City ​​of Witches 83

## Chapter 83 – #19_The Uninvited Guest (4)

#81

1.
“Then, how about listening to my proposal?”

Ea readily agreed to Odile’s proposal with a sing-song tone.
It was fortunate that the other party wasn’t completely impossible to communicate with.
She frowned deeply, as if she was in deep thought, before opening her mouth.

“I absolutely, absolutely hate those Jemena bitches. They destroyed my magic power plant, which was my main source of income, five years ago, you know?”

Her voice, bubbling like boiling mud, dripped with a thick malice.
It seemed she had a lot pent up, as she completely crumpled her face, abandoning even the pretense of elegance she had maintained.

“What’s your name?”

Ea asked, taking a deep breath as if performing in a play, and managing her expression.
Odile tried not to shrink back, straightened her shoulders, and said,

“Odile, Odile Jemena.”
“Okay, if you, Odile, sacrifice yourself and follow me well, I’m willing to let the rest of them go.”
“What’s your proposal?”

A bitter smile formed on Ea’s lips.

“First, I need to confirm if your courage is genuine.”
“There’s no need. I’m not afraid of death or anything.”
“Calm down and listen to me. These are things you’ll be facing. Sometimes ignorance breeds courage, doesn’t it? And who knows, maybe if you listen to me, your fledgling courage might crack.”

After a moment of wiggling her fingers and tilting her head, Aea began to calmly lay out her words.
It was a scenario of a revenge plot that was far too cruel and brutal.

The world was a stage, and I was merely a supporting character.

That’s how I felt, anyway.

My name is Kim Hana. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve been working as a contract employee at a small publishing house for the past three years. I’m not exactly living the life I dreamed of.

My dream was to become a writer. I wanted to create stories that would move people, stories that would make them laugh and cry. But reality is a harsh mistress. The publishing world is a battlefield, and I’m just a foot soldier, shuffling papers and making coffee.

My daily routine is as monotonous as it gets. Wake up, commute, work, commute back, sleep. Repeat. It’s like a never-ending loop, and I’m starting to feel like a cog in a machine.

But today was different. Today, something unexpected happened.

It all started with a phone call.

“Hana-ssi, can you come to the meeting room right away?”

It was my boss, Mr. Park. His voice was unusually tense, which made me nervous. I quickly gathered my things and headed to the meeting room, my heart pounding in my chest.

When I entered, I saw Mr. Park sitting at the head of the table, his face grim. The other team members were also there, looking equally worried.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Mr. Park cleared his throat and said, “We have a problem. A big one.”

He then proceeded to explain the situation. Apparently, one of our star authors, a famous novelist named Lee Junho, had suddenly decided to cancel his contract with us. He was supposed to deliver his new manuscript in a month, but now he was refusing to even talk to us.

“We’ve tried everything,” Mr. Park said, his voice laced with desperation. “We’ve called him, emailed him, even sent him a personal letter. But he’s not responding to any of our attempts.”

The room was silent for a moment, the tension thick in the air. Then, one of my colleagues, Ms. Choi, spoke up.

“What are we going to do? If we don’t get his manuscript, the company will be in serious trouble.”

Mr. Park sighed and said, “I don’t know. I’m at my wit’s end.”

I looked around at my colleagues, their faces etched with worry. I felt a pang of sympathy for them. We were all in this together, and if the company went down, we would all suffer.

Then, an idea popped into my head. It was a crazy idea, a long shot, but I couldn’t help but feel like it was worth a try.

“I have an idea,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm.

Everyone turned to look at me, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

“What is it, Hana-ssi?” Mr. Park asked.

I took a deep breath and said, “I’ll go talk to him.”

The room was silent for a moment, then everyone started talking at once.

“Are you crazy?”

“That’s impossible!”

“He won’t even talk to us, what makes you think he’ll talk to you?”

I held up my hand to silence them. “I know it’s a long shot, but I think I can do it. I’ve always admired his work, and I think I can connect with him on a personal level.”

Mr. Park looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and doubt. “Are you sure about this, Hana-ssi?”

I nodded, my heart filled with a strange sense of determination. “Yes, I am.”

And that’s how I found myself on a mission to save the company, a mission that would change my life in ways I never could have imagined.

“우선 오딜 양의 자궁을 생으로 빼낼 거야. 어떤 마취도 없이 말이지.
비록 낙인보다야 못하지만 견습마녀의 그릇 역시 소중한 연구 자료가 되거든. 이 부분은 너무 걱정하지 마렴, 예전에 여러 번 해봤으니까. 아무리 고통스러워도 넌 절대로 죽지 못해. 넌 어떤 예쁜 울음으로 울부짖을지 궁금하네.”
The day I turned twenty, I received a strange gift.

