“This is bad,” Rebecca muttered, her face darkening as she quickly turned and made her way down to the first floor.
“Lady Mi, we’ve got trouble. Bémore’s here to mess with us.”
She slipped soundlessly into Samimi’s room and delivered the news about the white-haired witch’s arrival at Darkmoon Dormitory with lightning speed. You could say she tattled faster than thunder strikes.
“Did you steal your stealth technique from Wolfie? And what’s with ‘Lady Mi’ now?”
Samimi had been meditating when Rebecca shook her awake.
“Mimi, what should we do?”
Rebecca switched to a more affectionate nickname instantly.
“Stick to ‘Lady Mi.’ And what should we do? Absolutely nothing,” Samimi yawned.
“Where’s Niubao?”
“Niubao’s probably training with her sword on the rooftop. I’m being serious here—Bémore must be up to no good. Knowing the Fire School, she might’ve come to literally set the place on fire,” Rebecca warned.
“Come on, we were teammates. Don’t talk bad about people. Let’s just go greet her with a friendly face. Maybe we can bury the hatchet,” Samimi replied calmly.
Huh? Is this really the Samimi we know? Choosing forgiveness? Did she change personalities?
“Mimi, she made you lose everything. You can really forgive her?” Rebecca asked in disbelief.
“You tried to sabotage me too, didn’t you? And now we’re besties. Revenge never ends. Let’s act like proper members of the Church—gracious and forgiving.” Samimi smiled gently.
“But… okay, fine. I’ll listen to you.”
Rebecca sighed, unable to argue back.
After all, she did have some shady past of her own. She wasn’t exactly in a position to point fingers at Bémore. Still, her grudge wasn’t going away anytime soon.
It was a classic case of: “The emperor’s calm, but the eunuch is panicking.”
But would a schemer like Samimi really forgive Bémore so easily?
Nope—don’t fall into the trap of using kindergarten-level logic to guess what goes on in Samimi’s head.
To be honest, Samimi didn’t really care about the whole “forgiveness” thing. As a transmigrator, she didn’t hold grudges the way original characters might.
What motivated her actions? Profit and pleasure.
And in most cases, she wanted both. That’s why it was nearly impossible to predict what she was thinking. Sometimes, not even Samimi herself knew.
One thing was certain, though: knowing Samimi’s chaotic and grudge-holding nature, Bémore had just walked right into the tiger’s den.
“The dorm leader said there’s a welcome party tonight. Want to skip it?” Rebecca suggested.
“Why should we hide? We haven’t done anything wrong. Let’s skip class today and meet her tonight.” Samimi yawned and returned to meditation.
Rebecca couldn’t change her mind. She dutifully closed the windows, locked the doors, and left quietly, returning to her own room next door to avoid disturbing her beloved Lady Mi.
And as for Samimi? She had zero anxiety about Bémore’s arrival. She just kept meditating—until nightfall.
Knock knock knock!
A series of knocks pulled her from her trance. Samimi finally climbed off her bed.
Say what you will, ever since arriving in this fantasy world, she hadn’t stopped training. She absorbed mana from the environment daily, without taking even one proper day off.
“What an idiot. Locking herself out of her own room…”
Samimi grumbled as she went to answer the door.
Sure enough, outside stood Rebecca.
The priestess had gone all out: she wore her most formal white priest robes, clutched a plain wooden staff, donned a massive holy healing bonnet, and even wore a sacred cross around her neck. She was fully armed like it was Judgment Day.
“Who’s getting married? Are you going to be the maid of honor?” Samimi deadpanned.
“Lady Mimi, please get dressed properly. You can’t be wandering around in your pajamas,” Rebecca scolded.
“What? I have to wear formal clothes in my own dorm?” Samimi protested.
“Also, what’s this combo title—‘Lady Mimi’?”
“Lady Mimi, we’re going to attend the welcome party for Bémore Joshua, the White-Haired Witch. Even if we’re not going to target her outright, we should assert our dominance a little. After all, we’re going to be living together now,” Rebecca said sternly.
“We’re already housemates—what’s the point in being petty? I’m not changing. I like the breeze.”
Samimi stepped out in her cool, barely-there sleepwear.
Her outfit: a sheer shirt and teeny side-tied shorts—definitely not appropriate for guests. But then again, Darkmoon Dorm was full of girls, and some of them wore things that made Samimi look modest by comparison.
“Lady Mimi… sigh…”
Rebecca gave up and followed her out with a long sigh.
In the end, she took off her own priest cloak and draped it over Samimi’s back—at least to cover the view from behind.
“Where’s Niubao?” Samimi asked again.
“Minuo’s still on the rooftop, practicing swordplay,” Rebecca replied.
“Still? That silly ox is relentless. Go call her to eat.”
“I already did. She said she’ll come after a hundred more swings.”
“If she says a hundred swings, that probably means a thousand. If she says a thousand, it’s ten thousand. You’ve been scammed,” Samimi muttered.
The two walked down the hallway and into the main hall of Darkmoon Dormitory.
It had been set up adorably for a casual tea-party-style gathering. Light snacks and fruit were arranged neatly on the coffee table.
Several of the dorm’s girl mages sat around the sofas chatting. The mood wasn’t exactly lively—only Dorm Leader Brayetta was delivering a formal welcome speech.
No helping it—both sleepyhead Alyssa and the white spider mage were the antisocial types who never spoke.
Wolfie, like Niubao, was a food-motivated half-beast. She showed up for the snacks.
“Ah, you’ve arrived. Let me introduce you to—”
Brayetta looked delighted to see Samimi and Rebecca, clearly relieved that finally, some normal people had shown up.
“No need to introduce. I know them.”
Suddenly, a cold voice came from the center sofa.
A pale figure stood up, her white hair fluttering as she turned. That beautiful yet lifeless witch’s face came into view—it was Bémore.
She was putting on a show. Cool, aloof, invincible—even though she was just a shy, socially anxious girl.
But the moment she saw Samimi’s revealing pajamas, her brow furrowed in disgust. She clearly disapproved of such tacky, revealing outfits.
“My dear friend, Bémore! Long time no see. How have you been?”
Samimi beamed and stepped forward, arms open for a hug.
“Sorry, I got a bit excited to see an old friend.”
But when she noticed Bémore’s clear reluctance to make physical contact, her hands froze awkwardly in midair. She quickly retracted them with a dry laugh.
“!!!???”
The gentle greeting, the graceful emergency halt, and the awkward-but-polite smile—all of it left Bémore completely stunned.
Why?
Because she had mentally rehearsed a hundred different ways this reunion could go—but not once had she predicted this.