A shed had been added to the castle's back garden, surrounded by wooden planks, leaving only two holes for windows.

In the center of the shed was a square pool made of blue bricks, about three meters long and wide, filled with yellow soil. With the addition of a suitable amount of water, it was not only fire-resistant but also had a certain degree of plasticity; with a small shovel, one could dig out the desired shape. Several iron ingots were piled on top of the yellow soil—these were what Carter Lannis had dragged over from the blacksmith's shop.

Next to the pool was a well. Roland had his eye on this point, which was why he had people build the shed here.

However, as a laboratory, it was still too simple. He shook his head; what was put together in one night could not be considered ideal. The formal workshop would have to wait until Barov had collected the information before selecting a site and starting construction.

"How was it? Did you sleep well yesterday?"

He turned around, looked at Anna, who had a blank expression, and asked with a smile.

The witch's appearance was completely different from when she was in the prison—after being carefully cleaned, her flaxen, shoulder-length hair was smooth and lustrous. Although her skin had not been cared for, its youthfulness was an advantage, and the light-colored freckles on her nose added a touch of youthful vitality. Her figure was still thin, her slender body seemed to be able to be pushed over, but her cheeks had a ruddy color, and the bruises and marks on her neck were much lighter than yesterday. Roland suspected that the magical power, in addition to giving the witch magical abilities, also improved their physical qualities. At least in terms of recovery ability, Anna was much faster than ordinary people.

"I should have let you rest for a few more days after experiencing so many terrible things, but time is too tight, so I'll have to make it up to you later." Roland circled the girl, "Does this dress fit?"

The dress that Anna was wearing now was carefully selected from a variety of options by him—to satisfy his wicked taste. The full-body protective clothing of the ironworkers was too heavy and not suitable for her. And although the mage robes in the game looked high-end, they restricted movement everywhere, and the fully enclosed robe corners could easily catch sparks and turn into ashes. As for the maid outfit, hey, what could be more suitable than this?

Even if a real maid outfit hadn't appeared in this world yet, that wasn't a big problem; the work clothes of maids already had the prototype of later maid outfits. So Roland directly asked Tilly to tailor one of his own clothes according to Anna's figure, shortening the skirt, changing the long sleeves to short sleeves, changing the round collar to a folded collar, and adding a bow. The new witch uniform was born.

Paired with a pointed witch hat (custom-made), black long boots (ready-made), and a short cloak that didn't reach the knees (custom-made), a character that could only be seen in movies in the past was now standing vividly in front of Roland.

"Your Highness, what... what do you need me to do?"

Anna couldn't keep up with the thoughts of this great man in front of her; she felt like she was losing her ability to think. When she was put in a bag and dragged away in the dungeon, she thought that this cursed life would soon come to an end. But after taking off the hood, Anna found that what she saw was not a gallows or a guillotine, but a magnificent house. Then a bunch of people rushed in to undress and bathe her. From her armpits to her toes, not a single place was not scrubbed clean.

Then came the changing of clothes. She didn't expect that she would need someone to help her dress, and she didn't expect that the clothes could be so comfortable—they were soft against her skin, and she couldn't feel a trace of friction.

Finally, an old man with white beard came in. After ordering everyone to leave, he placed a contract in front of her. Only now did she understand that the person in the prison who said he wanted to hire her was actually the Fourth Prince of the kingdom, and that the word "hire" was not a joke. The contract clearly stated that if she worked for the prince, she would receive one gold dragon as remuneration each month.

Anna knew what a gold dragon meant. Her father worked in the mine all day long, and his salary was determined by the amount of ore produced. His best harvest was only one silver wolf. And one hundred silver wolves could be exchanged for one gold dragon, depending on whether the silver wolves were of sufficient quality.

So, what was her job, sleeping with the prince? Anna had indeed heard the maids whispering about this when she was bathing, but she didn't think she was worth the price. A bloodline corrupted by demons, a defiled person who willingly fell... Anyone who knew her true identity would only avoid her, even if the prince's curiosity was so strong that he wasn't afraid of demons, he wouldn't need to pay her any remuneration.

No one came to find her that night, and she fell asleep—it was the softest bed Anna had ever slept in, so much so that she fell asleep as soon as she lay down. When she opened her eyes the next day, it was already noon. Lunch was delivered to her room by someone: bread, cheese, and a steak. She had clearly planned to die—a person who had decided to give up on life, what else would they miss about this world? What was she originally thinking? But after putting the steak in her mouth, Anna couldn't help but shed tears.

The gravy and pepper mixed together and melted in her mouth, the strong spicy flavor mixed with a hint of sweetness repeatedly impacted her taste buds, and even after swallowing, it still filled her mouth... She suddenly felt that this world still had some beautiful things.

If she could eat such food every day, even when the demons were eating away at her body, she would have more courage to resist, right?

Standing in this wooden shed that was neither a palace nor a cage, she secretly made up her mind. Since the other party needed it, whether it was wearing such strange clothes or summoning that incredible power, she was willing to try it. So she asked again, but this time without hesitation.

"Your Highness, what do you need me to do?"

"For now, you need to control your power, practice it repeatedly until you can use it freely."

"You mean the devil's—"

"No, no, Miss Anna," Roland interrupted, "it's your power."

The witch blinked her beautiful blue eyes.

"Most people in the world are prejudiced against you, believing that the power of witches comes from demons and is extremely evil. In fact, they are wrong," Roland squatted down and looked the other person in the eye, "and you don't think so either, do you?"

He remembered Anna's chuckle in the dungeon. How could someone who considered themselves evil laugh with such sarcasm?

"I have never used it to hurt anyone," she said softly, "except for that robber."

"Resisting aggression is not a fault, you did very well. People fear you because they don't understand you—they know that constant training can create a strong warrior, but they don't know how to become a witch. Unknown power is always frightening."

"You're not afraid at all," Anna said.

"Because I know it belongs to you," Roland laughed, "If that robber also had such amazing power, I wouldn't dare to stand in front of him."

"Alright, let's get started," he said.