It was a small, old-fashioned music box. The kind you’d see in an antique shop. The wooden box was a dark, faded brown, and the carvings on it were so worn that it was hard to tell what they were supposed to be.

I didn’t know who had sent it. There was no sender’s name on the package, just my address written in neat, unfamiliar handwriting.

I opened the lid of the music box. A delicate melody began to play. It was a tune I’d never heard before, but it was strangely familiar, like a forgotten memory.

As I listened to the music, a strange sensation washed over me. It was like my consciousness was being pulled into a deep, dark abyss.

When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in my room.

I was standing in a vast, empty space. The sky was a swirling vortex of colors, and the ground beneath my feet was a strange, shimmering substance.

I didn’t know where I was, or how I had gotten there. All I knew was that I was alone, and that I was scared.

Then, a voice echoed through the space.

“Welcome, traveler.”

The voice was deep and resonant, like the sound of a thousand bells ringing at once.

“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I am the guardian of this realm,” the voice replied. “And you have been chosen to embark on a journey.”

“A journey?” I repeated, my heart pounding in my chest. “What kind of journey?”

“A journey of self-discovery,” the voice said. “A journey that will test your courage, your strength, and your very soul.”

“But why me?” I asked. “Why have I been chosen?”

“That is for you to discover,” the voice said. “Now, go forth, and may your path be filled with light.”

And with that, the voice faded away, leaving me alone in the vast, empty space.

I didn’t know what to do. I was scared, confused, and completely lost. But I knew that I couldn’t stay there forever.

So, I took a deep breath, and I started to walk.

I didn’t know where I was going, or what I would find. But I knew that I had to keep moving forward.

Because that’s what a traveler does.

Even though it was just words, the threat was so sharp it felt like the metallic tang of blood filled the air as Aea’s gaze swept over Odile’s lower abdomen.

Odile shivered as if she had been stripped bare by that gaze.

“그렇게 되면 네게 남는 건 조그마한 흉이 진 예쁘장한 몸뚱이 뿐이겠지. 일반적인 추방자라면 그대로 처분해 버렸겠지만 나는 말했다시피 제머나이에게 쌓인 게 많아. 그뿐이겠어? 타고난 절약가이기도 해. 그래서 오딜 양을 알뜰살뜰하게 사용하기 위해서 내 지갑으로 쓸 거야.”
The old woman’s face, wrinkled like a dried persimmon, was a map of her life. Each line and crease told a story of hardship and resilience. Her eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of mischief. She sat on the low wooden stool, her back slightly hunched, her hands gnarled and calloused from years of labor. She wore a faded hanbok, its colors muted with time, and a white cotton headscarf that partially concealed her gray hair.

“So, you’re the one,” she said, her voice raspy but firm. “The one they call the ‘Ghost of the Back Alley.’”

I nodded, my gaze fixed on her. The air in the small, dimly lit room was thick with the scent of dried herbs and old paper. A single oil lamp flickered on the table, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.

“They say you can see things others can’t,” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Things that are hidden, things that are lost.”

“I can,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

She leaned forward, her gaze piercing. “Then tell me, what do you see?”

I closed my eyes, focusing my senses. The room around me faded away, replaced by a swirling vortex of images and emotions. I saw the old woman as a young girl, her laughter echoing through a sunlit field. I saw her heartbreak, her struggles, her triumphs. I saw the countless lives she had touched, the love she had given, the pain she had endured.

When I opened my eyes, I spoke, my voice filled with a strange calm. “I see a life well-lived, a heart full of love, and a spirit that has never been broken.”

The old woman’s eyes widened, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She reached out, her hand trembling, and placed it on mine.

“You truly see,” she whispered. “You truly see.”

And in that moment, I knew that I had found something more than just a place to hide. I had found a connection, a purpose, a reason to keep going.

She licked her lips.

As if feeling a sense of ecstasy just from imagining it, she shivers, as if experiencing an orgasm from the catharsis of revenge.

The sound of the rain was deafening.

It was a downpour that seemed to have emptied the sky, and the world was shrouded in a thick, gray veil. The rain lashed against the windowpanes, and the wind howled like a beast, shaking the entire house.

I was sitting at my desk, staring blankly at the computer screen. The words I had been writing seemed to have lost their meaning, and the story I had been so eager to tell felt distant and unreal.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. The rain continued to fall, and the sound of it filled my ears, a constant, monotonous rhythm.

