Staying silent this long is obviously suspicious — his suspicion is completely reasonable. How to cover for it, I think, smiling on the outside while screaming in a panic on the inside.
“Is it… a price of magic? That sort of thing?”
(Hm? What’s that?)
“I heard about it from the village elder once. Sometimes Witches and Sorcerers sacrifice something of themselves to push their magic to the absolute limit. …Did you sacrifice your voice, ma’am Witch?”
So the Witch and Sorcerer races apparently gain power by sacrificing something of themselves. That’s terrifying — my expression clouds over involuntarily. I’m glad to be a monster that can grow by spending Evolution Points without sacrificing anything.
“Oh, I’m — I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful…”
I haven’t actually lost my voice, but Noel seems to have gotten that impression and is hurriedly bowing his head. I can’t speak in front of people, so it amounts to the same thing in practice — but I haven’t lost it completely, so there’s nothing to be sad about. I pat Noel on the head to convey that he needn’t worry.
“…Ma’am Witch, you’re kind… Um, ma’am Witch. I’ll speak to people for you, since you can’t.”
(Oh, that helps. That means when we get to the settlement, he’ll explain that I’m a good witch.)
At this rate, there’s no chance I’ll be treated like a kidnapper. I smile at Noel and take his hand, squeezing lightly. As if to say: please, put in a good word for me with the people in the settlement.
If Noel introduces me as a “good witch,” I might avoid being treated as suspicious. No one would ever suspect the truth — that I’m a plant-type monster, nothing but a Mandrake wearing a human shape.
(With this, I can definitely live among humans!)
…Or so I thought. Then something unexpected happened.
Before the meal, Noel seemed unwell again, so I had him eat some meat I’d mixed recovery medicine into — and after that, when I brought him with me to visit the settlement, I tilted my head at the strange quiet of the place.
There was no sign of anyone, despite it being midday. Last night there were lights, so it’s not an abandoned settlement — so what’s going on?
(Could everyone have gone into hiding out of fear of strangers…?)
Closed-off villages do often push out outsiders. Perhaps seeing an unfamiliar person approach, the villagers had all shut themselves inside their homes.
Hoping at least someone would be out, I enter the village and walk along the path. Then Noel grips my hand anxiously.
“…That smell… ma’am Witch, this is…”
(Does it smell like something? …My sense of smell isn’t very sharp, I’m afraid.)
Noel is a wolf beastkin — being canine, his sense of smell must be keen. I, on the other hand, am a plant, and my sense of smell is probably below human standard. I have no idea what scent Noel has noticed.
“Ah.”
(Oh — a human child. …She’s collapsed and not moving… is she… dead…?)
In front of one of the houses, a girl is lying face-down. There’s what looks like vomit on the ground around her, and she isn’t moving. I go over and lift her up — she’s barely breathing, still alive. But her skin has no elasticity; she seems to be experiencing dehydration.
“…The same sickness as my village. I’m sure everyone in the village must be…”
So a plague is spreading. Perhaps nearly all the villagers are infected and unable to move. In that case, staying in this village where the human population is on the verge of dying out seems impossible. How many survivors are there even —
(Wait. …If everyone dies… could there be rumors that a witch’s curse destroyed the village…?)
I don’t know yet exactly where witches stand in this world’s society, but in most fantasy settings, witches occupy the villain’s role. If I’m misunderstood before anyone knows I’m a good witch, I might never shake that bad impression. That would be very bad. Extremely bad.
(It’s the same sickness as Noel’s, so the full-recovery potion should work. The problem is… how do I administer it…?)
Before, I’d thought Noel was a dog, so I used a straw to pour the medicine in. But doing that with humans — men, women, old, young — is probably not acceptable. To anyone watching it looks like I’m making them swallow my saliva, and if someone who remembered that said “what a disgusting thing to do!” I wouldn’t just fail to be accepted — I’d be driven out entirely. Even if I end up having to look for a different settlement, it’s better not to have a bad reputation follow me there.
(Hmm… medicine comes out of the holes in my root section…)
In other words: eyes, ears, nose, and mouth — those four. But wherever it comes out, it only looks like bodily fluid, and most people would have strong reservations about putting something they know came out of someone’s face into their mouth. It might be better to create a new opening somewhere else.
So — if I’m adding an opening for medicine, where should it be? That’s what I should be thinking about. While I’m mulling it over, I can feel the girl in my arms growing weaker by the minute. I don’t have time to keep deliberating.
(Oh no, this is bad. If I keep thinking, she might not make it… for this child, for now — tears…)
Just as with the knight before, I hold the girl and let full-recovery potion flow as tears, letting it fall onto her face. Even one drop to the lips would be enough. I adjust my angle slightly so Noel can’t quite see, move a few of the vines in my hair, and guide the medicine along them to fall precisely onto her lips. The color returns to the girl’s face, and her eyelids slowly open.
“…A goddess…?”
“A miracle…! As expected of ma’am Witch…!”
Good — Noel is singing my praises, which means moving my hair went unseen and worked. The vines move however I want and I can make them as fine or as thick as I like, which makes them very easy to work with.
And while letting drops fall onto the girl, an idea comes to me. …Right — if I could produce medicine directly through the vine parts, that would solve everything, wouldn’t it.