Chapter 710
Chapter 710
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 710
Chapter Title: Witch of Gold Coins (6)
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1.
Dorothy was generally seen as one of the bolder ones, even among witches who feared little.
Her self-magic "Angel Descent," manifested through a chapel and nun's habit, boasted defensive power that brooked no rivals—at least on the defensive side, if not offense.
Aside from that time she'd clashed with Si-woo, she had no recollection of taking a hit in battle. She secretly prided herself that no witch could pierce her guard if she focused purely on defense.
"...Hmm."
Yet right now, her heart pounded so fiercely she found herself absentmindedly craving a Calming Pill of the Yellow Emperor.
The cigar she ought to puff leisurely while savoring its flavor was burning away at twice its usual speed.
Being bold didn't mean she made a virtue of recklessness, after all.
And with good reason. Even with Lurye's mediation,
even in a situation where Dorothy's aid was absolutely essential,
even with the "code" Si-woo had given her for worst-case scenarios,
she still had to face the terrifying Tiferet Duke alone.
Over countless years, every scrap of news about her had been dire:
The witch next door had her business smashed to bits by Tiferet Duke.
The witch upstairs got nabbed by Tiferet Duke and wound up dead.
And she'd even witnessed the Witch of Cowardice—who wielded the most abominable homunculus knights—meet her gruesome end. Small wonder her body hunched reflexively.
"Haah~ It'll be fine, won't it?"
Still, she had no plans to cower outright.
Quite the opposite—showing too little confidence would erode trust in her... or so she claimed.
"Another lie, huh."
Truth was, she had ulterior motives once more.
Tiferet Duke was Si-woo's mentor and lover.
Picture a drama where the mistress encounters the legal wife and can't even stand tall.
How pitiful and wretched would she look?
Thus, lacking any claim to righteousness, Dorothy at least wanted to come off as a sultry femme fatale of a mistress.
It might even be the petty outgrowth of possessiveness toward Si-woo and jealousy toward his lover.
-Whoosh!
The hush of space parting.
Dorothy, stationed on a deserted Pacific island beach, turned.
"Dorothy, I've brought them."
Navy-blue tresses appeared first—Lurye.
Beside her stood a stunning witch with golden locks and starry sky-blue eyes.
That had to be Amelia Marygold, the "Witch of Perfume" whose fragrances were making waves lately.
They fetched top premiums even among exiles, so Dorothy—who cared little for such things—had heard regardless.
"......"
She was quietly awed.
Word was she'd just ascended to the 23rd Hierarchy, but Amelia's beauty shone even among witches never short on looks.
Casual modern garb couldn't dim the innate grace and poise that evoked a fairy-tale sprite.
Lurye, Tiferet Duke, and a nameless beauty besides.
Dorothy held no strict one-man-one-woman views on love, but what a sinner of a man.
"Are you the Witch of the Path?"
Tiferet Duke stepped forth from the pair's shadow.
Dorothy was secretly startled; she'd only spied her via grainy crystal orbs before, never up close.
First impressions of the realm's most infamous witch slayer boiled down to three words:
Tiny.
Cute.
Pink.
Petite as if her footsteps might patter cutely, yet irresistibly huggable.
"Well now."
Those vibes shifted at her firmly bitten lip and wary, sharpened gaze.
A stern visage hinting at a warrior's will tempered over ages.
Straight, unflinching eyes that'd cow you just facing them as foes.
"I want the full details on the situation."
"Such an aggressive tone. Mind your manners with my friend."
Lurye had given the rough rundown en route from the portal.
Dorothy was, in essence, Lurye's aunt figure—the witch she trusted most deeply.
Eloa knew of the Witch of the Path too.
She memorized every witch's face and foul deeds, after all.
In that light, Dorothy ranked low on the hit list.
Arms dealing aside, she lacked the standout villainy of her peers.
Yet neither fact guaranteed trust in Dorothy.
Centuries-old witches could harbor any number of serpents.
Lurye, by contrast, was a guileless young thing ripe for fooling, hierarchies be damned.
Worst case, this could be Dorothy's ploy to entrap Amelia and Eloa.
Sticking to the original plan might boost success odds.
Keen Dorothy wouldn't miss the undercurrent of doubt.
