Scarlett sat in her office, hunched over her desk, engrossed in the mountain of documents sprawled before her. The morning had slipped away unnoticed, and her eyes were starting to feel strained from the excessive amount of numbers and figures she had been poring over.

The thick pile consisted mostly of reports concerning the barony and the family’s current assets, as well as some preliminary estimations regarding how they could be employed. Evelyne had compiled them in preparation for the relief venture Scarlett had somehow convinced herself to get involved with. The younger woman was currently looking into what options they had available on that front and had asked for Scarlett’s input.

Scarlett herself would have preferred to avoid dealing with all this paperwork, but she didn’t really feel like she had the option to refuse giving her help, considering it was her own idea in the first place.

That said, she couldn’t deny the growing fear that her brain would turn to mush if she continued reading through these papers any longer right now.

With a sigh of surrender, she pushed the documents to the side and reclined in her chair. There was a reason she had never wanted to work in something related to the natural sciences or accounting. Basic arithmetic was all well and good, but she had done enough internships in traditional office settings when she was younger to never want to look at an Excel document ever again, and this was just that but without the conveniences. She much preferred her old work as an editor.

Maybe if she managed to survive the future catastrophes that would occur across the empire—and if she lost her current wealth as a baroness—she could open an editing firm or something like that and take things easy. If she never found a way back to her own world, that could be a good Plan C or D. This place wasn’t so bad if you disregarded the secret evil organization and occasional rampaging dragons.

A small chuckle escaped her lips as she glanced around the office. For now, she would be satisfied with a brief break. She didn’t feel like leaving the office, though.

She rose from her chair and rounded the desk, ambling over to the bookshelf running along the room’s right wall. Her eyes scanned the array of titles on display.

Although she had read a decent number of the books here in her quest to familiarize herself with this world, she had barely scratched the surface of the sum of works within this collection. While books could be exorbitantly expensive in this world, they were no rarity. She wouldn’t be surprised if most common households had at least one or two available. The empire had long been supporting several initiatives to promote literacy, and it appeared to be no stranger to bureaucracy, judging from all the documents and forms Evelyne had sent her over the months.

Among the titles that the bookshelf sported, one in particular caught her attention. The book’s spine boasted a weathered, dark brown leather, dressed with black lettering.

The Red Witch of Destruction: Catastrophe Incarnate.

Scarlett recalled Rosa once mentioning this book during one of her earliest visits to the office. At the time, Scarlett had dissuaded the woman from reading it, and since then, she hadn’t given its existence much thought. She already had a general idea of its contents and hadn’t felt the need to learn more than that. Now, however, her curiosity was urging her on…

She reached out and pulled the book out from its place on the shelf. The cover was as dull and weathered as the spine, devoid of any illustrations. Most books around here lacked visual imagery, though, apart from a few fictional works she had seen Rosa peruse on occasion. Her assumption was that the empire had access to printing presses or some equivalent, but maybe it was more expensive to reproduce illustrations.

Moving to the armchair in the corner of the room, which was primarily reserved for Rosa when she was here, Scarlett settled down and opened the book. She turned the page until she reached the preface.

In the annals of history, certain tales transcend the passage of time, etching themselves upon the collective memory of nations. Legends of heroes and villains, of love and loss, of triumph and catastrophe, weave a tapestry of human experience, capturing our imaginations and revealing profound truths about the world we inhabit. Among these tales, some recount the nefarious exploits of individuals whose names once evoked dread and destruction. ‘The Red Witch of Destruction: Catastrophe Incarnate’ stands as an authoritative volume, delving deep into the deeds and acts of one such individual: The Red Witch. A formidable pyromancer from a bygone era, she was an embodiment of malevolence that posed a dire threat to the empire and its very existence.

Drawing upon meticulous research and scholarly scrutiny, this treatise aims to present a dispassionate analysis of the Red Witch’s destructive exploits. Its focus lies in meticulously documenting her unparalleled command over fire, which she harnessed as a tool to inflict widespread destruction upon towns and villages, resulting in catastrophic consequences for the empire’s innocent populace.

“The Red Witch of Destruction: Catastrophe Incarnate” provides a rigorous examination of the furtive origins of the Red Witch’s sorcery, situating her within the broader historical and sociopolitical context of the early era of the empire’s existence. Through a careful exploration of archival sources and corroborative accounts, this scholarly endeavor aims to shed light on the factors that propelled the Red Witch towards her path of ruin and which might cause similar individuals to act the same in the future.

This academic exposition seeks to foster critical reflection on the ramifications of unrestrained power and the pursuit of personal vengeance. By examining the Red Witch’s destructive legacy, this work underscores the inherent perils associated with the unbridled use of magical abilities, revealing the immense devastation that can be wrought when grievances give rise to an insatiable desire for perceived retribution. Moreover, it invites readers to engage in an intellectual discourse centered on the complexities of human nature, exploring its capacity for both darkness and redemption. It posits pertinent questions surrounding absolution and the enduring legacy of those ensnared in a cycle of malfeasance. The analysis contained within these pages is intended to serve as a catalyst for contemplation, urging a thoughtful examination of the fate that befalls those trapped in the inexorable grip of infamy.

