In an elegant and girlishly decorated room, bright sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting a warm glow on the peaceful face of a sleeping girl.
The sunlight made the girl in her dreams furrow her brow and turn to the side to avoid the harsh glare, exposing only her long gray-white hair to the light.
Freed from the discomfort of the sunlight, her face softened again, wearing a blissful expression—as if she were having a fulfilling and happy dream.
Suddenly—
“BANG—!!!”
With a loud crash, the door was flung open violently, and a red figure burst into the room.
“Lanafit-chan, time to get uuuup!”
So loud this early in the morning—no one could cause such a ruckus except Roseithe.
But when she saw that the commotion had no effect on Lanafit, who continued to sleep soundly, her eyes narrowed.
“Oh my, what a lazy kitty. Always sleeping in. That’s not a good habit, you know. Looks like I’ll have to give this unmotivated little kitten a proper lesson. Ehehehe…”
Looking at Lanafit’s peaceful sleeping face, a wicked grin crept onto Roseithe’s lips.
The expression looked so out of place on such a beautiful woman—it was outright disturbing.
Her previously brash movements suddenly turned sneaky and quiet.
Roseithe tiptoed closer to the bed where Lanafit still slept.
When she reached the bedside, she leaned in, eyes locked on the tempting sight of the girl before her.
Overcome by wicked desire, she grew bold.
“Hehehe, I’ve failed so many times before, but today I have to get a proper taste of sweet Lanafit-chan…”
As she said this, she puckered her lips and lunged toward the sleeping girl, clearly aiming to steal a kiss first.
“BANG—!!”
Another crash echoed, but this time it wasn’t the door being kicked in—it was Roseithe herself being launched across the room, slamming into the wall with great force.
“Pff—!! Cough cough!!”
The recoil from hitting the wall was no joke.
Roseithe coughed violently, eyes filled with disbelief as she stared at Lanafit—who still wore the same peaceful expression in her sleep.
In the end, Roseithe could only let out a bitter, defeated smile.
“A barrier spell…? You really don’t let your guard down, huh, Lanafit-chan…”
…
…
By the time it was already 9:30, Lanafit finally opened her hazy eyes.
She sat up in bed and stretched with a satisfied yawn.
Covering her mouth, she glanced over at the corner of the room—where Roseithe was slumped against the wall, her whole body looking like it had turned to ash, completely burnt out.
“Yaaawn~ What kind of performance art is it this time, making a scene this early?”
With a wave of her hand, the shimmering barrier surrounding her vanished.
It was the same magic that not only blocked all outside attacks but also sound and vibration.
Just then, Roseithe, who had looked lifeless a moment ago, suddenly sprang toward Lanafit.
“Captured~!”
Lanafit, having just dispelled her barrier and not expecting such a move, was immediately tackled into a tight hug.
“Hehehehe! Lanafit-chan, you’re still too naïve. Once I get this close, you’re in for a very thorough punishment~!”
Feeling hands starting to wander behind her, Lanafit’s expression stayed flat as she calmly extended her hand toward the door—where a tall wooden staff stood, leaning against the wall.
A deep violet gemstone was embedded at the top.
The moment she reached out, the staff flew into her hand as if drawn by a powerful force.
Gripping it, Lanafit gave Roseithe—still trying to grope her—a deadpan glance, then swung the staff and smacked her hard on the head.
“Thunk—!”
“Oww!!”
A sharp smack echoed as Roseithe clutched her head and stumbled back several steps.
“It’s been a whole month now, and you still haven’t learned your lesson?”
Lanafit’s tone carried a hint of helplessness as she looked at Roseithe, who was now crouching in the corner, holding her head in pain.
Over the past month, Roseithe had practically broken into her room every single day to try and ambush her.
Each time, Lanafit was forced to come up with new countermeasures, because any magic used once would no longer work on Roseithe a second time.
Thankfully, due to that thick magical book in the Pure White Room, Lanafit never lacked for powerful and creative spells.
As a result, Roseithe had yet to succeed even once.
By the way, “Pure White Room” was the name Lanafit had given the space inside her spiritual world where that floating, unusually thick magic book resided.
Since everything around it was white, she called it that.
Oddly enough, it was thanks to Roseithe’s tireless sneak attacks that Lanafit ended up reading half of that massive tome and mastering all the spells she’d come across so far.
And to a depth that made them unforgettable—literally burned into memory.
So in a way, she really did owe Roseithe some thanks for that.
Not that Lanafit had any intention of saying that aloud—otherwise this woman would definitely take it as an invitation to push further.
Roseithe, meanwhile, was now holding her red, swollen head.
A soft white glow emerged from her palm, and the swelling began to heal visibly, fading away almost instantly.
Healing magic—a subtype of Light-element magic.
Watching her, Lanafit felt a twinge of sadness in her heart.
Witches were supposed to be able to wield all types of magic.
Every witch on the archipelago could do so—except for Lanafit.
