Chapter 33
Chapter 33
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Ars Magna Town (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Amelia and Siwoo climbed into the carriage.
It was a two-seater facing each other, and the lack of a coachman made it clear this was Sophia's carriage too.
He'd figured she'd just toss him some academy storeroom clothes since she was giving him an outfit, but heading out like this? Straight to the outside.
The carriage jolted as it passed through the academy's main gate.
"Where are we headed?"
"The tailor's."
"I see."
But wasn't a tailor for women's clothes?
She said she'd give him clothes, but she wasn't planning to have him fitted for a custom dress or something, right?
Siwoo seriously wondered if this was some new form of torment, but he quickly dismissed the delusion.
"......"
"......"
This space felt suffocating.
Maybe because there were only two of them in this cramped area, forced to stare right at each other.
Ever since that incident at the inn last time, Siwoo had felt awkward around Amelia.
It wasn't so much emotional turmoil from the "whoa" moment—it stemmed from a vague sense of confusion.
Sure, secretly peeking at her chest without her knowing carried a twinge of guilt, but that wasn't his biggest worry.
The real confusion was why her autonomous defense hadn't triggered on him.
Even if his dislike for Amelia hadn't reached the threshold for autonomous defense...
The fact that nothing happened right up until he touched her chest suggested her subconscious had allowed it, didn't it?
That was the logical conclusion.
But Amelia, the epitome of a noble witch? Allowing a mere slave? That question threw everything back into fog.
Without asking her outright, he'd never know, but spilling the whole truth? Her reaction and the risk were obvious. Pointless.
He just didn't get it.
Sophia, who knew her best, had called Amelia childish, but even that didn't make sense to him.
In the end, he'd have to wait for time to sort it out—or finish that door-opening spell and escape. One or the other.
As he silently watched the scenery roll by outside the window, Amelia cleared her throat.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Siwoo asked,
"Ahem...!"
"Is something bothering you?"
"Caretaker, any health issues?"
Now that he was her exclusive, was she pretending to care?
Pretending all the previous harassments never happened?
Her sudden attitude shift lately was hard for Siwoo to keep up with.
"Like contagious diseases or skin conditions. Speak up now if there are."
"None."
People could be a bit grubby sometimes, but saying it to his face like that.
His sweet house must have shocked Amelia pretty badly.
Still, Siwoo showered with cold water religiously.
Thankfully, he'd never had itches or anything.
"Got it."
"Yes."
"........"
"........"
The two fell silent again.
The awkward conversation pattern they'd repeated endlessly these past few days.
He felt nauseous without even eating.
Ignoring the awkward vibe, the carriage rattled on smoothly.
Then a certain sight caught Siwoo's eye.
"Huh?"
Tall, white buildings packed densely within a massive fortress came into view.
The ivory-carved walls exuded elegance, their grandeur impressive even from a distance.
In Gehenna, only one town was enclosed by such a fortress.
Not Lenormand Town, not Tarot Town.
Which meant...
"Associate Professor, is the carriage heading to Ars Magna Town?"
"Yes."
Siwoo's jaw dropped.
The carriage crossed the drawbridge over the moat and entered the gates.
2.
Ars Magna Town.
Its full name was eight syllables long, so it was often shortened to White Town.
The white walls encircling the town had a special alloy treatment, giving off a soft milky glow in the light.
To describe its features first: Gehenna's central city, the richest district, the most beautiful and important town.
Only titled witches could reside in Ars Magna Town.
Thus: three duchesses, seven countesses, thirty-two baronesses. That was the entirety of White Town's residents.
Yet it housed Gehenna's most vital facilities.
The Central City Hall handled Gehenna's minor administrative tasks, right next to the Tree of Sephirot, the real decision-making body.
Excluding Lenormand Town's gold bank, that covered all of Gehenna's government offices. Nothing much to note.
But any witch with money flocked here for the top-tier luxury facilities.
The First Red Roof Salon, social club for 15th rank witches and above.
Countess Yesod's Levana Grand Bathhouse.
Flora Tailor Shop, trendsetter of Gehenna fashion.
Gemernai Magic Tool Main Store, dealing only in the finest artifacts.
