Chapter 223
Chapter 223
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 223
Chapter Title: Reimaging the Witches
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Before we start making clothes for the witches, we need to first talk about their image and move past that.
You might think it's nonsense to suddenly bring this up after we've talked so much already, but everything we've mentioned about witches up to now has been from my perspective.
You'd wonder what difference that makes.
Whether I see it or Emily sees it, what's the big deal?
But there is a big difference.
That's because my view of witches is filtered through preconceptions from my previous life.
To be precise, it's colored by Japanese variations on Western witches.
To me, a witch is a decadent, alluring, languid big-sister type who wields spells or sorcery.
But the general image of a witch is something gloomy, grimy, and like a ticking bomb ready to unleash who-knows-what dark deed.
She's less the sexy big sis skilled in witchcraft and more the doddering old hag with creeping dementia—that's the standard image.
That's why kids steer clear of witches.
If she were the gloomy-but-sexy, languid witch big sis I imagine, even guys might want to become witches.
So, in this situation, how do I change people's perception of witches?
Honestly, just making clothes won't help much.
If they put on pretty outfits but keep acting the same, they'll just be old hags in new clothes—nothing more, nothing less.
That's why we need to change the people a bit alongside the clothes.
So how do we go about that?
The simplest way is to put them in a situation where they have to listen.
Witches might be free spirits, but there are two things they absolutely respect: patrons who fund their experiments with materials or money, and the Imperial Family.
Disrespect either one, and their life as a witch is over.
And I'm someone who can move both at the same time.
But I had no intention of involving Father.
Messing with a researcher's patron is beyond picking a fight—it's a kill-on-sight order.
Sending someone out to die just to change an image is too harsh, so asking Father is off-limits. It's a last-resort nuclear option for when there's truly no other way.
For similar reasons, invoking His Imperial Majesty or the Crown Princess is also a no-go.
That really is a kill order—people die for it.
So that leaves three options.
But for very realistic reasons, it naturally boils down to just one.
"Third Princess, please grant me this one favor."
"It's been a while since we last met, and you're already being awfully bold."
The Third Princess herself.
If we're talking personal closeness, Elizabeth edges her out. But in terms of authority and the weight her words carry, the Crown Princess ranks higher.
Even so, the reason I came to the Third Princess is that she's a mage.
Her field is a bit different, but she's someone who's reached the limits in the realm of mana and magic.
She's the only one superior to witches in both status and profession, without being overbearing.
With a faint whiff of alcohol from her teacup, the Third Princess set it down and pressed her brow, glaring at me.
"Has your schedule gotten a lot freer now?"
"Not at all."
At her mocking tone, I startled and shook my head vigorously.
My stomach was twisting itself into knots right now—what free time?
I didn't want to resort to measures like this unless I had to.
But without this extreme approach, those witches would carry the old hag stigma for the rest of their lives.
Though it's less a stigma and more an apt assessment...
"Then what makes you so bold as to ask for my help?"
Seeing me trembling like a hamster, the Third Princess's intensity softened a touch.
I pondered how to explain this well, but quickly realized the person before me didn't need any sugarcoating.
"I couldn't find anyone who could solve my problem more cleanly and perfectly than you, Third Princess."
"Hah, you cheeky little mouse."
With a hollow chuckle, the Third Princess's eyelids twitched as she wet her lips with the teacup.
She rubbed the cup's handle with her thumb, fixing me with a steady gaze.
"Fine, let's set aside the trivialities behind the curtain and get to the heart of it."
"The heart of it...?"
"Work deserves fair compensation, and fair pay varies by the task and the one performing it."
"Yes, of course."
The Third Princess lifted one corner of her mouth as she spoke.
"So, what can you offer to hire this noble and capable self?"
It was the easiest of the tough questions to answer.
If she'd said something like "How dare you ask a favor of imperial blood," I'd have yelped and slammed my head into the floor. But this? I could squeeze out an answer.
"Hm..."
I fiddled with my actual tea-filled cup and let out a thoughtful hum.
I had nothing substantial to offer the Third Princess.