She couldn’t use Light-element magic.
Which also meant she couldn’t use healing magic.
She had asked many other witches about it, but no one knew the reason.
The only conclusion she could come to was that it had something to do with her divine role:
Witch of Curses and Calamities.
A witch tasked with spreading despair across the world could hardly be expected to heal or bring light to others.
That was the domain of other witches—those entrusted with powers of justice and salvation.
The thought left her quietly disheartened.
But there was nothing to be done.
At least witches possessed strong vitality by nature, which was some small comfort.
As for why she was able to hurt Roseithe so easily earlier—that was thanks to the staff in her hand.
Though it looked plain, like nothing more than a carved piece of wood, the staff was actually made from a sapling of the World Tree.
The World Tree leaf that had landed in her hand during the ceremony—Lanafit had casually tossed it aside in the garden after Roseithe had taken her to meet Anthera.
But five days ago, Roseithe had burst into her room in a panic, dragging her half-asleep to the garden.
There, in what had been a neatly manicured space tended by fairies, a sapling over a meter tall and as thick as a forearm had suddenly sprouted from the soil.
The World Tree leaf had germinated and grown into an actual sapling—something no one in the entire witch world had ever seen before.
And so, dozens of witches—who’d been bored for centuries—came swarming to Roseithe’s garden.
This garden, which had long been her symbolic dream of a future harem but had never served any real purpose, suddenly became a major gathering place.
In a way, it fulfilled her fantasy.
All eyes were drawn to the little tree, with exclamations of awe and curiosity.
After all, World Tree leaves were supposed to dissolve into the world’s will shortly after assigning a divine role.
But Lanafit’s leaf hadn’t disappeared—it had taken root and grown.
Letting the sapling just sit there didn’t seem right, so everyone started discussing what to do with it.
Some suggested just keeping it as a garden plant.
Some proposed transplanting it elsewhere for cultivation.
A few even said it should be destroyed—no one knew how to handle a World Tree sprout.
Since there was no guidance from the Demon God, they were truly at a loss.
Eventually, Ander End, the Fourth Witch and the oldest among them, came up with an unconventional solution.
She proposed turning the sapling into a staff.
Since it was Lanafit’s leaf, the staff would naturally belong to her.
Ander End, who was also the creator of the fairies and the Witch of Earth and Harvest, got Lanafit’s permission, and then, with the help of several witches and their combined authority, transformed the tree into a staff the height of a person.
After that, Anthera, the Witch of Reincarnation and Transmigration, added the deep violet gem now embedded at the top.
And just like that, this staff became Lanafit’s personal magical artifact.
Interestingly, the sapling was still “alive.” If Lanafit ever wanted, it could take root and grow again anywhere she wished.
Though if she wanted it turned back into a staff, she’d have to trouble several witches all over again.
As Lanafit ran her fingers along the wooden grain of her oversized staff, her gaze lingered on it.
“You really are fond of that dumb stick, huh?”
Roseithe’s sour voice cut in at that moment.
Among all the witches, this Witch of Lust was probably the one who cared the least about the World Tree sapling.
To her, it was nothing more than a weed growing in her beloved garden.
She had wanted to yank it out immediately.
Unfortunately, even as a sapling, the World Tree was incredibly tough—minor spells couldn’t harm it, and major ones would probably destroy the entire garden.
That was the only reason she hesitated.
“Well, it’s one of the symbols of my reincarnation into this world. It holds some sentimental value for me. Besides…”
Lanafit turned her gaze toward Roseithe, eyes filled with mischief.
“…it’s also a handy weapon for warding off perverts.”
“Ugh! That’s so cruel, Lanafit-chan! My feelings for you are so sincere, and you’re treating me like some kind of predator? I’m heartbroken…”
Roseithe put on a dramatic expression of sorrow, crying as she wiped at imaginary tears.
“Alright, alright, I was just joking. As long as you don’t go overboard, I won’t hit you with it.”
Lanafit knew she was faking it, but she really wasn’t good at dealing with this kind of performance.
All she could do was wave her hand in surrender, as if begging for peace.
“In that case, as compensation… can I touch your chest?”
…
Lanafit immediately regretted her kindness.
She stared at Roseithe, who had instantly pushed her luck, and it took every ounce of self-restraint not to grab the staff and crack her skull right there and then.
But Roseithe, completely oblivious to danger, continued digging her own grave.
“Ah, don’t worry, Lanafit-chan! I’d never judge you for having a small chest. Honestly, big ones have their charm, and small ones are wonderful in their own way—I love both!”
She grinned lasciviously as she said that, even miming a groping motion in the air with her hands.
“In fact, I could even give you a massage! They say massaging like this can actually help your chest grow—”
BOOM!!
With a deafening crack, the wall split open as Lanafit brought her staff down again with a thunderous blow, her face cold and unreadable.
When the dust settled, Roseithe was embedded in the wall, eyes spinning from the impact.