Chapter 159
Chapter 159
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 159
Chapter Title: Paradise for Witches
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"Oh my god, oh my god... She really is a witch?"
A dark forest clearing somehow brimming with energy.
Estella, the witch freshly released from her permanent ban, was being gawked at by someone.
The witch, pointing at herself.
It was a label she'd heard so often it bored her, even cursed it—but this time, it didn't feel bad.
"...You're a witch too."
Because the woman staring at her in wonder was a witch herself.
A senior witch, at that.
It was Morone, the gallery's very first active witch, spotted early by Judak.
At Morone's cabin, handed over under Judak's referral.
"This is my house—make yourself at home!"
“...”
Estella found Morone fascinating.
Not just because she'd met another witch.
"How can you be so full of life?"
"Huh?"
"You're a witch."
A witch full of life.
A positive witch.
It was an impossibly strange phrase.
Morone embodied words that simply didn't belong together.
"Take a look around."
Morone grinned and spread her arms wide.
Estella slowly scanned her surroundings.
"Oh?"
The yard overflowed with materials.
Rare ingredients piled up like mountains.
The inside was even more astonishing.
Pepper, sugar, salt, frog legs, pig livers, and all sorts of other things.
"No, how...?"
Only then did Morone's outfit catch her eye.
A fabric of a material she'd never seen before, utterly captivating.
A rich witch?
"Could something like this even exist?"
A cabin stocked with every material and guaranteed safety.
"It's paradise."
-Thump.
Estella, the emotion witch, felt her heart pound hard.
Just then, Morone approached from behind with a knowing look and declared confidently.
"This was once my childhood home, where I lived with my mother."
"Then..."
"Now it's a safe house that Lord Judak arranged for me."
"Why?"
What was so special about a witch?
Sure, with abundant support, Morone had produced recovery potions.
But that alone didn't convince her.
Before all that support, she'd been a pitiful witch.
You couldn't just chalk it up to "spotting talent."
"Lord Judak... is Lord Judak."
A being like Judak getting hurt enough to need a recovery potion?
She'd sooner believe he was mingling with magical beasts.
Morone just shrugged.
"I don't know either."
"Huh?"
"How could I possibly know Lord Judak's intentions? I just work hard to repay him."
Morone fixed Estella with a steady gaze.
"You should know better, as the junior witch."
"J-Junior...?"
Flustered by the sudden assertion of seniority, Estella still grasped the meaning.
She was the emotion witch, after all.
She knew there were no dark desires behind Judak helping her.
No—his intentions were so transparently pure, it was disorienting.
Hadn't he said it outright?
Judak*: Just gal it up
Estella: Huh?
Judak*: Even better if you turn into a total galchング. Any kind of potion is fine.
Estella: B-but what if I fail?
Even as a witch, she'd been too busy scraping by to have the time or mental space for potion-making.
And Judak had replied:
Judak*: I bought witch stock lol
Judak*: Stocks go up and down, that's normal
Judak*: I'm Judak. Galrums gotta live for the gallery to live
Estella: No...
The conversation had only made her feel more adrift.
"I don't know the details, but..."
It felt like chatting with someone from a whole other world, free from harsh realities.
Recalling that moment, Estella said quietly.
"Okay. I'll work hard and make something."
"Yes! That's great!"
Seeing her resolve, Morone started clapping, then asked.
"But what are you going to make?"
Estella was an emotion witch.
No ordinary witch.
When curiosity prompted the question, Estella stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment before answering.
"...Yeah, I'll work hard to make something."
A faint smile bloomed on Estella's lips.
*
Dragon Will Die: (coffee cert pic)
Dragon Will Die: (ecstasy dragon con)
Yongyong suddenly sent me a galcon featuring her own image.
Judak*: What kind of con is this?
Dragon Will Die: A dragon con offered up by the mortals. What do you think? owo
Judak*: ... yeah looks good
"Envious."
It was a perfect galcon.
From the quality packed into such a small image.
To the variety usable in any situation.
And especially the ones optimized for medieval memes.
"Maybe someone will make one for me."
But fat chance.
All I'd gotten were hybrids.
- Why doesn't Judak use the cons we made?
ㄴ Lol we worked our asses off for a month
ㄴ Lol he only uses that giant frog-eye con wtf
ㄴ Judak*) sent him a bishoujo girl char and he goes "how tf do I use this"
I had plenty of emotes sent my way.
The problem was they were all bishoujo yandere pics slapped with "Judak" on them.
Dragon Will Die: If it's possible... could I ask you for tomorrow morning too?
Lately, though, I'd picked up a new gig.
Brewing coffee for Yongyong every day.
I'd brew it and ship it over, and it'd appear right in front of her.
"Well, I could manage that much, but..."
Why me, specifically?
Coffee pros brew good coffee.
Especially novel for a guy like me who'd only ever had instant mixes or coffee sticks.
Judak*: BREW IT YOURSELF WAAAAH!
One cup of coffee cost me 21 gal posts.
A bit of petty pushback, but her response was always the same.
Dragon Will Die: That's because you opened a shop...!
