Chapter 580
Chapter 580
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 580
Chapter Title: Farce (2)
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1.
Dorothy adapted to witch society at a speed that surprised even herself.
Money was essential, even for magical research.
She expanded the arms manufacturing business she had inherited from her master.
As humanity advanced, the scale of wars grew larger, and the unit prices of the weapons used skyrocketed to eye-popping levels.
The arms business ballooned dozens of times over as well.
Her diligent magical research, squeezed in whenever she could, elevated her to the lofty heights of the 22nd Hierarchy.
She finally had the leisure to enjoy a relaxed comfort, free from her hunted life.
Even as Location Points were established and the pressures and regulations on Public Enemies intensified, she slipped through the cracks with flexibility, building up her own Public Enemy connections and factions.
Of course, it wasn't always a smooth ride.
Sometimes she was betrayed by witches from her own affiliation and struck hard in the back of the head. There were times she had to flee during massive purge operations.
By the time she belatedly realized that her life had been abnormal—and, by any standard of good and evil, clearly skewed toward evil—
it was after she had rolled around in a world filled with sword qi, her body caked in pitch-black soot.
There were no regrets or self-pity about it.
She didn't even feel the need to rationalize it.
If she hadn't lived like this, she would have died.
Ah.
Dorothy suddenly realized.
A life covered in ashes.
There was no reason she had to live.
She simply had no reason to die, either.
2.
"Apprentice witch? You?"
"Yeah, this kid."
Dorothy hadn't lived her entire life as a loner.
She had colleagues she met by weighing gains and losses, and even a few witches who could pass for decent friends.
An ancient witch who had lived for 1,000 years, the "Exile Who Was Never Exiled," the Deep Sea Witch Shalrit Nukelavi.
There was quite the thorny backstory to how they became close, but no need to explain it in exhausting detail.
In the end, it was just the clichéd tale of their values and personalities meshing well.
Dorothy gazed at the baby blinking up from its swaddling cloths.
About five months old, perhaps?
She was so tiny that she hardly seemed human.
"Cute, right? She cries with such energy all day long. She's definitely going to be a tough one."
Dorothy knew Shalrit had burrowed into the deepest abyss after her run-in with Kether Duke, but she hadn't expected her to bring back an apprentice witch in the meantime.
Had her weakened body softened her heart as well?
The once stoic Shalrit now gazed lovingly with a happy smile.
And she showed not even the slightest wariness toward Dorothy.
An easy weakness to exploit.
It was defenselessness incarnate.
If Dorothy attacked right now, she could kill Shalrit without any trouble and seize her Stigma.
She had no intention of doing so, but making that calculation was as habitual as slipping her left foot into her shoe first.
It was just something she did without thinking.
Innocent, pure eyes, utterly harmless.
Large navy-blue eyes blinked, then beamed a wide smile at Dorothy.
"Looks like she likes you."
Why was that?
Dorothy felt her chest churn.
Sensing an anxiety she'd never felt before, she hurriedly averted her gaze to Shalrit.
But the place she turned to wasn't comfortable, either.
She saw her close friend.
The friend she had thought she'd spend at least the next few hundred years with.
Worn down by the long years into an even more hardened cynic than Dorothy, Shalrit was smiling now as if this moment was pure bliss.
If it had just been her friend's happiness, Dorothy would have congratulated her sincerely.
Was it because the friend she thought would wallow in the same muck forever was suddenly leaving her behind?
Dorothy had no plans to take an apprentice witch, even if her magical progress stalled.
It wasn't some sudden vow on a particular day or triggered by a specific event.
It was simply a callus that had hardened naturally over centuries of life.
Other witches gave meaning to their lives with those five words: "for the sake of magic."
Not Dorothy.
She had simply lived, knowing full well it wouldn't be easy.
She had no desire to pass on her life as a Public Enemy to an apprentice witch.
In contrast, Shalrit—who Dorothy had seen only as kin—had found her "reason to die."
And paradoxically, she looked happier than Dorothy had ever seen her.
Shalrit had found it, while Dorothy hadn't.
Curious what "it" was, Dorothy ended up staying in Shalrit's domain for quite some time.
The newborn grew at an astonishing pace, day by day.
Dorothy held her in her arms to feed her formula and even changed Lurue's diapers, since she hadn't yet inherited a bowl.
Even looking back now, it was utter chaos.
A baby was an incredibly annoying creature that demanded twenty-four-hour care.
And yet, for such a sturdy spirit body, every day drained her utterly.
Every time she saw the priestess who looked so happy.
One side of her heart warmed, while the other filled with an unfillable void.
To Dorothy's eyes, Shalrit was simply growing frailer with each passing day.
