"Lift the cloth from your child."
"Following your command, great Witch."
The wife carefully lifted the bloodstained cloth from the girl in her arms.
In her embrace, was a beautiful girl.
However, atop her delicate neck, a rose bloomed.
The rose stem, full of poisonous thorns, extended infinitely like a needle, piercing her collarbone, legs, cheeks, firmly rooted in her fragile heart.
Thump! Thump!
A cloth gag stuffed in the girl's mouth prevented her from biting her tongue in agony and committing suicide.
The Witch gently tugged at the flower, attempting to provoke a wail from the girl!
Yet, the girl before her showed no expression.
The anguish that could make grown men fall to their knees and weep elicited no response from her.
She had adapted to this boundless pain.
"Congenital Blood Flower Disease..."
The Witch took another sip of her tea.
The husband anxiously asked:
"My Lady? Our offering, Lady Witch, could it be exchanged for medicine?"
The Witch replied:
