The Speedrun Manual of Miss Witch - Chapter 12

Ciel was startled and instinctively bolted a few steps forward, her hand unconsciously reaching for the canvas bag slung over her left shoulder.

The gun… it’s gone?!

She turned back and saw the masked figure in the High Priestess robe, now sitting casually on one of the prayer benches. The figure was curiously examining an old revolver in their hand.

“Little girl, why would you bring something so dangerous into a church?” The masked person tilted their head slightly, looking toward Ciel. “Are you here to rob the church?”

Ciel froze in place, her body stiff. At that moment, she was certain—the masked figure before her was a transcendent. There was a 90% chance this was High Priestess Uris, the one described in Duven’s research notes.

“High Priestess, you’ve frightened her. I know this child—she’s the sister of Lichie, one of our believers. Her name is Ciel. She’s been here before, about two years ago,” Priest Mel walked over to Ciel, gently patting her shoulder as she offered reassurance. “It’s alright, child, don’t be nervous.”

“Just a little joke…” The masked figure, Uris, casually placed the revolver on the bench beside her and extended both hands toward Ciel. “Come here, little girl. Let me take a good look at you.”

The strange gesture left Ciel unsure whether she should approach. Just then, Priest Mel lightly patted her back and spoke softly, “Go ahead, it’s alright.”

There was no running now. Fortunately, this was only a simulation; nothing that happened here could hurt her in reality.

Ciel cautiously inched toward the masked figure, one step at a time, all the while calculating in her mind how to use 【Death Reversal】 if she were to die instantly in the simulation, maximizing the Fate Points she could gain.

When she finally got close enough, Ciel noticed the masked figure’s hands—pale, slender fingers with soft tips, the hands of someone who had never done hard labor. These were the hands of an aristocrat or a merchant.

She watched as those hands moved toward her, then pressed against her, starting from her forehead and slowly moving down to her chin, where they gently caressed her chin for a moment.

“What a beautiful little girl…” The masked figure smiled, lifting the hood lined with silver embroidery. A cascade of silvery-white, slightly wavy hair spilled out.

She withdrew her hands and placed them on her mask, removing it with a delicate motion. Beneath it was a face so finely sculpted it seemed carved by an artist—a face both sacred and heart-achingly fragile. Her eyes, however, remained firmly shut, even after the mask was removed, evoking an air of divine mystery and vulnerability.

Thinking back, the mask didn’t seem to have openings for the eyes either.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Uris—Uris Mora—the High Priestess of the Church of the Savior Goddess.”

So this really is High Priestess Uris… Ciel thought as she studied the beautiful face before her.

Based on Duven’s notes, Ciel had always imagined the High Priestess Uris to be a strict, middle-aged woman—serious, devout, but approachable. She never expected her to look like a vibrant girl of about seventeen, radiating youthful allure.

“My name is Ciel.” Ciel lowered her head slightly in a gesture of respect.

At first, she had thought the woman was some kind of pervert—grabbing her and touching her face without warning. But after Uris removed her mask, Ciel immediately understood.

The woman was blind, not a pervert.

“Priest Mel, could you escort us to the small chapel in the side corridor? I have some questions for this girl,” Uris turned to Priest Mel and asked.

“At your service.”

Mel led Uris through the side corridor, with Ciel following nervously behind. The revolver was still lying on the prayer bench outside.

They passed through the side corridor, where Mel opened a door to reveal a small chapel.

This was a private prayer space, often used by important individuals for personal prayers or small ceremonies. The room was carpeted, with a small altar and a statue of the Goddess at its center. It was a highly private setting.

Once Uris and Ciel had entered, Mel closed the door behind them. The chapel immediately grew silent, with only the sound of their breathing filling the space.

“Could you help me to the bench over there?” Uris smiled and extended her hand toward Ciel.

“Sure.” Ciel nodded and took the offered hand, guiding her to the prayer bench in front of the altar. She watched as Uris sat down.

“Come, sit beside me.” Uris patted the spot next to her, signaling Ciel to sit.

Once Ciel had seated herself, Uris suddenly spoke, “Let me take another good look at you.”

Ciel: “?”

In that moment, she mentally overturned her earlier conclusion—”She’s not a pervert”—and put it back under serious reconsideration.

“You already looked at me earlier,” Ciel replied flatly.

“Through touch, I can sense what’s in your heart, feel your pain…” Uris lowered her head slightly, her expression dimming. “I’m sorry—I can’t see anything.”

“Alright…” Seeing her expression, Ciel felt a twinge of guilt.

It wasn’t that Ciel discriminated against people with disabilities or intended to reopen old wounds—it was just hard to associate a transcendent being with blindness. She instinctively thought of them as extraordinary individuals, not ordinary people with disabilities.

Ciel took her slender wrist and guided Uris’s hands to her cheeks.

Then, she watched as Uris cupped her cheeks and began pinching the soft flesh on either side, gently pulling it outward in small, playful motions.

Uris seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

Ciel: “…”

“High Priestess, may I ask what you wanted to speak to me about?” Ciel asked, her tone calm, though in her mind she had already labeled Uris as a certified pervert.

“Oh, quite a few things.” Uris continued to knead Ciel’s cheeks as she spoke. “Why did you bring a gun to the church? Why do I feel as if you’ve suffered the pain of dying multiple times? And how do you know my name?”

“The gun is just for self-defense. As for the second question, I don’t know how to answer that,” Ciel gently shook her head, then glanced at her canvas bag and continued, “For the last question, you’ll understand if you look at this.”

Ciel reached into her bag and pulled out the two notebooks, handing them to Uris.

“Mm-hmm…” Uris released her right hand, while her left hand continued to pinch Ciel’s cheek. At the same time, her right hand reached for the two notebooks.

When she touched Thomas’s diary, her expression remained unchanged, but the moment her hand landed on Duven’s research notes, her previously smiling face froze instantly.

Uris finally let go of Ciel’s cheek, took the research notebook, and carefully ran her fingers over its leather cover, tracing the embossed gold lettering with her touch.

“Could you read it to me, Miss Ciel?” Uris asked solemnly, holding the notebook with both hands as she extended it to Ciel. Her expression had grown serious—none of her earlier playfulness remained.