All the extravagant, high-end spots witches went crazy for were packed in.
Common folk couldn't enter without permission, and even mid-rank witches felt crushed by the intimidation from the moment they stepped in. No way a slave like Siwoo had ever been here.
Siwoo gaped at the passing scenery from the carriage.
First time seeing so many witches at once.
Few compared to the avenue wide enough for eight carriages abreast, but even a rough count exceeded fifty.
"Wow...."
Forgetting Amelia was there, Siwoo gawked around with his mouth open.
To sum up Ars Magna Town's majestic vista in one phrase: a city from myth.
Gothic, Baroque, Rococo—buildings from eras before rebar and concrete.
Stack them as high, vast, and pristine as possible, and you'd approximate this town.
To create such beauty without modern materials—Siwoo could hardly believe his eyes.
"It's truly beautiful."
He'd thought Lenormand Town stunning at first sight, but this was another level.
If Lenormand's buildings were world heritage sites, White Town's were world mysteries.
No magic, no way to build them.
"You think so?"
Beyond access to magical studies, seeing such a beautiful city was one of Gehenna's rare perks.
Feeling like he was on an outing for once, his mood lifted.
"Is your mansion here too, Associate Professor?"
"Yes."
Living here seemed as good as Hannam-dong. He suddenly wondered about the Merrygold family estate.
"I'd love to see it sometime."
"I've never been there myself."
An unexpected reply.
Come to think of it, Siwoo knew next to nothing about Amelia.
He knew what she hated, when she got mad, her sulky faces, how to gauge her anger meter—survival essentials.
But what she liked, when she was happy, her past? Nothing.
Curiosity struck, so he asked.
It'd been ages since they'd had a conversation without awkward pauses. Nice change.
Seeing novel things loosened him up; the talk flowed.
"Why not?"
"I've lived in a forest cabin with my mentor since before becoming a witch."
"The forest? Near which town?"
"No town. Just a pretty forest thick with tulip trees."
Not every spot in Gehenna was a populated town.
Some were farmlands, pastures, or undeveloped woods.
Amelia's old home was probably one such place.
"It's not as beautiful as it used to be now."
Her profile looked somehow lonely as she said it.
As Siwoo opened his mouth to respond, Amelia cut in.
"We're here. Get out."
The two horses, guiding the driverless carriage, halted before a lavish building.
The sign read: Flora Tailor Shop.
It resembled a church steeple, five stories tall at least.
Excitement for his new clothes mixed with unease at getting fitted here. Siwoo stepped forward.
3.
Amelia knocked twice on the door with the knocker, and the massive iron door—at least five meters high—swung open on its own.
The tailor shop Siwoo had pegged as five stories from outside was actually single-story.
Just with a ridiculously high ceiling, Gothic chapel-style.
And lining one wall up to that lofty ceiling: shelves crammed full.
Colorful fabrics filled every inch without gaps.
Red carpet blanketed the floor.
Siwoo glanced around, taking in the interior.
Like a hotel lobby—hardly the humble spot for custom dresses.
Then a woman emerged from a corner.
Bold dress slitting up one leg, long pipe in her mouth, hair swept over one eye. Incredibly sexy.
And probably a witch.
No flinching at Amelia—just puffing smoke.
"The dress from ten years ago. Drew inspiration from snowflakes then. I think Sophia bought it... You're that Merrygold, huh?"
"Yes."
Her intent was unclear.
Not customer service, not chit-chat.
The witch puffed smoke again.
Maybe not expecting a reply at all.
"Late on intros. You know, but formally: I'm Flora Arabesque, the Thread-Weaving Witch. That outfit you're wearing? My work."
"I want a suit fitted."
"Suit? Where to wear it. Modern world? Gehenna?"
"Here."
Flora cut in mid-thought, as if struck by inspiration.
"Perfect timing—Turkish mohair wool just arrived. Had something in mind. I'll weave you something gorgeous."
Siwoo had a custom suit once before.
Necessary for academic conferences.
Took nearly two hours of questions, then over fifteen days to make.
But this witch wasn't even measuring.
As Siwoo marveled, Amelia pointed at him with a fingertip.
"Not me. A suit for this man."
Interest lit in Flora's eyes.