It was just one step closer to death every day, her own resilience being whittled away.
Even so, she felt curiosity.
Like moths drawn to a campfire, knowing they'd burn, she drew closer to Shalrit and Lurue.
As she watched Lurue grow cuter by the day and Shalrit appear happier with time, what Dorothy felt was—
Envy for something she could never have.
Petty jealousy and inferiority toward her friend.
And a warmth she thought she no longer needed.
She felt herself sinking deeper into the swamp of emptiness.
In the end, unable to bear it, she fled—and only visited the mother and daughter occasionally after that.
3.
One day, Shalrit vanished without a trace.
Dorothy had vaguely assumed she had passed on her inheritance.
It was about time for Lurue to have grown enough to receive it.
She felt a twinge of resentment toward her friend for not telling her and even relocating the workshop.
But she understood.
Then, after ten years, she reunited by chance with Lurue.
"Dorothy!!!!"
The even more beautiful Lurue ran to her with open arms.
Catching sight of her adorable form after so long, Dorothy smiled naturally and hugged her back.
Afterward, they sat at the Molten Bar and caught up on lost time.
A flood of emotions welled up.
This must be what a witch who had received proper love was like.
Lurue was innocent and bright, affable and obedient.
Her distrustful nature toward others and her innate kindness hadn't gone anywhere.
To the point where she took a male witch—the one who had killed her own familiar—straight into her belly.
For better or worse.
From one to ten, she was utterly different from how Dorothy had been as a fledgling witch.
Sentiment was followed by concern.
Shalrit had left arrangements for her disciple, but the key wasn't some "trial."
Even if Lurue overcame any trial, with that mindset, she'd easily lose her life to a Public Enemy or an exile.
But Lurue was a full-fledged witch now, not an apprentice.
She wasn't someone Dorothy could butt in on.
Besides, Dorothy wasn't the meddlesome type.
So, what Dorothy kept a close eye on was the male witch Lurue had taken as her husband.
Without knowing his purpose in sticking by Lurue's side, he was clearly a risk factor.
Like most people who encountered Public Enemies, he openly displayed his sharp hostility.
But Dorothy was observing Shin Si-woo instead.
Playing along with his interrogative conversation—which was little more than an inquisition—she inversely probed his motives, personality, and nature.
It didn't take long to observe.
He was too dim-witted to even pretend to hide his thoughts.
Seriously pondering things like, "Is it right to hate Public Enemies just because they're Public Enemies?"
Curiosity sparked.
He was so fun to toy with, getting confused at the slightest suspicious behavior, that she kept teasing him.
After that, she enjoyed a peaceful vacation without any real trouble.
Lurue, who treated Dorothy as a friend without a shred of doubt.
Shin Si-woo, who distrusted her but didn't hate her.
Was it the lax atmosphere created by these two harmless, naive fools?
Dorothy surrendered herself to a comfort she'd never known in her life, without a second thought.
Until she heard those words from Lurue.
"It's only natural that you, a Public Enemy, are far more trustworthy than Gehenna's cowards."
She couldn't quite recall the context.
Lurue had probably said it in the tone of someone who trusted Dorothy without question.
And to Dorothy, who had momentarily forgotten reality while swept up in the mood, it was the switch that jolted her back.
Lurue was different from Dorothy.
She trusted people without reservation, was unbelievably sloppy, and kind to a fault.
The problem was that this Lurue felt hostility toward Gehenna's witches—and even a faint sense of kinship toward exiles and Public Enemies.
Through their conversations, Dorothy confirmed that this mindset was firmly rooted and unshakable.
She understood it, given that Shalrit's late-life hardships had been because of Kether Duke.
But her empathy stopped there.
To Dorothy's eyes, Lurue was a lamb who wanted to cozy up to wolves.
With such a naive outlook, it wasn't hard to imagine her prognosis would be poor if she stepped into this world.
Dorothy thought.
If Lurue emerged into the present world just like that.
If she lived out the rest of her life as an exile—could she survive?
Dorothy thought.
Lurue was a full-fledged witch, not an apprentice.
It was only natural that she brush off the sparks falling on her own mantle.
There was no obligation for Dorothy to worry about her path.
And yet, the lingering reluctance at the edge of her mind wasn't because Lurue was her friend's disciple.
It was because the thick affection Lurue had shown so openly was too substantial to ignore.
Dorothy made her decision.
Lurue truly didn't fit into Public Enemy society.
She was even precarious among exiles.
To survive, she had to scrutinize every last feather.
Just as Dorothy had in the past, Dorothy firmly believed that one bitter experience would make her grow more than a hundred words of advice from the sidelines.
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