Chapter 149
Chapter 149
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: The Debtor Witch (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sharon clearly remembered the last day she spent in Gehenna, a day she could pass with a peaceful heart.
Evergreen's Self-Generating Magic was elemental magic based on Tarbar's five elements.
That day's experiment involved using an elemental magic circle to accelerate the growth of her stigma, which had yet to fully activate. It was a spell formula designed for just that purpose.
It was also the final step for Sharon—who had inherited an incomplete stigma from her predecessor—to proudly ascend to the 20th hierarchy, just like her master.
"Huu... Alright."
The ground had been firmly packed after days of sprinkling it with salt and purified water.
Five minutes to midnight, when mana in the atmosphere reached its peak abundance.
And the offerings she had meticulously gathered over months were flawless.
Sharon gazed down at the magic circle she had prepared, clutching her wand tightly with a tense expression.
The rhombus-shaped array stretched toward the four cardinal directions, drawn with a mixture of her own blood and saliva over time.
At each vertex lay an altar for offerings, shaped in perfect circles.
Magic was fundamentally a discipline of calculations and formulas, but it was also one of symbols and rituals.
Evergreen's elemental magic placed such heavy emphasis on ritual—earning it a reputation for being old-fashioned and stuffy—that the choice of offerings held paramount importance.
No matter how precisely the spell formula was calculated, the manifested mystery varied greatly depending on the sacrifice offered.
Sharon thus made one final check of the items on the altars.
Even those that appeared haphazardly placed embodied optimal symbolism in their precise positions.
"Alright, let's do this."
On the eastern altar of the rhombus: Apas (Water), governing the ritual's order and flow.
She offered lapis lazuli purchased at great expense from the Red Roof Salon, along with pristine, high-quality coral.
On the western altar: Tejas (Fire), governing connection and transmission.
Black powder mixed from charcoal and sulfur, plus topaz—the stone known as fire's embodiment.
On the southern altar: Prithvi (Earth), governing balance and foundation.
A handful of soil mingled with wheat ears, blended with peridots as tiny as grains of rice.
On the northern altar: Vayu (Wind), governing change and manifestation.
The white mane of a mare untouched by breeding, and a crystal stone long exposed to moonlight breezes.
Every preparation was perfect.
Sharon knew she couldn't craft anything more flawless, no matter how hard she racked her brain.
"It's fine. Stay calm... I can do this."
The clock now read two minutes to midnight.
The ritual was set to begin precisely at twelve.
Her cold reason warned that her studies were still insufficient.
Yet failing to fully manifest the stigma passed down from her predecessor was a humiliation Sharon could not accept.
To erase that stain, this degree of risk was utterly necessary.
At the rhombus's central altar: Akasha (Space), the realm where all rituals would manifest.
Sharon stepped into its heart.
She would offer herself as the sacrifice—and in the end, be reborn anew.
Sharon did not believe in God.
But beneath that windless night sky...
For the first time, she offered a prayer to some unknowable entity.
"If only this ends... then I..."
No more fingers pointed at her as a premature failure.
No more sneers branding her a defective good.
She would be reborn a complete witch, having perfectly inherited the stigma.
The moment arrived.
The emerald embedded in Sharon's wand shone with brilliant light.
Sharon intoned the chant she had recited countless times before.
And...
What was the mistake?
Did the offerings lack quality?
Or had impatience led to a lapse in mana control?
Or had she overreached, preparing offerings too grand for her skill and lost control?
The outcome was catastrophic.
The ritual's waves, emanating from the magic circle across Cloud Mushroom Village, massively boosted the growth of nearby acorns—instead of Sharon's stigma.
She lost consciousness at the sight of thousands of them sprouting in unison, swelling into mighty oaks that crushed her mansion.
2.
Witches tended to be wealthy.
Inheriting a stigma naturally came with property transfer—and most worldly things gained value over time.
Sharon had inherited a vast fortune from her predecessor, Evergreen.
A vineyard near Paris, purchased over 120 years prior, had ballooned in worth when developed into city land.
So even the day after the accident, Sharon felt little worry.
If she'd wrecked the house, she'd simply pay for it.
What gnawed at her instead was the lingering self-loathing of failing to fully inherit the stigma.
But a problem arose.
Had her failed experiment merely demolished her own mansion, no issue would have surfaced.
Unfortunately, Cloud Mushroom Village housed Border Town's witches—and the rampant oaks demolished not just homes, but several workshops too.
