She is not an investigator.

"Ah, look!"

Clendia suddenly exclaimed softly, pointing to the opera house in front of her.

"There are so many people, it looks like it's about to start? Let's hurry in."

Igris nodded and followed Clendia into the enormous, bustling opera house.

The thought that only she and Krentia were real among the audience members below the stage made her want to laugh for no reason.

Even after they were fully seated, Igris did not hear Clendia mention the tickets.

But what's the problem? After all, everything here actually belongs to Krentia, doesn't it?

"It seems... it's about to begin."

The two women were seated very close together, which seemed to be intentional. Apart from the two women sitting close together, the seats next to them were all completely empty.

As the stage lights dimmed, the huge red curtain in front of the stage was finally slowly unveiled.

The airy, ethereal sound of the piano heralded the start of the performance.

It was at this moment that the distortion of the image began.

Igris did not try to close her eyes, because she knew that the mental distortion would not stop just because she stopped watching.

This is a gift that Clendia prepared for her, and it is also the true nature of this opera.

"Get ready, Lady Spade."

"How many times do I have to repeat myself before you stop calling me by that name?"

Along with the complaints, Igris's consciousness also vanished.

Her gaze began to shift, to rotate, and to undergo changes and distortions unimaginable to the naked eye.

The theater, which had been as still as a well, began to move slowly, as if the entire whole had been cut up, chopped up, and kneaded into a mess.

It wasn't until everything before her eyes began to turn dim and distorted that she finally felt the reality of her body and regained her sense of thought.

The smell of rotten wood lingered in the air, and the crackling of firewood filled the air.

Igris sat on the worn-out sofa, her legs crossed, looking at the black-and-white newspaper in front of her.

Thirteen children have gone missing deep in the forest and have not yet been found.

The newspaper's front page bore this sentence, but as she looked down, she couldn't see any other information.

The newspaper was slowly lowered, and Igris stretched out her legs, looking at the hunting rifle on the wall.

"It's time to go hunting," she said.

Living deep in the forest, she made a living by hunting, and she was never picky about her prey, as long as they could fetch a good price.

creak-

Igris, carrying a hunting rifle, pushed open the wooden door. The slightly chilly wind blowing through the woods made her shiver instantly, and she unconsciously pulled her sleeves tighter.

Now it is autumn, and the forest's lushness has faded, replaced by desolation and decay.

This was a good opportunity for her, because prey often had more difficulty hiding themselves during this season.

As she walked along the path leading deep into the forest, her hair restoration was forced to stop.

She saw a fork in the road, a fork in the road that shouldn't have been there.

At the fork in the road, there was a sign pointing to the road on the left and the road on the right.

The sign on the left reads: This place is full of wealth, but also full of danger.

The sign on the right reads: Everything here is great, but it's always so boring.

As an experienced hunter in this forest, she had never seen anything like it before.

But she knew what choice she had to make.

"Let's guess what kind of person would actively seek out adventure."

A reckless young man who is not afraid of death, a ghost who walks on the edge of death, and a child whose mind is not yet mature.

And her.

With her gun on her back, Igris resolutely walked down that road.

She stopped again after only a five-minute walk.

But what lay before her was another choice.

"Miss! Miss! Beautiful lady! Please help me! My leg is injured, and without your help, I will never be able to leave here!"

A seven or eight-year-old child fell by the roadside, his leg was pierced by thorns, and bright red blood was flowing uncontrollably, which looked quite terrible.

But a hunter's time is often limited. She hadn't caught her prey yet, so she couldn't turn back, nor could she take the poor child back the way she came.

"Please! If it weren't for you, I would really die here!"

His voice began to grow louder, his attitude more sincere, and his movements more ferocious.

The hunter must move forward, but she still has other options.

"Child, tell me, where are your companions?"

The hunter kindly inquired about his situation, but he suddenly burst into tears, speaking with a mixture of grief and indignation.

"They abandoned me; they're off to find treasure. I'm left here, stuck in the same place like a foolish tortoise!"

Yes, what a pitiful child.

Abandoned by his companions, he lost his chance to explore, was injured, and was despised by people like a stray dog ​​on the roadside.

You could have saved him, but you don't have much time to waste in this forest. You have to find your own prey, so you have to give up something along the way.

…………

My vision returned to normal, my thoughts began to function, and my stiff body and soul became fervent at this moment.

Igris looked at the shotgun in her hand, then at the child lying on the ground wailing.

Above the forest above her head, a line of words appeared clearly.

The hunter will eventually have to make his own choice: for the sake of his conscience, or for the desire to survive?

"What nonsense are you talking about..."

This was a performance for her.

In this story, she plays the role of a hunter, venturing deep into the forest in search of her prey.

During this process, she may encounter other murdered children and decide whether to offer them help.

But her time is limited, so the number of people she can save is also limited.

So in this story, she should try her best to make the right decisions to save more people?

She hates this rule.

Click.

With the bullet chambered, Igris slowly straightened up, raised the barrel of her gun, and pointed it at the child who had fallen to the ground.

"Stop! Stop! Don't do this! I'm not your prey! Save me, please!"

He began to wail and cry, but his leg, pierced by thorns, remained motionless, only making noise.

"If you truly value your life, then I'm willing to give you a chance."

Igris brandished the gun in her hand and said with a serious expression.

"You will have three seconds to run away. If you are still here within three seconds, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the head."

"What? No, you can't..."

When faced with the boy's questions and cries, he was not met with pity or hope.

Instead, it was a cold, impersonal countdown, one after another.

"three."

"No! No!!"

He continued to roar and struggle, but even so, he did not move an inch from his position.

"one."

boom--!

Deafening gunshots rang out in the forest, startling countless crows into taking flight.

Igris slowly lowered the muzzle of her gun and turned away disdainfully.

"...My anthropology is especially useful at times like this."

A bizarre stage play – The Prideful Witch and the Wonderland: Chapter Nineteen

Walking alone in the forest, Igris, holding a hunting rifle, would always shake her wrist strangely and check the weapon in her hand.

She wasn't quite comfortable using this old-fashioned shotgun. The rough feel of the handle, the heavy barrel, and even its slightly off-target accuracy were the biggest reasons why Igris disliked it.

But here, she seems unable to obtain her own pistol, which is a pity.

"Hey! Hey! Oh my god, someone's finally here! Come help me!"

Igris saw a child again.

He was hanging upside down from a tree, with a rope tied to his legs, swaying precariously, and appeared to have no ability to free himself.

But he was not injured and still had the strength to call for help.

"How did you end up hanging here?"

Igris curiously examined the rope on the tree. She could confirm that it wasn't a trap; it was simply tied there.

So it's obvious that this little guy was tied up here, rather than accidentally stepping into some rope trap.

“They want to take all the treasure! This isn’t what we agreed on, but there are a lot of them, you know… I can’t handle those guys by myself. Please, put me down, I’ll go back on my own.”

He looked somewhat angry, but more so helpless; he had probably given up hope of finding that elusive treasure.

"Then what are my benefits?"