I thought of her.

Her name was Hana.

She was the most beautiful person I had ever met. Her eyes were like the deep blue of the ocean, and her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds.

I had met her at a small cafe near my house. I had been working on my novel, and she had been reading a book. We had struck up a conversation, and I had been captivated by her intelligence and her wit.

We had spent hours talking, and I had felt a connection with her that I had never felt with anyone else.

We had started dating, and I had been happier than I had ever been. We had gone on long walks in the park, we had watched movies together, and we had shared our dreams and our fears.

But then, one day, she had told me that she had to leave. She had to go back to her hometown, a small village in the countryside.

I had been devastated. I had begged her to stay, but she had been adamant. She had said that she had to go back to her family, and that she couldn’t stay with me.

I had watched her leave, and I had felt like a part of me had been torn away.

I had tried to move on, but I couldn’t. I had tried to forget her, but I couldn’t.

She was always in my thoughts, and I missed her more than words could say.

The rain continued to fall, and the wind continued to howl. I opened my eyes and looked at the computer screen again.

The words were still there, but they still seemed meaningless.

I closed my eyes again and thought of her.

I wondered if she was thinking of me too.

I wondered if she missed me as much as I missed her.

I wondered if we would ever see each other again.

The rain continued to fall, and the wind continued to howl.

I knew that I had to move on. I knew that I had to let her go.

But I also knew that I would never forget her.

She would always be a part of me, and I would always cherish the memories that we had shared.

I opened my eyes and looked at the computer screen again.

I started to type.

The words flowed from my fingers, and the story began to take shape.

It was a story about love and loss, about hope and despair, about the power of memory and the importance of moving on.

It was a story about her.

And it was a story about me.

The rain continued to fall, and the wind continued to howl.

But I didn’t care.

I was writing.

And that was all that mattered.

The day I turned twenty, I received a strange letter.

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It was a thick, cream-colored envelope, with my name written on it in neat, elegant handwriting. The address was also written in the same handwriting, and it was a place I had never heard of.

“What’s this?”

I tilted my head, examining the envelope. There was no sender’s name. I carefully tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. Inside was a single sheet of paper, also cream-colored, with the same elegant handwriting.

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The letter read:

*To the one who will become the ‘Master of the Tower,’*

*I extend my deepest congratulations on your twentieth birthday.*

*I have been waiting for you for a long time.*

*I hope you will come to the ‘Tower of Trials’ without fail.*

*The path to the tower will be revealed to you soon.*

*I await your arrival.*

*From the one who awaits you at the top of the tower.*

“The Tower of Trials?”

I frowned. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel. I looked at the letter again, but there was nothing else written on it. I turned the envelope over, but there was no sender’s name or address.

“Who sent this?”

I was puzzled. I had never received a letter like this before. I looked at the letter again, and then I noticed something. The handwriting was very familiar. It was the same handwriting as my mother’s.

“Mom?”

My mother had passed away when I was young. I had no memory of her handwriting. But somehow, I felt that this handwriting was very similar to the handwriting I had seen in the old letters my mother had left behind.

“Could it be…?”

I couldn’t believe it. My mother had passed away a long time ago. But if this letter was from my mother, then what was the ‘Tower of Trials’? And why was she waiting for me at the top of the tower?

I was filled with curiosity and a strange sense of anticipation. I decided to go to the ‘Tower of Trials’. I didn’t know where it was, but the letter said that the path to the tower would be revealed to me soon.

I put the letter in my pocket and went out. As I walked down the street, I suddenly felt a strange sensation. It was as if something was pulling me in a certain direction. I looked around, but there was nothing there.

“What is this?”

I was confused. But I decided to follow the feeling. I walked in the direction that the feeling was guiding me, and soon I arrived at a place I had never seen before.

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It was a large, old-fashioned building. The building was so tall that I couldn’t see the top. The building was made of gray stone, and it looked very old and worn. There was a large, wooden door at the entrance of the building.

“Is this… the Tower of Trials?”

I was a little scared, but I decided to go inside. I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The inside of the building was dark and cold. There was a long, narrow hallway in front of me.

“Hello?”

I called out, but there was no answer. I took a deep breath and started walking down the hallway. As I walked, I felt a strange sense of anticipation. I didn’t know what was waiting for me at the end of the hallway, but I was determined to find out.