Scarlett couldn’t help but furrow her brows as she delved further into the book’s pages. Despite its claim of being a scholarly work with an unbiased perspective, it certainly didn’t hold back in depicting the Red Witch as an irredeemable villain.

Even after flipping through different sections of the book to skim its contents, she found little related to the nuance and ‘intellectual discourse’ alluded to in the preface. At least not in relation to the Red Witch. Instead, the overall focus of the piece seemed to be on condemning the woman for what the author hypothesized to be an unjust or misguided cause, driven by an insatiable thirst for destruction and personal vengeance.

What struck Scarlett as both amusing and exasperating was the fact that, while the contents of the book appeared to be at least a century old, the author still seemed to be working with outdated information and openly admitted to lacking many crucial details. The true motivation and identity of the Red Witch remained a mystery, as most complete records about the woman had been destroyed for unknown reasons. The author suggested that she might have been a noble or official in the Imperial Army who was deceived or manipulated by the Tribe of Sin—the group had existed in various forms since the empire’s founding—before ultimately devolving into what was best described as a domestic terrorist.

Scarlett wasn’t quite sure what to make of the book as a whole. It provided an alternative perspective on some of the information she knew from the game, but it fell short of her expectations when it came to learning about the person herself.

While she knew it was improbable to be written down in a place like this, she had hoped for a deeper understanding of the Red Witch’s origins and the woman’s magic, as it could be relevant to her own progress, but she was mostly disappointed in that regard. In fact, she had likely learned more from a single side-quest in the game than from skimming through the book’s pages. The supposed scarcity and deliberate destruction of previous records pertaining to the Red Witch piqued her curiosity, but that didn’t provide much of an answer in and of itself.

Without realizing it, however, over an hour had passed while she was reading the book when a soft meow suddenly pierced through her concentration. Her eyes darted up and across the room, landing on the desk at the far end, where a jet-black cat sat. Its tail elegantly swayed as its gaze seemed to fixate on the large painting that hung on the wall behind the desk and that had been gifted by The Gentleman.

Then, the cat turned its head, its amethyst eyes meeting Scarlett’s.

For the briefest of moments, Scarlett got the urge to leap out of her chair and scan her surroundings, almost expecting to find the man in question somewhere in the room. But she quickly realized it was just her and the cat here. With that realization, her sudden tension eased slightly, and she observed the feline closely.

This marked the first time Empress had shown herself in front of Scarlett since their first meeting. The cat returned her gaze with equal intensity, emitting another soft meow.

Scarlett frowned for a moment, then remembered herself and inclined her head ever-so-slightly. “Welcome once more to my home, Your Royal Highness. It has been some time since we last met.”

The cat meowed again, straightening her back and with an air of pride, before settling down on the table and beginning to lick her paw.

Scarlett continued watching Empress, wondering what the cat was doing here. She had heard that Empress had been appearing somewhat frequently at the mansion lately—the Loci still failed to detect when it happened—but she still didn’t understand why. According to one of the servants, the cat had also been here when Scarlett was away in Windgrove. According to Scarlett’s instructions, the servant had made sure to provide milk at the time.

…It couldn’t be that the cat was here just because of that, right?

No. Probably not. Empress would have access to better things than that.

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt, just in case?

Scarlett studied the cat. “Would you like me to prepare some milk for you?”

The cat paused in her grooming, lifting her gaze to Scarlett for a few seconds. Then Empress stood up and, with a grace that only cats could display, leaped down from the desk and made her way towards the door. Scarlett looked on in uncertainty for a moment before placing her book on a nearby table and rising from her seat.

The door swung open as Empress approached it, and the cat snuck out. Scarlett followed suit.

In the hallway outside the office, Empress casually approached the window overlooking the courtyard. With one smooth leap, she settled herself on the windowsill, finding a comfortable position to rest in.

Scarlett stopped, unsure what to do now. She had thought Empress wanted her to follow for some reason, but had she misinterpreted the cat’s intentions? Had Empress really just been looking for a new spot to relax?

That’s when something caught Scarlett’s eye outside the window.

She froze.

Lying on the cobblestones of the expansive courtyard was the hulking form of a ferocious-looking creature, its length stretching across nearly half of the space. Its dark black hide and scales reflected the afternoon sun, with sinewy and powerful limbs that were adorned with jagged talons that looked capable of tearing a person apart in one movement. Tattered wings, torn and frayed, lay folded against its side like ragged black banners, the thin membranes between its skeletal wing structure stretched and damaged.

Serrated teeth lined its snarling snout, frozen in a perpetual snarl, while two broken horns curved sinuously upward from its skull. A long gash marred its lizard-like neck, oozing black and red from a congealed wave of blood that dripped onto the stone beneath.

Scarlett stared at the scene before her, struggling to comprehend what she was witnessing.

That was a dragon. A dead dragon.

She shifted her gaze to Empress, who nonchalantly licked her paw from her perch on the windowsill, unfazed by it all.

What the hel—