Chapter 80: “You… who are you?”

The world is not wonderful; that’s what I’ve always believed.

My mother was a Witch. She gave birth to me during her travels and took me along as she journeyed the world. In other words, I was a traveling Witch from the very start.

My mother—she was an arrogant, gentle, and trouble-loving fool, almost exactly like Aurora.

She never thought things through too much. She always acted on the very first idea that popped into her head, which often got her tricked by others. There was even a time she was almost swindled out of every last coin.

I never understood why she liked helping others so much. We were just passing by, after all—wouldn’t it have been easier to let people fend for themselves? Yet whenever I asked, her answer was always the same: because this world is wonderful. Not just its scenery, but also the countless little memories made from trivial things. And among them, every story we encounter shines like a gemstone.

I still haven’t come to understand her words, and I doubt I ever will.

In the end, on my tenth birthday, she reached the end of her own story.

It happened while we were traveling through a country called the Kingdom of Martan. Someone came to her for help—a woman in her fifties or sixties, who grabbed my mother’s hand and pleaded, her eyes full of desperation: “Please, save my child…”

Her son had been snatched away by a giant Magic Beast. And, of course, with my mother being the busybody fool she was, she took on the task without hesitation.

My mother was a powerful Witch. By rights, defeating a large Magic Beast should have been no problem for her. But that Magic Beast was a pack animal.

When she found the nest, she discovered that the child taken as food wasn’t the only one—dozens of children were crying inside the den, waiting to be devoured when they grew too weak to resist. The beasts wouldn’t even spit out the bones.

And my greedy mother, she saved one after another. Those large Magic Beasts had the intelligence of ten-year-old children; they would hold the kids in their mouths as shields. Not wanting to hurt the children by mistake, my mother dared not use large-scale Magic. In the end, exhausted, she was torn to shreds by the Magic Beasts.

It all happened so suddenly that, before I could react, a Magic Beast was already charging at me.

Its gaping maw was wide open, and inside, I could still see half of my mother’s face, not yet swallowed. Her dark eyes were still as gentle as ever, but now, all the light had gone out.

Terrified, I fell to the ground, grabbed the broom my mother had left by my side, and tried to fly just like she did. In the end, I managed it.

That was the first time I flew on a broom by myself—not with excitement, not with joy, but with endless fear and sorrow crowding my heart.

From then on, for a long time, every time I rode the broom into the sky, I would see that half-face in the Magic Beast’s mouth, staring at me.

Her kindness got her killed, and it hurt me too—just like Aurora.

After that, with nowhere to go, I wandered the world alone with the broom my mother left behind.

I didn’t have a single coin to my name, not even basic food. So, to survive, I learned to steal.

A thief who could fly into the sky was a nightmare for many merchants. I can still remember how they ground their teeth in anger.

But once, I got caught by a bastard who knew Magic. He beat me black and blue.

From then on, I understood: to survive better in this world, Magic was essential.

With no money, there was no way I could attend any damn magic academy. So I stole a Magic book from a household and taught myself.

Maybe I inherited my mother’s talent, because learning Magic wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. I didn’t bother studying systematically from beginner to advanced—it was too much trouble and a waste of time. Wouldn’t it be faster to start from the advanced stuff?

So, before long, I passed a kingdom’s Witch assessment and got my Witch’s medal.

Not long after I got the medal, on my way to another kingdom, I met Aurora in a forest.

When I first saw her, there were tears in her eyes, and her body was almost completely faded away.

Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered with her and would have left right then. But at that time, I happened to want to study Fairy Magic, so I brought her along, planning to toss her aside once I was done.

But as the days passed, I could never bring myself to abandon her. I found her more and more interesting.

I liked the way she fumbled and stumbled, liked how she panicked and was at a loss, liked how she relied on me.

She reminded me of my mother. And I hated that about her—that gentle, meddlesome side would end up hurting her, and me, too. I understood that well.

For a long time, I kept telling myself, “I’ll leave her tomorrow. Tomorrow, I definitely will.”

But by the time I realized it, I couldn’t leave her anymore.

Her presence made me feel that maybe my worthless life wasn’t so bad after all.

But in the end, I was right—her senseless kindness ended up hurting me.

I don’t blame her. When she was by my side, I always felt that no matter what mistake she made, even if she ruined my legs, I’d forgive her.

But I never expected that she would run away—while I was resting, she slipped away.

That was when hatred was born, wrapping around my heart and never fading, even to this day.

Love and hate tangled together in my heart, making my already twisted mind even more muddled.

I will never forgive her.

Searching for her was agony. I tried every method to find her. I even repaired her broken heart and put it into my own body, just so I could feel her presence.

Feeling her heart beating inside me, only then did I feel she was by my side, only then did I not go mad during that time.

Finally, I found her. But after so long in depression, my feelings for her were no longer pure love. I wanted revenge. I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to regret leaving me.

I stopped hiding my feelings for her. I tormented her endlessly, demanded everything from her, trying to make her repay every debt she owed me for nearly a hundred years, to make her completely mine.

I thought that as long as I turned her into my familiar, I could keep her by my side forever.

But trouble kept piling up, and I found myself hating this world more and more.

Why does this world always have to be against me? Just when I finally found a reason to keep living, it changed again and again, and I lost it all.

And now, once again, the world opens its gaping maw at me…

*****

“You… who are you?” Aurora looked into Beatrice’s eyes and spoke calmly.