“난 현세 곳곳을 돌아다니는 걸 좋아하거든. 현지에서 여행자금을 융통하는 건 언제나 까다로운 일이지. 바로 그때! 오딜 양이 일을 해야 할 때인 거지. 곱상한 외모로 현지의 남자들에게 몸을 팔아서 돈을 벌어오면 돼. 쉽지?”
The wind was blowing.

It was a wind that carried the scent of the sea.

The wind was blowing, and the waves were crashing.

The waves were crashing, and the seagulls were crying.

The seagulls were crying, and I was walking.

I was walking, and the sand was soft.

The sand was soft, and the sun was warm.

The sun was warm, and I was alone.

I was alone, and I was thinking.

I was thinking, and I was remembering.

I was remembering, and I was smiling.

I was smiling, and I was crying.

I was crying, and I was laughing.

I was laughing, and I was breathing.

I was breathing, and I was living.

I was living, and I was walking.

I was walking, and the wind was blowing.

Witches generally possess vast fortunes even in the present day.
When they inherit a mark from their predecessors, they also inherit the accumulated wealth.
No matter how much of an outcast she is, there’s no way a witch with her level of power would lack mere travel expenses.
In other words, her actions are purely cruel amusement stemming from a sadistic impulse.

“A day has 24 hours, and an apprentice witch needs to sleep… hmm, about 20 people a day should be enough, right?”

Ea, as if seeking Odile’s agreement, asked and then proceeded with the story as she pleased.

“I’m so excited. What should I do? My heart is already pounding… Ah, and! I’m going to give you a punishment every time you fail to meet the target. How about one toe for each failure? Once your feet become as stubby as tree stumps, I’ll cut off your fingers next. Then your arms and legs, then your eyes and tongue… I’ll chop you up little by little.”

Her flushed cheeks were clearly not just from the exhilarating fantasy. It was also clearly linked to sexual excitement. A cruel joy and sadism that neither Siwoo nor the twins could understand bloomed like poisonous mushrooms in the middle of her words. Odile was trembling as if she would collapse at any moment, and Odette was hiccuping and shedding tears.

“What do you think of my proposal? Even if he’s a jerk, wouldn’t his eyes pop out if his apprentice witch became a world-traveling whore?”
“You crazy bitch…”
“Ugh…”

Siwoo muttered involuntarily. Odile couldn’t withstand the palpable malice and vomited on the floor. Odette collapsed to the ground as if her legs had given out.

As the time of delusion passed, Ea, having regained some sanity, clapped her hands. As if the time for silly teasing was over.

“…Actually, on second thought, I’ll cancel the proposal. Instead of just taking Odile, why not take both of you? Then I’ll have two wallets, right? If Odile fails to meet the target, I’ll punish her sister, and vice versa. That seems more fun. I want to see a tearful sisterly love, that touching drama.”

After giving them a good dose of fear, she reversed her proposal as easily as flipping her hand. Siwoo was certain. This bitch is crazy, and the only way forward is to fight. Ea’s red eyes, which had been tilted upwards, turned towards Siwoo with a smirk.

Now, even the thought that those eyes were like cursed jewels didn’t occur to me.
Only a revulsion, as if someone had pulled out and clumped together entrails, was felt.

Shiwoo twisted open another bottle of mana potion.
He gulped down the entire contents, emptying it all into his mouth.

It was a life he’d already considered dead anyway.
The plan to ask for even a twin to be sent had long since vanished.
That cruel witch was absolutely not someone with whom an ambiguous compromise was possible.

I will fight.
Even if it’s like throwing an egg at a rock, even if it’s just a futile struggle.
I will fight, clinging to a thread of hope.

“Bloom.”

In the terror that froze even the air, Shiwoo.
Raised the spear of meaningless resistance.
The spear he had honed for the past three years to escape absurdity.
Now, he aimed it at the enemy, to confront malice.

2.
Amelia was curled up.
In the nameless grove of the Gehenna cork trees.
She had fled to the small cabin where she had buried her teacher’s memories.

She curled her limbs on the rocking chair where her teacher had always sat reading,
Burying her nose in the blanket she had always covered herself with, desperately clutching it like a baby burrowing into its mother’s arms.

“Master…”

No matter how complicated things get, they melt away warmly when I come here.
Like being drunk on a dream, I could cling to the tattered remnants of the past, crying, laughing, and running away.
It felt like the gentle touch that I hadn’t forgotten even after so many years was caressing my head.

“I’m back. Master…”

Nothing else matters.
Not the eye-popping array of desserts, the stinging cigarette smoke, or the fancy clothes.
None of it matters.

Relationships with others only bring pain.
Clutching my heart, which felt like it was about to tear, I repeated that this was where Amelia Merigold belonged.

