The Silver Witch Exiled to the West

The charge was obscenity. The victim is a teenager. The plaintiff is the Holy Light Church. Sitting in the dock was a silver-haired witch who was too beautiful to be true. Gwinxus - the Winter Witch, the successor of the four-hundred-year blood feud, the blood descendant recognized by Dracula himself. He was originally working peacefully in a tavern, but was dragged into the whirlpool of trial by a report. She didn't even bother to give a defense, and admitted it casually, as if the crime of "molesting a minor" was no different from a "fan meeting" - after all, the people waiting in line for autographs had already lined up from the interrogation room to the end of the corridor. Exile in the West. Compared to burning at the stake, this is the best outcome the "friends" can achieve. Just before his exile, the informer himself arrived. St. Stephen Ariel VI, a sixteen-year-old noble daughter, full of majesty and exquisiteness. She reported her because her childhood sweetheart—the brave young man named Eric—had been haunted all day since he met Gwinxus, as if his soul had been taken away. "You have to cure him." Gwinxus almost laughed angrily. You were the one responsible for the crime and the exile, and now you want me to help you repair your white moonlight? But the witch finally nodded. Maybe it's boredom, maybe it's because she doesn't mind having too much to do, maybe it's because the girl's brown eyes hide much more than worry about Eric. Thus, a journey of exile begins - a silver-haired witch, a noble lady, a contract that is unclear whether it is a restraint or a bond, and a journey to the west, to a world of gunfire and sand.