Red-Eyed Witch

V. THE BURDEN OF AN OATH

"As if the situation is not already bad enough, the victim's body belongs to none other than Lady Elizabeth," Oz informed gravely, his mouth curved into a deep frown. However, Illya failed to grasp why the said lady's death would greatly affect them. Not to be mean, the white-haired girl thought, but I barely knew her — scratch that, I do not know who she is.

"Why is the situation worse? Is Lady Elizabeth someone important?" Illya decided to ask, his tone making her feel nervous, and the emotion is made obvious by Illya fiddling with her fingers.

"Not as important as you, just a daughter of a Viscount," Oz dismissed with a wave of a hand as if to prove his point.

"So…what seems to be the problem?" The girl tilted her head to the side, still in a state of confusion. "We are not in trouble, are we? Surely, they do not think we are behind the murder of Lady Elizabeth."

"Illya," Oz began, all honorifics gone. His intense gaze made the said girl gulp, and her slouched figure sitting on the bed straightened in attention. "Lady Elizabeth's family is known for being strongly against your existence. It is only thanks to your title being higher than theirs that they cannot harm you directly."

Slowly, all of the title bullcrap sunk on Illya. "This is just like the plot of various manga works and otome games I have read and played before, about reincarnated villainesses," she muttered.

"Excuse me but a reincarnated what?" Oz raised one brow but Illya ignored him, still buried deep in her thoughts.

"But I do not recall ever reading anything like this world. The Kingdom of Cynthia does not ring a bell," the girl continued to mutter to herself and all Oz could do was give her a confused stare. Has she gone crazy?

"Moving on!" Oz clapped his hands loudly to get Illya's attention, a tight smile decorated his fair face, indicating his awkwardness and wanting to change the topic. "Going back, you understand how this might affect you, don't you?"

But all he got in reply was Illya's blank stare and the shake of her head — an indication that no, she did not get it or anything at all, having just been transported to this world so suddenly after her death. The boy sighed in exasperation, his hands placed on both hips — one that reminded Illya of her mother when she was about to scold her.

Mother! The girl jolted at the sudden thought invading her mind, making Oz flinch. "My mother! Oz, I have a family here, right?"

"Of course, your grace. You won't exist if no one gives birth to you," Oz replied with a roll of his eyes, his voice coated in thick sarcasm.

Illya replied with a roll of her own, choosing to ignore his sarcastic remark and instead, focused on recalling the faces of her mother and father. "I wonder, are they the same as my family in my previous life?"

"With all due respect, milady, you have not been making any sense ever since you woke up," Oz deadpanned. And as much as Illya wanted to smack him across the face, she knew he was right. The Illya Oz sees is the daughter of a duke. Meanwhile, Illya sees herself as just a girl thrown into a bizarre situation that she did not get to prepare for.

The white-haired girl, after catching wind of the precarious situation, wondered if death was a better option after all.

"So do you," Illya mumbled in spite, crossing her arms and refusing to meet Oz's pair of sea-green irises. All she wanted to know was whether she at least still had her family in this world — wherever this may be.

Seeing her pout like a kid, Oz could not help the sigh he let out for the umpteenth time. Yet, it brought a surge of good memories from days of yore, and his lips finally curved upwards. It didn't matter if she somehow lost her memory; Illya is still Illya.

Though losing it might be for the better.

"I will question you later about your...err...past life," Oz began slowly, his brain racking for the right words so as to not upset his lady. "For now, we must focus on the situation at hand."

"Oh yeah, about the murder of this Elizabeth girl and how it will affect me."

"Please, your grace, refer to her as Lady Elizabeth for courtesy. The same goes for everyone else," Oz groaned, already feeling the wrinkles forming on his face as stress threatened to overcome him. Although he does not really age.

Illya frowned but chose to not comment, and instead, obey him, seeing how he knew more about this land than her. If truly, there is a murderer among these walls she is in, it is best to ally herself with someone she can trust, and that someone being Oz. For now, at least.

"It would be too suspicious for the students of this academy if they learn that you had suddenly lost your memories, so listen carefully as I explain."

Any information given might clear some of her concerns and so with attentive ears, Illya unconsciously leaned her body forward. Oz began to ramble about everything related to her life. Occasionally, the blonde youth patiently answered all of Illya's questions, no matter how stupid they were.

It still came as a surprise to know that she is a daughter of a duke — a class deemed important and mighty next to the royal family. Illya is not too unfamiliar with the class system of nobles, having read her fair share of reading materials related to fantasy settings like this world. Because of her title, Illya is enrolled into the Empyrean Academy, one where only the elite of the society like nobles and the rich can go.