One witch saw research elixirs shatter to pieces.
Another watched a painstakingly etched magic circle reduced to unrecognizable ruin.
Seventeen witches, their magical studies thrown into chaos, filed a class-action suit against Sharon.
Even after liquidating her inheritance and scraping together every coin she could, Sharon fell short of full compensation.
Left penniless, all that remained was a staggering claim from Central City Hall: roughly 90,000 gold coins.
The figure on the document had been incomprehensible in its enormity.
Sharon faced two paths.
Flee Gehenna for the present world under cover of night—or borrow the funds to settle damages, then repay the debt over time.
In the end, she humbled herself before several nobles, signing debt notes.
Count Yesod, proprietor of Revana Grand Bathhouse; Duke Erelim, head of the Truth and Names Academic Society; and finally, the notoriously affluent Count Gemernai.
Using her citizenship and stigma as collateral, she borrowed a total of 90,213 gold coins.
Repaying that sum from within Gehenna was impossible—so Sharon accepted temporary exile and departed for the present world.
This was ten years ago.
"Ilun Musk, you backstabbing bastard!"
Ten years later, at the convenience store counter.
Sharon gnashed her teeth, glaring at the crypto coin that had tanked due to someone's whims.
Fury boiled over.
"Said I could buy a car with this... We're going to Mars... Dream currency..."
Yet overnight, he'd flipped the script, dumped it all, and crashed the market!
The rich were the worst—this guy even human?
Sharon balled her fists, trembling.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
Of course, Sharon wasn't a fool; she hadn't dumped her life savings into virtual currency.
Still, with faint hopes, she'd funneled scrimped part-time wages—about five million won principal.
By the time she clocked in and checked her phone, it was down to 3.5 million.
And the trend screamed further drops.
In a blink, 1.5 million-plus had vanished.
"Ah... Headache..."
Dizzy, Sharon pressed her forehead.
Cut losses now? Or HODL for a rebound?
She'd planned to cash out at exactly seven million—but this?
"My dakgangjeong... tteokbokki... kimbap... sundae... give 'em back..."
Illusions of her planned feast blurred skyward and faded.
Sighing deeply at the empty counter, Sharon noted closing time nearing—and a sudden thought struck.
"He didn't come for smokes today..."
Siwoo, that is.
Her shift ran 6 p.m. to midnight.
Unclear if routines synced, but he always showed during that window.
Truth be told, yesterday marked their first formal revelation of identities—but Sharon had clocked him long before.
How could she forget? Handsome face aside, the eyepatch guy buying smokes and cola daily was memorable.
Yesterday's chat revealed a fate as cursed as hers.
A man turned witch? Wild. Magic-proficient enough to hunt homunculi? Wilder.
And not just self-serving—he risked it all for others too. Major points.
Details fuzzy, but he'd comped king crab. Good dude, for sure~
One snag: his parting words about covering her debt.
That crossed a line.
Even as a broke witch now, Sharon held genuine pride in her craft.
No need for one-sided charity like some sob story aid case.
"Told him not to sweat it."
Not malicious anyway—and he'd apologized on the spot. No hard feelings.
Yet no sign of him.
He seemed earnest, kind-hearted; she'd wanted to share tips, but now felt awkward.
"Was I too prickly yesterday?"
Handing off to the next shift, she stepped out front—and spotted a familiar silhouette puffing a smoke in the nearby alley.
Sharon grinned and strode over.
"What're you doing here?"
She poked his shoulder.
Siwoo jolted.
More awkward than their first meet—yesterday clearly weighed on him.
"Sharon-ssi."
"Casual's fine—Sharon, easy talk."
"Uh..."
"Same boat here. No stiff formalities between magic path walkers in similar straits?"
"That's just... uncomfortable for me. Somehow..."
"Somehow wanna rub in that I'm older?"
"Ah, no. Not that."
Her light tease left him flustered.
Adorably so.
"If not, casual it is."
"...Got it."
He scratched his head, still uneasy.
Sharon chuckled.
Lacking boldness? Too pure? Whatever—she liked it.
"Figured I'd apologize for yesterday's rash words."
"Eh, said it's cool."
"Still... too hasty. Really sorry."
"Whoa, easy."
Her playful vibe aside, his solemn bow flustered her.
No real grudge anyway—she hastily pulled him up.
"Not instead, but... mind if I tag along posting flyers today? Scout for homunculi too."
Sharon beamed at his tentative offer, nodding eagerly.
"Sure!"