Chapter 219: The Notice Board

"Oh, right, Jon! Just a warning, whatever you do, don't show your magic in front of the villagers," Gaston warned with sincere concern. "If they see it, they'll have you tied up and burned alive."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you're telling me ordinary villagers can capture and burn witches? Why wouldn't the witches just use magic to defend themselves?"

To Jon, it made little sense. A witch using magic in front of a mob should be like someone pulling a gun, maybe not enough to defeat a crowd, but definitely enough to intimidate. He couldn't believe the villagers would just charge mindlessly like brainwashed soldiers.

"You don't know?" Gaston said, surprised. "Witches have a fatal weakness—they're terrified of iron. Iron weapons can cause them serious harm. You're not afraid of iron?"

Jon shook his head. "Why would I be scared of something like that?!"

But witches being vulnerable to iron… that sounded oddly familiar.

"No, this is real! I saw it myself," Gaston insisted in a low voice. "Even the king himself confirmed it."

As they talked, the trees around them began thinning, until finally they emerged from the forest. A weathered village appeared on the horizon.

"There it is—that's our village," Gaston said. "Sorry it's a bit weary."

"It's fine. As long as there's a place to rest, I'm good," Jon replied.

"Hey, look—it's Gaston!" a villager shouted.

People turned and waved warmly. Especially the village girls, who seemed excited at his return.

"Looks like you're quite popular," Jon remarked with a grin.

Gaston shook his head. "The king once conscripted men from this village, I was one of them. I was the only one who came back alive. I earned honors, so the village sees me as a hero. Plus, whenever I hunt something big, I share the meat with the neighbors."

Jon glanced around and asked, "Is there a starvation going on?"

"Yeah," Gaston said with a sigh. "The snowfall's lasted longer than anyone can remember. I've never seen it go on this long. Some say it's the prince's curse."

"The prince's curse?" Jon asked, puzzled.

Gaston pointed toward the far end of the forest. "There's a castle beyond those woods. A prince lives there. They say he was cruel, stained with the blood of countless innocents. Eventually, he was cursed. But… these villagers are innocent. Why should they suffer for his sins?"

As he spoke of the castle, a flicker of pain crossed Gaston's face, but he quickly masked it.

Jon followed his gaze toward the distant structure. His eyes narrowed, and a faint, greedy glint flashed within them.

A cursed prince, drenched in guilt and mystery? Worth paying a visit.

Just then, the village square stirred with commotion. A crowd had gathered around the notice board.

Two individuals stood nearby—both dressed in fine clothes, though clearly servants by their demeanor. They were pinning a new announcement to the board.

"The castle's hiring more servants again?"

"But didn't they just hire some a few days ago?"

"No idea… but I wasn't selected last time. Gotta try again!"

"They said you get fresh bread every day. That's better than starving here!"

The villagers murmured excitedly among themselves.

Jon turned to Gaston. "What's this about?"

Gaston explained, "It's that castle I mentioned. They've been recruiting servants lately. They promise food, just bread every day. For people here, who can barely fill their stomachs, that sounds like a dream."

Jon thought back to the chatter he overheard. "They said this isn't the first recruitment… and now they're back again?"

"Yeah," Gaston nodded. "They've been coming often."

"That's… strange. Wouldn't they normally hire a batch all at once?" Jon asked, then glanced at him. "You don't seem interested."

"Not in the slightest," Gaston said coldly. "Whatever happens in that cursed place has nothing to do with me, and I want no part of it."

He turned and walked toward his house, clearly done with the topic.

Jon didn't press further. It was obvious Gaston didn't want to talk about it.

They arrived at Gaston's home, a worn-down building, though noticeably larger and sturdier than most others in the village.

Inside, Gaston cared for an elderly man, his father, who was bedridden and suffering from dementia. The old man's first words upon seeing Gaston were, "Who are you?"

It was clear Gaston held the household together on his own. He didn't seem to have any plans to marry or start a family.

Despite his humble means, Gaston offered Jon some food—coarse black bread and a bowl of fish soup. The bread was dry and the soup reeked of raw fish, but it was the best Gaston could provide.

Jon accepted it gratefully. He didn't complain, even though his body's current energy reserves meant he could easily go days without eating. This was about respect, Gaston had offered what little he had with genuine hospitality.

That night, Jon stayed over. But the bed was stiff and uncomfortable, and he wasn't used to such conditions anymore. So he rose early the next morning.

He wasn't the only one up—many villagers were already out working. Yet despite the early start, the village felt lifeless, just like the forest surrounding it.

With nothing better to do, Jon wandered back to the notice board.

The crowd from yesterday had dispersed. He walked up and examined the recruitment poster. As Gaston had said, it offered food and work—but one detail caught Jon's eye.

The poster was signed by someone named Belle.

It sounded like a woman's name, and judging from the authority to post such a notice, she likely held some rank within the castle.

But before he could dwell on it further, another notice caught his attention.

Its bold headline read: "A Monster Rang the Bell and Stole My Child!"

The poster described a creature that had taken someone's child. No time or location was given, but the physical description was vivid.

The monster's body was misshapen—its limbs and torso like long, thin sticks. Its face was terrifying. And worst of all, it constantly emitted an eerie chiming, like a haunted bell.

"Interesting…" Jon murmured, studying the paper. Then he glanced at the bottom.

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