Dragon Will Die: Sigh, what kind of boss sets up shop and only runs it 2 hours a week!
Dragon Will Die: And as the upper dragon, I have to show some leniency to my underlings owo
"Well... fair point?"
A sleepless galchong dragon.
She even faithfully handled her padak duties.
One cup of coffee a day wasn't a bad reward.
She'd said my brew had a different taste and aroma.
-Knock knock.
A knock came at the door.
I turned to see Penny peeking in.
"Um, Malphite."
"Eh."
"Got the next volume of this by any chance?"
She'd been obsessed with fairy tale books once, but had she already burned through every fairy tale out there?
Penny clutched a single book.
*Sorrows of Young Werther*.
"It's weird. The story's perfect, but the protagonist just dies at the end."
"Oh, right."
"I'm dying to know how the author fixes that in the next volume."
Penny's eyes bulged as she spoke.
She looked like the idea of it being the actual ending hadn't even crossed her mind.
"There isn't one."
"...Huh?"
"Sorry, but that's the ending."
"You're lying."
Penny's mouth fell open.
Eyes wide like a rabbit's, utterly speechless.
Then she scurried right up beside me and flopped onto the bed.
"Absurd."
Face buried in the pillow, she mumbled.
"I refuse to believe it ends like that. It makes no sense, right?"
"Hmm..."
For some reason, all the famous classic novels everyone knew had tragic endings.
Which was probably why people remembered them for so long.
Penny seemed to be taking it hard.
She turned her head slightly to look at me, then hit me with something weird.
"So, wanna rewrite the ending?"
"What?"
"Your stories are always so fantastical, but this ending sucks. Dying? Come on."
Penny grabbed my face with both hands, her expression desperate.
"Yeah? Please...?"
"But I'm not the author."
Sure, I could rewrite an ending if it was one of my novels.
But this wasn't mine.
I wasn't some bold galrum who'd dare alter a masterpiece's ending.
"You're lying."
"Ever heard of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe?"
"You wrote it."
She wouldn't believe it even with the name.
"In this backward literary world, who else could write something like this if not you?"
Penny shook her head, incredulous—or rather, refusing to believe.
But no matter how much she denied it, facts were facts.
Why on earth would a guy like me, sprawled in bed galling all day, be the author of a masterpiece?
"I swear on the gallery."
"...!!!"
"It's not mine."
"Gasp!"
I'd even invoked the gallery itself.
Which meant it was the truth.
Penny realized there was no changing the ending and slowly slumped over onto me.
"No way. Wer..."
"Wer who?"
"My special nickname for Werther."
Watching her groan in agony, I was convinced.
"Got it. Better not release this one yet."
The fairy tale reactions had been good last time.
There'd been that weird red book incident that derailed things midway.
I'd planned to drop some novels on the market this time, but it nearly caused a disaster.
If even level-headed Penny was like this...
"Werther effect."
Copycat suicides.
People in the modern world questioned if it was even real.
But in this medieval era? Totally plausible.
And with literature being so underdeveloped here, dropping a book like this could sweep people up in their emotions.
"Galrums getting swept up in emotions? They've got plenty from raging at my bait posts."
Just to be safe, I quietly stashed the stacks of novels I'd ordered in the warehouse.
Besides, this gallery didn't need that kind of bait or kindling.
The Destruction Gallery ran on endless dopamine from nonstop incidents.
Taldrue: Brother! You there!?
Judak*: Yeah?
Taldrue: That great crack in the mine I mentioned—it burst! Wait, no, it opened!
Judak*: ?
A pretty big—no, huge—problem had erupted in the dwarven nation of Kilgrot.
*
Inside the Kilgrot underground kingdom.
A dwarf gulped down booze in front of the crack that had appeared in Mine #3.
"Ugh...!"
Straight 90-proof stuff.
He usually wouldn't drink on the job, but the mine's disorienting vibes were the issue.
For pulling night watch on a thing this size, booze was permitted.
"Grr... Ugh, I could do night watch forever."
Booze on the job—and stuff this strong—at will?
As the dwarf muttered alone in the vast mine interior,
-Shhshk.
"Huh?"
Something zipped by fast.
No—it came out and went back in.
A human-like hand had peeked from the crack for an instant before vanishing.
The dwarf rubbed his eyes midway and let out a hollow chuckle.
"Seeing shit now."
Cracks were one-way streets.
Unless it was a wave, nothing could come through from the other side.
And a crack this size turning into a wave? Alerts would hit immediately.
He shrugged it off and tilted the bottle back when—
-Pffst!
"Glurk...?"
The hand shot out again, piercing straight through the dwarf's heart.
Soon, a woman tumbled out from the crack.
Seductive deep green hair, a bold outfit that left little to the imagination.
And emerald eyes staring right at him.
Even in the face of that allure, the dwarf muttered in disbelief, barely audible.
"Damn, she's a looker..."
Blood pouring from him as he collapsed, the woman stepped leisurely out into the open.
She scanned the mine's interior layout.
"Judak, you here?"
With an ominous smile, she slipped back into the crack.
A few hours later, mobs began pouring out of it.
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