This is just like in the light novels and fairy tales I have read in my previous life. And in those fairy tales splashed in an array of vibrant colors, there is also a smudge of black — a dark tale swept under the floor, unseen by its onlookers, or people just choose to ignore it.

If there is something that is made painfully clear to Illya, it is that she is feared and unwanted, all because of her unnerving white hair and blood-red irises. As usual. With superstitions believed more than logic, she will never fit inside such a fragile society. People would readily jump at her for literally anything, a small mistake and everything would burn down to ashes.

All she did was exist, breathe in the same air, and in a flash, every single unfortunate thing is automatically her fault.

"It all happened during the entrance ceremony held especially to welcome the kingdom's crown prince. One student, heir to a dukedom, was found on top of the stage, hanging upside down. Unfortunately, as you've guessed, he was dead when we found him. But that was just the beginning." Although they were half-truths, Oz hoped Illya would bite. And that the girl did and for a brief moment, he refused to meet her gaze in shame.

"And they suspect me," Illya continued, feeling her hands beginning to shake again, so she grips it hard, hoping it would stop trembling. She glanced at the fidgeting blonde youth now leaning on her door, hoping he would deny what she said, but what did she expect?

"They would jump at every opportunity they can take Illya. It does not matter how silly it may seem to us," he replied, his gaze soft, just like the hand he offered to run his fingers through her white locks. Since when did he get closer? Illya gulped, too stunned to slap his warm hand away.

"And…and the...that shadow of the witch we saw?" She stumbled over her words as her lips trembled at the unfamiliar gaze Oz directed towards her. It made her body feel giddy, and it made her wonder who he truly is to her. Questions of why occupied her head.

At the mention of the witch, the boy snapped out of his trance and grit his teeth. Illya found herself missing the warmth as Oz retracted his hand that caressed snow-white her hair — a color so undesirable yet he had no qualms of combing his hand through it. The blonde male backed away while muttering a quick apology.

"The witch and you," he started with a fake cough to ease the awkwardness creeping up to him. "No doubt, they believe everything is your doing, that you cursed the academy and everyone in it."

That's absurd! Illya wanted to scream but the smile Oz gave her washed over her anger, calming her back down.

"I know, I believe you, I always will and always do. As long as I'm here, I will not let any of those with ill intentions get close to you."

"Oh," Illya breathed out, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest. Has this happened before too? She finds herself asking the question as the familiar sight rekindled something inside her, one that she had long forgotten. Though Illya could not tell what exactly it is.

And indeed it did, for Oz honored this oath over and over. It mattered not if he failed this time, he will just have to try again until he runs out of breath and finally succumb to his end. But until then, he will never stop.

He moved closer until he stood directly in front of the girl's sitting figure on the bed and, in an unexpected fashion, went down on one knee.

Illya could feel her cheeks getting warm as embarrassment from the strangled noise she let out settled in. Even more so as the blonde gently, slowly, lovingly, took her hands in his calloused ones, and Illya wondered what made his hand in the state it is now. Has he been through a lot too? From the way he was treating her, it made Illya wonder as well, if he sees her as a fragile glass that was about to break any moment now.

It was as if he was proposing to her — anyone who would walk in on them like this would surely thought so too — and that thought alone had Illya's cheeks erupt into a deep shade of red. She cursed herself for having a pale complexion as it made her blush all the more visible. No, stop thinking of such embarrassing things!

"Never will you be lonely ever again, milady. Even if your path is to be bound to hell, just know this, I will walk through it all with you. Please keep this oath in your heart and believe in me. When time gets hard, look beside you and I will be there always."

Sealing the oath he has made plenty of times before, Oz planted a fleeting kiss on both of her hands, each bearing the weight of his promise, and each gentle like the blowing wind outside.

The scene in front of her brought a tinge of pain onto her chest, and she breathed out a sigh in hopes of relieving the tightening she was feeling, as if someone was crushing her heart. And a single tear slipped past the girl's blood-red eyes. This time, Illya is sure she has heard this oath plenty of times before. All of them coming from him. Each promise brought the blonde youth pain, pain that is supposed to be hers to carry, and that is the least ending Illya wanted to reach for some reason.

But for some reason Illya could not put a finger to, the said girl cannot bring herself to let go of his hand, so warm and grounding — or does she actually refuse to do so? Illya is not sure. Instead, the white-haired allowed herself to weep her heavy heart out, her cries melancholic as Oz stayed kneeled on the cold tiled floor.

The said male dared not let go, and he dared not move any more closer in fear that the fragile girl might finally break.