She cut straight to it.
"Si-woo's with the Sword Witch now, as her disciple."
"Disciple of the Sword Witch?"
"Yep~ Spot on. Met him just days ago—solid intel."
"We'll need how that meeting came about first."
"Hold on, I'll explain. You've been freezing me out since we got here. Think I, who views the boundless seas like my palm, missed your petty ploy?"
Lurye wedged in amid the trio's grave exchange.
"Fair enough, it's maddening. Dorothy and I go way back. A friend's feats are mine too. Rescue Si-woo, and I claim top marks."
Amelia let out a soft sigh.
She'd wrangled the hyper twin hellions' lessons, but Lurye wore her down fierce.
"Wasn't like that. Please explain, Lady Lurye."
"Very well. Where to begin this epic saga... Ah yes—as rightful heir to the Nukelabi Dynasty, I honed my magic beneath my wise mother and mentor."
Predictably, off from her own origin story.
Eyes on fidgeting Eloa and Amelia, Dorothy coaxed gently.
"Princess, mind if I take it from here?"
"...When my mentor then told me... Hm? Issue?"
"Too long."
"Ah, that it?"
"Yes— you're busy, so I'll wrap it neatly~"
"Got it. Condense well, then."
Arrogant as Lurye was, she knew heeding a vassal's frank words was kingly virtue.
To Amelia's shock, Lurye yielded meekly, pottering off to gather sea urchins and shells.
"She minds you well."
Eloa addressed Dorothy gentler now, her obedience earning points.
Eloa doted on apprentices and young witches alike, finding them endearing.
"I adore her plenty~. Total apprentice witch vibes."
Amelia, meanwhile, couldn't mask her disquiet.
Lurye out of earshot, questions tumbled out.
"How's he faring? What happened when you met to deem him safe?"
Dorothy laid out all she knew: the situation, their collaborative plan.
His solid footing as Rinne's disciple.
No looming dire threats.
Next contact, she'd pass him the "Gate" spell formula.
One hitch: Hexennacht portals were locked down, and pursuit might trail, so she'd intercept any tailing witches outside.
Good tidings notwithstanding, their faces stayed clouded.
Trust in the bearer trumped the message here.
"Still doesn't add up in spots."
"Fire away. I'll answer true."
"Why go so far for Si-woo? Just 'cause he's Lady Lurye's beau?"
"Hmm~ Call it a local wife thing?"
Eloa's eyes bugged at "local wife."
Amelia mirrored soon after.
"Ahh, we had a super~ steamy romp that day too."
Their stares pinned Dorothy's bosom in tandem.
Loose garb or no, the swell and heft defied concealment.
Beyond even Sophia's endowments.
Si-woo merited praise save his womanizing; no way he'd resist those.
Dorothy savored inner glee.
Nailed the bold mistress pitch.
She wove subtle boasts onward, casual-like.
"Our first in Akula was for stigma wound care. But I fell hard~. Plus assorted favors."
Truthfully, sex paled next to mending her frayed Lurye bond, easing the girl's Gehenna entry, awakening her to Si-woo's bond-fueled might beyond expectations—but she skipped those, bashful.
"So that's how it was."
"Oh? Si-woo never mentioned?"
Why withhold if real?
Veiling unease, Eloa replied.
"Sorry, but that's not enough to trust. Bear with me."
"Get it~ You despise witches, Duke."
Dorothy bobbed her head breezily, unperturbed.
Then beckoned Eloa.
"Ear borrow?"
"Me?"
"Yeah, Duke. Said you'd buy it if I passed this."
Eloa neared, wary.
Dorothy's lips quirked; an animal name slipped out.
"Rabbit."
Eloa cocked her head, echoing.
"Rabbit?"
Then it clicked.
A Si-woo-and-Eloa secret none save Sharon knew.
Sharing it with Dorothy? Peak trust token.
Flustered, Eloa glanced up to meet Dorothy's knowing, spinning grin.
"Heh, he told me to say it—but meaning? Code word?"
Eloa flicked her gaze away from those all-seeing eyes, turning to Amelia.
"We can trust her."
"Huh? What'd she say..."
"Witch's honor."
Amelia held her tongue at Eloa's dead-serious vow.