The best I had was my paltry talent?
Even that held little appeal for her, who already had the imperial foundation making her clothes.
"Is there perhaps some outfit you need?"
With no better cards, I offered my meager talent with an awkward smile.
"Ha, as if there'd be... "
She scoffed at my response and shook her head.
But after a couple of back-and-forths, she froze mid-shake, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow.
"...There might be."
Murmuring softly, she nodded slightly and met my eyes with a serious look.
"How many can you make?"
"Hm... As long as it's not an outrageous quantity, I'll do my best to accommodate."
"Two wouldn't be outrageous, right?"
"Two is no problem at all."
"Good."
A mad gleam lit the Third Princess's smile.
"Make me two bunny girl outfits. One with floppy ears attached, if you please."
"Pardon?"
The request made me doubt my ears—and it was awfully specific.
"I'll send the measurements needed for production in a letter soon."
"Uh, um... Yes, understood."
'Why on earth do you need them?' nearly escaped my throat, but I barely swallowed it, nodding stiffly to accept her demand.
Whatever it was, I shouldn't dig deeper.
Pretending it was just another ordinary customer was the best move.
"So, what exactly is the favor you want from me?"
"I'm truly sorry to ask this of you, Third Princess, but could you help correct the witches' behavior?"
"Correct their behavior?"
Her head tilted slightly to the left.
"Are you saying I should train the witches like dogs?"
"On a broad level, yes."
I nodded in affirmation, moistened my throat with tea, and continued.
"The witches in the Magic Division want to shed their negative image."
"Negative? Isn't that all self-inflicted?"
"That's why they want to reform now."
"Fair enough. Now that they're out in the world, it makes sense they'd want to change. But their bizarre behavior must tie to witchcraft or spirits—can it even be fixed?"
I shook my head.
"The witches themselves say that's a tough part. So I'm thinking of approaching it differently."
"Differently?"
I shrugged and chuckled.
It's inevitable for weird sides to show during experiments.
People can lose a bit of their grip while working.
Researchers need to be a little crazy to perform at their best.
I don't know why, but all my grad student friends said the same.
So I had no intention of fixing the witches' eccentricities.
"If they want to change how others see them, they just need to be careful when they're in public, right?"
"Hm~ That's a fair point."
In the end, public image forms outside the lab, not inside.
What happens in the lab can get a pass with 'Oh, well~', but acting like wild animals right in front of people? No.
So at minimum, outside their domain, they need to behave within normal bounds to transform their image.
"In what direction do you want the witches to change?"
I held up three fingers.
"I'm thinking of planting three ideas in the witches this time: one is a haughty demeanor, another is alluring movements, and finally, a decadent and seductive expression. The goal is for them to at least pull these off in front of others."
"Rather than erasing their gloomy image completely, you're aiming to twist it in a positive direction?"
"Yes. Completely reversing it is impossible—they won't change their core nature. But with effort, we can nudge the existing image just a bit."
Gloominess and decadence are a hair's breadth apart.
A life-worn person huddled in a corner, head down, mumbling nonsense? Gloomy.
The same person in the corner, head slightly raised, flashing a bewitching smile? Decadent allure.
Just a tiny shift in posture, and suddenly you picture a femme fatale with a cigarette dangling from her lips, seducing someone.
"Fine, that's not too hard."
"You'll help, then?"
"Yes. I'll spare a few weeks."
"Thank you, Your Highness!"
I bowed repeatedly, nearly smashing my head into the table, expressing my gratitude to her for accepting so readily.
The Third Princess looked at me fondly, like I was cute, and waved her hand lightly.
"Enough. It's just some harmless fun to stave off boredom."
"Even if it's mere amusement, you've given great help, so thanks are in order."
"Heh, you've thanked me plenty. Just tell me when to start."
"I'm meeting the witches again next week. Can you start then?"
The Third Princess nodded lightly and reached for her teacup.
"Perfect timing. Consider it set for next week."
"Yes, Your Highness."
I nodded with a satisfied smile.
That solved the root problem.
Now I just need to design clothes that help speed up the change.