to the Estate would never know it existed.

A pair of guards waited outside.

They bowed as Ulrich approached.

The door was opened.

Cold air rose from below.

Monika hesitated at the entrance.

The underground prison made her uneasy. She had heard of Shana, of course. Everyone within the household knew that a captured witch had been held beneath the Estate for two years.

But hearing it was one thing.

Walking down into the darkness was another.

Ulrich descended first.

Monika followed behind him.

Their footsteps echoed through the stone corridor. The air smelled of damp walls, iron, and old dust. Lanterns burned at intervals along the passage, their flames casting long shadows over the floor.

At last, they reached Shana’s cell.

She sat against the far wall.

Her dark hair hung loose around her face. Her light-brown eyes were barely visible beneath it. The shackles around her wrists and ankles were worn with age, and the simple gray dress she wore did little to protect her from the underground chill.

But she looked different from the last time Ulrich had seen her.

She no longer cried.

She no longer whimpered or begged.

Her face had become still, not peaceful but more like empty.

As though she had cried until there was nothing left inside her to give.

Ulrich found that easier to deal with.

He had already spent enough time surrounded by tears: Airam’s pain, Ashara’s cries, Hermione’s guilt, Esther’s fear, Fabian’s endless handkerchiefs.

He had no patience left for Shana, whom he didn’t care the slighest bit about.

The guard unlocked the cell.

The iron door opened with a harsh scrape.

Ulrich stepped inside.

Monika remained just outside the threshold.

She watched quietly.

Seeing Shana properly, she felt a small ache in her chest. The woman had been confined for two years. Two full years beneath the Estate, with little sunlight, little company, and no certainty that she would ever see the outside world again.

It was almost a miracle that Shana had not lost her mind completely.

Ulrich stopped before her.

"Have you made your decision?" He asked.

Shana slowly raised her head.

Her eyes met his.

"I accept," she said.

Her voice was weak from disuse.

Ulrich’s expression did not change.

"Accept what?"

Shana swallowed.

"I...I will help Anna-Maria’s daughters."

Ulrich watched her in silence.

"You do not sound convinced."

Shana’s gaze dropped.

"Stand."

He ordered coldly.

Shana obeyed.

She rose slowly, the shackles around her wrists and ankles rattling against one another. Her legs seemed weak beneath her after so long in confinement, but she forced herself upright.

Then she looked at Ulrich...or tried to.

The moment she met his crimson eyes, she flinched.

"Look at me," Ulrich said.

Shana’s body stiffened.

Slowly, she raised her gaze again.

She was afraid.

"You will help them," he said.

Shana nodded.

"Yes."

"You will teach them what you know. You will help them understand their Witch Trees. You will help them recognize when their power is becoming unstable. You will not encourage them toward recklessness, hatred, or the ways of the covens."

Shana’s eyes shifted faintly.

"I understand."

"Try anything suspicious," Ulrich continued, his voice turning deadly cold, "and you will wish you were dead."

Shana did not look away.

"I will not."

The answer came more clear this time.

She drew a careful breath.

"I...I have nothing else."

Her voice lowered.

"But I want to help Anna-Maria’s daughters....as forgiveness."

Ulrich stared at her.

Forgiveness.

For what she had done two years ago.

For attempting to abduct the girls.

For trying to take them back into the life Anna-Maria had fled from.

For trying to drag them toward a coven when their mother had sacrificed everything to give them another future.

Ulrich would not have trusted an apology based only on fear.

He would not have trusted empty claims of remorse.

But Shana had spoken Anna-Maria’s name.

That mattered.

Shana had belonged to a coven once. She had lost it. Her own people had not come for her. They had abandoned her beneath the Rubenhart Estate, leaving her imprisoned without rescue or explanation.

Now she had nothing.

No coven.

No allies.

No place waiting for her outside these walls.

The only thing left to her was the old, twisted sense of sisterhood witches carried for one another.

Anna-Maria’s daughters were witches.

That was enough for Shana to see them as something close to sisters.

Perhaps it was enough to trust her.

Not completely for sure, but enough.

"From this moment onward," Ulrich said, "your loyalty belongs to me."

Shana remained still.

"You will obey my orders. You will not leave this territory without permission. You will not contact any coven, witch, noble, or outsider unless I allow it."

Shana nodded.

"I...understand."

Ulrich watched her for several seconds.

Then he turned toward the cell door.

He had no need to say more.

"Monika," he said.

Monika immediately stepped forward.

"Yes, my lord?"

"See to her."

Monika looked toward Shana.

"Wash her. Treat any injuries or illness. Give her proper clothing and a proper meal."

Monika’s expression softened.

"Yes, my lord."

Ulrich walked out of the cell.

The guard shut the iron door behind him.

But this time, Shana did not look at the lock.

She stood quietly in the center of the cell, listening as Monika began to speak to her with a gentleness the underground prison had not heard in a long time.