The Witch and Her Assistant (1)
I was reincarnated into the world of Aria Chronicle, a game series that had enjoyed steady popularity since the 20th century. It was the longest-running JRPG, kept alive through countless sequels, side stories, and spin-offs. A title beloved by Japanese gamers that somehow managed to flop every time it attempted a global launch. Yet it was the kind of game every gamer around the world had heard of at least once.
With its signature JRPG combat depth, it built a dedicated fanbase, while its decade-spanning narrative and romance lines drew in casual players through flashy PVs. The slow-burn love story between the two leads was so prominent that some users even suggested it should have been an otome game instead. Side character romances were sprinkled throughout to deepen immersion, though the key difference between protagonists and supporting cast was whether they dodged their death flags or not.
Lines like “Once this war ends, I’ll propose to her,” “If I die, could you deliver this letter for me?” or “When the fighting’s over, let’s all go see the sea together” were common, and plenty of players criticized them as cliché-ridden because it was always obvious who would live and who would die.
When the director tried to subvert expectations by flipping relationships between leads and side characters, it only made things worse. The moment a beloved character suddenly died or fell to corruption, it became impossible to grow attached. By the time the series number entered double digits, no one cared about fantasy, heroes, or demon lords anymore. Once the story reached the point where the demon lord became the hero’s mother, discussions shifted to measuring heroines’ “mama power,” ranking their wife potential, and betting on how many women the new protagonist would collect. Sometimes even the childhood friend’s mother or an aunt made the heroine shortlist. In the end, as long as the flavor was good, it didn’t matter who became the heroine.
The day I saw a heroine who, after being saved once, started twisting her body and demanding responsibility from a complete stranger because her womb had “descended,” I lost it and smashed my monitor.
I posted on the community from my phone and flopped onto the bed. I’d even left work early despite my manager’s glare because the new game was out, yet here I was. I didn’t want to go to work tomorrow… I shouldn’t have broken the monitor. Burying my face in the pillow, I tried to shake off the late regret. It was time to let go of Aria Chronicle.
You were the one who seduced me first. You were the one who lured me in with pure love… Even a remake of the previous game would’ve been fine. Just give me that pure love again. That sweet, fluffy romance. Or better yet, don’t even bother with a remake.
“What’s the point of living now?”
Tomorrow I’d start the day with my manager’s nagging. No use dwelling on what was already done. Time to sleep.
“Waaah…”
Would you believe me if I said that when I opened my eyes, I had become a baby who could only cry?
By the time I turned ten and finally grasped reality, I was stroking my chin in deep thought. I was genuinely grateful that this place was the world of Aria Chronicle. Reincarnation, just like in web novels—my second life. I had spent countless hours imagining a happy future, planning ahead with all the foreknowledge I possessed.
But what good was knowing the path to that future if there was no road to walk right now?
First problem: I was an orphan abandoned by my parents. A passing woodcutter had picked me up, and while I grew up healthy for a while, the lack of any connections left me at a loss. Chosen by a god? Found by a dragon? Taken in by an archmage? Those clichés were nowhere in sight.
Second problem: In my previous life I had been male, yet here I was born female. At first the absence of my precious little friend had been disorienting, but since I’d already lived as a man once, living as a woman didn’t seem so bad. I decided not to make an issue of it. However, being born a woman with no bloodline, connections, or talent in Aria Chronicle meant only one future: becoming some farmer’s or woodcutter’s wife, popping out children without ever going hungry. One in ten thousand might escape that fate. That one had to be me. After coming this far, was I really supposed to live an ordinary life? Absolutely not.
Third problem: While Aria Chronicle was famous for its pure-love stories and seemed like a world full of dreams, hope, and romance, it was actually a place that would mercilessly kill both protagonists and side characters if you let your guard down. There was no special power for reincarnators, no translucent status window appearing when I shouted “Status.” At the very least it could’ve told me what talents I had.
The final, most critical issue: This was three hundred years before the first game in the Aria Chronicle series even began. When the woodcutter mentioned that the Holy Kingdom had been founded, I’d collapsed backward, my mind going blank. The Holy Kingdom was established three hundred years before the original story. In other words, if I lived as an ordinary human girl, I wouldn’t even get to witness the pure love of the original—I’d spend my days in an unsanitary medieval farming life until I died.
I was screwed.
Think. Recall every scrap of knowledge from the original. Legends, quests, myths set in the world of Aria Chronicle—anything that could let me live long and gain power…
“Estelle, if you’re not busy, could you help me move some firewood?”
The woodcutter had returned, shaking rain from his old robe. A robe meant wizard, obviously. I pictured myself dramatically waving a robe while raising a staff to cast wide-area magic. But with no connections or confirmed talent, could I even approach a mage tower? And even if I became a mage, I refused to turn into some three-hundred-year-old hag cackling “Heeheehee, hohoho” and acting senile. I wanted immortality. The kind of magic you could only dream of in a fantasy world!
“I’ve decided. I’m going to become a witch!”
“So that’s why you were kicked out.”
“That’s right. Of my own will.”