“I won’t go anywhere anymore…”

Amelia rubbed her cheek against the blanket, curling up more and more, and closed her eyes tightly.
And…

“Oh, I knew it.”

The only time Amelia was truly happy.
A firm voice snatched her away from her escape into their shared memories.
Amelia quickly turned her head to look behind her.
There, Sophia stood with her arms crossed, looking pitiful.

“Wh-who told you to come in here without permission? And how did you even know I was here…”
“If things went well, I wouldn’t have needed to go all the way to the mansion, and if they went wrong, there’s no way you’d come looking for me again with your personality. It’s obvious.”

In fact, if Amelia had just followed Sophia’s advice, they would have reconciled without any major issues.
However, Sophia never overestimated Amelia’s emotional expression skills.
Just in case things went wrong, she leisurely transformed into a crow and flew to the cabin.
Seeing her like this, it seems things went off the rails faster than expected.

“I want to be alone. Please leave.”

Sophia noticed the tears welling up in Amelia’s eyes.
She sighed deeply and approached Amelia.

“Tell me what happened.”
“Wh-why should I tell you…”
“We’re friends.”

It was the first time Sophia had seen Amelia looking so forlorn since returning to Gehenna.
As a friend, it was a relief that Amelia, who had always acted emotionlessly like an empty wax doll, was now feeling emotions in some direction.
But how could she just stand by and watch her pitifully clinging to her old master’s blanket and sobbing?

“Tell me, I’ll listen. I won’t laugh or think it’s ridiculous.”
“………”
“Of course, if there’s something you need to be scolded for, I’ll point it out sharply. But I guarantee, it’ll be much, much easier than keeping it all to yourself, okay?”

Sophia squatted down to meet Amelia’s eye level, who was slumped over on the armchair.
Amelia’s lips, which were trembling so pitifully, opened.

“A slave… dared… to say such outrageous things to me… he… he insulted me… and I, for him… I even offered him gifts he would like… and a proposal…”

Amelia spoke haltingly in a thin, cracked voice.
Her tone sounded like she was about to burst into tears at any moment.

“He insulted you?”

Sophia’s jaw dropped.
As a close friend of Amelia’s, she had seen him many times and knew him well.
If she had to categorize him, he was not a steadfast and unusual type, closer to a revolutionary, a saint, or a hero.
Putting aside intelligence, he was just an ordinary person, like anyone else, who was timid, cautious, and had a kind side.

The fact that he had hurled insults at Amelia right in front of her was hard to imagine.
More than that, how messed up did things have to get for this situation to occur?

“I can’t forgive him… No, I won’t care anymore… Apologies or whatever… I hate it all… I’m done… I listened to you again this time…”
“Did you apologize properly?”
“….I was going to, I was going to… I even practiced writing it down… but…”

Amelia told Sophia the whole story, as if pouring out her heart.
From what she heard, she had offered him a position as an assistant.
Moreover, it seemed she had put off the apology and just rattled on about what she wanted to say.

“This is just…”

She had shattered his only hope of going to the mortal realm and then offered him compensation as if doing him a favor, so it was no wonder he had lashed out.

“….I can’t be angry… I wanted to be angry… but I couldn’t be angry. I was crying… I must have made him cry, right? He’s crying because of me, right?”

Finally, the tears that had been clinging to the corners of Amelia’s eyes trickled down her cheeks.
Poor Amelia.
Sophia reached out and hugged Amelia tightly.

“Amelia, Amelia… oh dear… I should have explained it better.”
“…..Sob…..”

Normally, Amelia would have pushed Sophia away out of pride, but she stayed still and instead nestled quietly in Sophia’s arms.
Sophia stroked Amelia’s small, round head.

“I don’t know how to look at him anymore… I hate him, but… when I think of him crying… my heart feels strange… it throbs, it hurts, it gets hot… I don’t know what to do…”
“It’s okay. Everyone can make mistakes. What’s important is to fix them.”
“I can’t… I won’t anymore…”

In Sophia’s eyes, it was a terribly inadequate swing, but for Amelia, it must have been the result of a great effort.
Seeing the once-proud Amelia so dejected, Sophia felt a pang of sympathy first.
But sympathy was sympathy, and she still had to say what needed to be said.

“Amelia.”
“…….”
“There’s something I want to tell you.”

She was going to tell her a story she had been hesitant to share because it was too petty and felt like she was cornering Amelia.

“It’s about the day you went on a date with Siwoo’s assistant in Border Town.”