Chapter 15 : The Witch’s Intentions

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Can’t sleep.

It’s been a week since the Demon King was created, yet during this week, Lanafit has been suffering from insomnia.

Fortunately, witches don’t need to sleep, but sitting alone in bed through the long night waiting for morning to arrive is its own kind of torment.

The unchanging moon shines in the night sky—full, yet stripped of its former beauty by its constancy. 

After just over a month, Lanafit finds herself beginning to understand what it means to be a witch: the loneliness.

Is immortality really such a blessing?

Confined to these floating islands in the sky, living in luxury that never changes—days like this, endlessly repeating—makes death seem like the better option.

During this week, Anthera introduced her to many of the other witches. 

Unlike Roseithe, whose social circle is—let’s say—hated by both people and dogs, Anthera, being the highly respected Seventh Witch, is quite beloved among the others. 

Lanafit has simply been benefiting from that glow.

Wait, you’re asking why Roseithe’s circle is so despised?

Because nearly every witch has hung a plaque at their front door saying:

“Roseithe Elodé is banned from entering.”

One time, Lanafit even saw Roseithe attempting to sneak into a fellow witch’s home—only to be chased around the entire island four or five times by a large dog-shaped familiar.

To be rejected to that degree, the senior witches must have endured a lot of harassment over the last hundred years. 

Still, it’s impressive that Roseithe has managed to stay devoted to bothering them for a whole century.

Maybe, in her own twisted way, it’s her method of coping with loneliness.

All in all, Lanafit has gotten along quite well with the other witches.

Well… aside from one thing that makes her uncomfortable:

Whenever someone finds out that her guide is Roseithe, their gaze immediately turns pitying.

Why are you all looking at me like that?

I’ve never once let that pervert get away with anything, okay?!

One witch even hugged her while sobbing, telling her to “stay strong” and “don’t give up hope.”

I said she’s never succeeded, so why won’t any of you believe me?!

Lanafit was left speechless. 

These days, she tries to avoid the topic entirely when chatting with the others. But that… may have backfired.

Soon, rumors started spreading that “Roseithe must never be mentioned in front of Lanafit”—that it would reopen her traumatic scars.

Word got around that Lanafit had been “overwhelmed and broken every single night” for the past month while living at Roseithe’s house—some even said she was being tied up and trained in all sorts of humiliating ways, hence why she “slept in every morning.”

Honestly, aren’t these witches supposed to be dignified elders who’ve lived for hundreds or thousands of years?!

Turns out, when it comes to gossip, they’re no better than the old ladies gossiping at a village well.

Enraged beyond reason, Lanafit decided to find the source of the rumors—regardless of whether they were a centuries-old senior witch or not, she’d beat them half to death if she had to.

And then…

She found Roseithe herself, proudly bragging to the others about the “steamy, passionate nights” she shared with Lanafit.

Right.

To this day, there are still a few humanoid craters in the spot where Lanafit encountered Roseithe that time—currently in the process of auto-repairing.

As of now, aside from Golia Syharper, the 33rd Witch who remains shut indoors, the only witches Lanafit has yet to meet are the First, Second, and Third.

Apparently, they’re incredibly busy and rarely have free time. 

It’s said that even catching a glimpse of them once a year is rare.

Lanafit is curious about these earliest witches, but since she can’t meet them right now, there’s no point stressing over it.

She has plenty of time. 

She’ll meet them eventually.

…

Now then, about the Demon King—

Although the long speech at the beginning of the ritual was technically the incantation for the creation ceremony, the final words spoken were ones Lanafit chose herself.

When she created the Demon King, she saw his tragic past.

She understood his hatred, and why the Demon God’s will selected him to become the Demon King.

Even near death, he had clung to his sense of righteousness, only to be trampled and mocked, dying a meaningless death. 

His final spark of goodness was twisted into malice.

Someone like that would surely become the enemy of the world, eventually slain by a hero.

The Demon God’s will… is truly merciless.

That’s why Lanafit said those words at the end: “Live well.”

Even if she knows that, under the arrangements of fate, it’s all going to be in vain—

She still wanted him to live.

In the days since, Lanafit hadn’t paid any attention to the Demon King she created.

While this might be seen as irresponsible for a creator, she simply couldn’t bring herself to observe everything he was about to do as a detached bystander.

Part of her felt guilt—toward the Demon King, who was being used.

But it was also a form of cowardly escape, laced with hypocrisy.

And yet…

As she wrestled with her thoughts about the will of the Demon God and the future of the Demon King, a desire had begun to grow in her heart—

She wanted to see the world with her own eyes.

To experience it herself.

To travel with her own two feet, to witness the world as it truly was.

Sure, the witches could observe any corner of the mortal world from their high perch in the floating islands above.

But for Lanafit, that felt like nothing more than distant voyeurism.

She wanted to be a participant, not a spectator.

Perhaps it was just a temporary escape from the eternal loneliness that awaited her as an immortal witch.

Or maybe it was a way to distract herself—from her fear of the Demon God’s existence, from her inner turmoil about the Demon King’s future.

How ridiculous…

Lanafit often mocked herself this way.

Compared to the other witches, perhaps she—the 35th Witch—was a little too softhearted.

But it couldn’t be helped.

So, after an entire week of agonizing over it, she finally approached Anthera and Roseithe to express her thoughts.

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…

Though honestly, just looking at Roseithe made her want to punch her in the face.

Still, Lanafit had to admit: Out of all the witches, Roseithe—the one she’d lived with for an entire month—was the one she was closest to.

Say what you will about her motivations (which were absolutely lust-driven), her friendliness toward Lanafit had always been genuine.

And since she was Lanafit’s guide, it was only natural to consult her about something this important.

…

“What?! Lanafit dear wants to go to the lower world?! I absolutely forbid it!”

Sure enough, the moment Lanafit voiced her intentions, Roseithe was the first to oppose her.

“My sweet, adorable Lanafit will definitely catch the attention of those filthy males the moment she sets foot down there! They’ll stare at her with disgusting, lewd eyes and imagine her like this and like that—waaah! My Lanafit’s going to be tainted!”

Right.

Lanafit immediately regretted asking this idiot for advice.

Watching her flail around in a full-on delusional meltdown, Lanafit gave up expecting anything constructive.

Instead, she turned toward Anthera, who was quietly sipping tea with a calm expression.

Anthera held her delicate teacup, slowly savoring each sip of her red tea.

Her elegant brows furrowed slightly.

This was… perhaps the first time Lanafit had seen that kind of expression on her face.

She seemed to be silently weighing the idea Lanafit had brought up.

But within the depths of her dark grey eyes, Lanafit caught a faint glimpse of something else.

Concern.

She didn’t say anything to press the matter.

Lanafit simply waited patiently for Anthera’s response.

(Oh, and she casually knocked out Roseithe—who was lunging at her for a hug—with a sapling of the World Tree.)

Finally, once she had drained the last drop of tea from her cup, Anthera looked up and met her gaze.