“It doesn’t sound like it was your will, Estelle.”
This was why kids these days were so sharp. While chatting with my cute assistant Joshua, the cauldron let out a plume of pink smoke. That was the last one. I had finished every potion I thought necessary after recalling the original work. The shimmering pink liquid would be plenty effective with just a single sip. Its name: Love’s Secret Potion!
A hundred years had passed since I was expelled. As a fully-fledged witch with an assistant, I had become so notorious in the area that I’d drawn the attention of the Heresy Inquisitors. Not that it mattered. The ordinary country girl I had been a hundred years ago no longer existed.
If I were to tell the old story, I had eventually found the Western Witch, become her disciple, and grown into a proper witch. The memory of crawling to her doorstep on my last breath, unable to walk any farther, was still vivid even after a century.
“I want to become a witch.”
After that, I became the Western Witch’s disciple and endured every hardship imaginable. Compared to what I gained, it was a cheap price to pay. By combining the witch’s teachings with ideas from the original work, I spent the tedious years creating poisoned apples, secret potions, and elixirs straight out of fairy tales. With these apples, I would eliminate every impure element that interfered with pure love. Hehehe.
When I finally achieved immortality through the Western Witch’s final lesson and retained my nineteen-year-old appearance forever, tears had blurred my vision.
“I taught it to you, but it’s a curse, you rotten girl.”
I missed the sight of the witch grumbling in irritation at my immortality. She was immortal herself, yet she only scolded me. What was that auntie up to now?
I stood up, my body drenched in sweat from the cauldron’s heat. I wanted a shower. Indoor hot-water showers were nearly impossible to find in a fantasy world! By using magic to recreate most modern conveniences, I could enjoy a life similar to the present day as long as I had mana. Stripping off my clothes and channeling mana, warm water sprayed from the showerhead.
Strawberry-pink hair reaching my thighs and an impressive bust. In my previous life I had fully agreed with the term “flat-chested,” so I had chugged a breast-enlarging potion from my master’s vault. Thanks to that, there had been the incident where she grabbed my chest so hard I nearly passed out. But that event had given me an idea.
If bigger breasts worked, then that was the true secret of love, wasn’t it? After all, no man disliked a woman with large breasts. Well, a few beasts existed who weren’t men, but I saw no need to respect them.
“Joshua, you didn’t secretly drink that potion, did you?”
While changing into fresh clothes after my shower, I warned Joshua, who was staring at the pink potion in the cauldron. Lolicon juice. An unforgivable offense.
“I’m not the kind of curious little kid who would touch a potion of unknown origin.”
Joshua answered with a sulky expression as she neatly arranged the potions in a box, clearly annoyed by my teasing.
“Hmm~ Acting all grown-up again.”
“Since you act like a child, Estelle, someone has to pretend to be the adult.”
Her refusal to back down even an inch was adorable. Joshua was a child I had found three years ago in a ruined village while gathering herbs that grew from human corpses. The village I had contracted with for regular supplies had suddenly stopped delivering. Holding a charred wooden stick, Joshua had been standing guard over her parents’ graves. Tears and snot streamed down her face without pause, her hands and feet trembled with fear, yet she clutched the stick tightly as a final act of resistance. The herbs growing from the scars on her body were also valuable, but the wounds had begun to fester and rot.
“Won’t you give me that flower?”
I carefully removed the herbs covering the burn scars on half of Joshua’s face and stroked her hair. I could have simply taken the herbs and left the girl behind, but I happened to need an assistant, and after living alone for so long, I had grown lonely. Spinning every excuse in my head, I took the girl’s cold hand.
While reminiscing about my first meeting with Joshua, I noticed she had finished tidying up and was now reading a fairy-tale book from the shelf. Snow White. During my seclusion I had written books imitating fairy tales from my previous life to pass the time, and this was one of them.
“Do you like handsome princes too, Joshua?”
“It’s not because he’s a prince that I like him.”
“Then what do you like about him?”
“Just… the way he risks danger for a princess he doesn’t even know. Even though the princess is asleep and doesn’t realize it. I envy that.”
The answer didn’t sound like it came from a ten-year-old. I stared blankly for a moment before affectionately patting her silver hair, proud of how thoughtful she was. Her long bangs, grown to hide the burn scars, slipped from my fingers.
“Then what about me, who loves you so much?”
“I don’t like you, Estelle.”
Hearing it directly still stung a little, but keeping a smile was part of being an adult.
“The witch is sad~ If my pretty assistant would just say one nice thing, I’d feel better right away.”
“Still no.”
Just bantering like this was happiness enough. I had been born too early to witness the pure love I wanted to see, but spending my days bickering with Joshua was enough to keep life from feeling dull. Once Joshua grew up and became independent, once she fell in love with someone, I might end up becoming a harsh mother-in-law.
“Grow up big and strong, Joshua.”
“Even if I grow up, I won’t taste good enough for you to eat, Witch.”
She had already mastered Hansel and Gretel too.
“No~ You look incredibly delicious~ So delicious I want to gobble you right up~!”