When Roland returned to the castle, it was already dark and snowing heavily again.
He went into the bedroom and removed his coat. He shook off the snow at the collar, and hung it on the hanger beside the fireplace.
"Your Highness, don't you think this matter was handled too hastily?"
Nightingale appeared in front of the prince.
"Nana?" Roland poured a glass of ale for Nightingale and himself. Although the wine was much bitterer than the beer he was used to in his past life, he had gradually become accustomed to its taste.
Nightingale took the cup and held it in her hand but did not drink—she was waiting for the prince's answer.
"There's no better time than now." Roland downed his wine and refilled his cup. "If we want to develop Nana's power before the Months of Demons, we can't conceal her identity as a witch. She can instantly heal fatal injuries in a way more efficient than the ordinary herbal medicines or bloodletting therapy. I'm sure people will realize this."
