Surviving as a Witch in a World that Hunts Heretics-Chapter 4 : Chapter 4

Chapter 4. The Priest’s Summons
After bidding farewell to the Priest, Leticia supported her Uncle John on the road home.
As they walked, she couldn’t help but glance back, wanting to see the end of what the villagers had called “the witch.”
Even the pyre had already collapsed, covered in blackened ash and charcoal, within which seemed to be mixed fragments of scorched bone, still smoking.
Beside the pyre were a few villagers, their faces full of disgust as they cleaned.
They looked repulsed by the witch’s remains, as if even those were things that brought misfortune.
“What a strange and cruel world......”
Leticia turned her head back and muttered.
A breeze carrying black smoke brushed across the tip of her nose. That charred stench stung her nose.
“Ah, ah, ah...... ahchoo!”
......
After the execution of the witch, Innsmouth Village returned once more to its normal rhythm.
The two times Priest Marshall had helped had allowed Uncle John to pass through this crisis. At Leticia’s strong insistence, he also gave up his plan of working as a night laborer at the mine.
In truth, because of his illness, Uncle John had already been absent from work for a long time and had been struck from the rolls by the overseer there.
Although Uncle John felt it was a pity to lose a source of income, Leticia felt this was better.
If he returned to that life, another collapse was only a matter of time.
“Child, come.”
After finishing chores and returning home, John beckoned to Leticia.
“Mm, Uncle, what is it?”
Standing by the window, Leticia turned, smiling as she asked. As she left the window, she stepped several times on the ground, kicking up dust to cover a twig lying there.
Ever since coming to this world, though conditions were poor, Leticia had kept a habit—practicing writing.
The characters of this world were completely different from those of her own. From her daily observations, the writing used here resembled Latin letters somewhat.
But there were few places where writing could be seen. Only at the church could she glimpse traces of possible words (the church’s scriptures were not allowed for villagers to read). So Leticia hadn’t been able to collect enough samples to learn.
Though this body carried something like an echo of soul memory that allowed her to understand spoken language and communicate, the original Leticia herself likely had not been literate......
Which wasn’t strange. Given these conditions, this level of development, for a child in a remote village to know words would itself be strange......
So at present she was still in the dark.
The writing she practiced on the ground, of course, was her own world’s writing.
Not because she was studious, but because, when seeing those words she had written, she felt a sense of—so she really had “transmigrated”......
This dull and grinding life really wore her down, leaving almost no time for thought.
She quickly swept aside her thoughts and put on a bright smile to welcome her uncle back.
“Hehe, nothing much. I just brought you something.”
On Uncle John’s gaunt, square face was a gentle smile. In his sunken eyes a kindly light flickered. “Here, this is what Uncle traded from a passing traveling merchant.”
Traveling merchants, as the name suggested, were moving shops.
In her past life, Leticia had played some single-player games. In the field maps, she would meet such merchants, from whom she could get supplies, items, weapons, equipment.
But here, traveling merchants had no such things. They only followed the kingdom’s main roads, passing through towns and villages, trading with residents.
They also accepted barter, indirectly promoting exchange between regions~
Taking the item from John’s hand, Leticia examined it carefully. She barely recognized that it was a hair ornament for pinning up hair.
It was made entirely of wood, workmanship rough, feeling coarse to the touch. Simple patterns had been carved into it, serving as its only decoration.
“Uncle, this?”
“Ah, just a simple little trinket.”
Uncle John gave a light cough. “I thought, Leticia, you’re a growing girl now. You should dress yourself up a little. Always being like a boy isn’t too good, is it?”
Though he had recovered, John was left with lingering sickness, coughing from time to time.
“Uh......”
Leticia looked at the hairpin in her hand, her heart mixed with emotions.
She truly had never thought of needing such a thing......
Leaving aside the fact that conditions were harsh, with no need to exchange for items that didn’t improve life, there was her own mindset.
After living as a man for twenty years, losing all her old friends, now being told it was the age to groom and adorn herself?
Who could accept that!
“Thank you, Uncle...... but, is this really okay?”
Leticia asked carefully. “Uncle, what did you use to trade for it?”
“Nothing much, just a copper coin.”
John waved it off casually and coughed. “Mm, child, let Uncle help you wear it.”
“Uh, alright then. Thank you, Uncle.”
Forced to accept, Leticia felt a strange discomfort in her heart, but hidden behind the strands of hair covering her eyes, she concealed her awkwardness well.
“There.”
Her uncle’s rough hand left her cheek. Stepping back, he looked her over. “Mm, not bad. Very pretty.”
“If that's so, then that’s great.”
If there had been a mirror, Leticia would have seen the classic forced smile on her face.
“Then, Uncle, did you come back at this time just for this?”
Leticia looked at the sky outside, quietly calculating the time. “It’s only just past noon, isn’t this still the time for working the fields?”
This season, wasn’t that what should be done?
It wasn’t that Leticia didn’t want to help John, but first, she really knew nothing of farm work. Even after two months, she was still fumbling. Second......
This village strangely had no animal husbandry, only traditional agriculture. The villagers’ tools—she couldn’t lift a single one.
Who knew if the handles of those sickles were filled with iron? No matter how she tried, she could barely lift them, let alone carry them into the fields......
Perhaps it was her physique too. Compared with other children, whether boys or girls, Leticia’s body was smaller. If others were stalks of bamboo, she was just the thin pith inside......
And Uncle John, for these reasons, had kept her home.
He said she had once fallen gravely ill and nearly died, which explained her frailty.
“Mm, I’ll be going back soon. I just came this time because there’s something to tell you.”
Uncle John nodded. “Priest Marshall sent word, asking some of the village children to go to his chapel. You are among them, Leticia.”
“......Ah? What?”
Leticia was stunned for quite a while before she asked back.
Summoning some of the children? And she was on the list?
She didn’t know why, but the first image in her mind was Priest Marshall in the chapel, by candlelight, knife and fork in hand, with the children as his meal......
Crap crap crap crap...... what was she imagining!
Leticia pressed her forehead hard, pushing down those terrifying thoughts.
It seemed the witch’s burning had left her with a short-term psychological shadow she couldn’t erase......
Even making her fear Priest Marshall a little.
Still, going through such an event once was useful. It let her grow, and observe others.
That Priest Marshall—though appearing kindly, Leticia felt that was only one side.
When executing the witch, his rage, his madness, his cruelty, had left a deep impression.
Who could say which face was the real Priest Marshall? But Leticia knew: in this place drenched with religious terror, to be accused of heresy was to see one’s life end.
It was like something she had once heard long ago (likely in her past life) about how the Inquisition judged heretics:
If a man stood before you and spoke hesitantly, then he was fabricating excuses—he was a heretic! If he blinked, then he was nervous under questioning—he was a heretic! If he answered fluently, then he had prepared with accomplices—he was a heretic! If he ran, then he was harboring the devil, guilty with a guilty conscience—he was a heretic! If he stayed, then the devil in him was suppressed by the Lord’s power—he was a heretic!
Whatever happened, they were always heretics, nothing but paranoid madness and irrationality.
This was what Leticia now understood about this world.
A world where one had to be careful, always cautious, just to live.
If her secret—that her soul did not belong to this world—was ever discovered, she guessed, no, she was sure she would be branded a heretic and tied to the pyre.
The thought of such an end made her shudder.
So no matter what, she must always be cautious, Leticia!
“Leticia?”
Hearing her uncle’s voice, Leticia’s face turned serious at once. “Nothing. I understand, Uncle. I’ll go right away.”