Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

“With these, everything should be ready.”

In the room, Annelie rubbed her chin as she inspected Hestia’s luggage. Inside were clothes, personal items, self-defense equipment, and even a signal transmitter.

Since Hestia was visiting someone, it was essentially like a short trip, so Annelie took charge of packing.

“This should be enough. There’s no need to go overboard,” Hestia said, feeling slightly embarrassed as she watched Annelie deep in thought. In truth, Hestia had numerous items stored in a spatial inventory, making travel very convenient—though this was a secret she couldn’t casually share with Annelie.

“Nonsense! When I travel far, I take a team of at least ten people—interpreters, caretakers, doctors, and even bodyguards. Everything has to be in place,” Annelie declared, patting her chest.

“If Hestia hadn’t insisted on keeping it simple, I’d have packed everything possible.”

“But at least take Aiko and Ayla with you,” Annelie suggested. These were the twin maids who worked in Hestia’s residence. About 20 years old, the two were Sequence 4 transcendents proficient in various skills, from housekeeping and cooking to translation and combat.

“Traveling alone would be far too inconvenient.”

After considering the suggestion, Hestia nodded. She realized having them along might indeed be helpful.

With the preparations complete, the three boarded a small aircraft from Edess Academy. Soon, the sleek silver craft lifted off, heading toward the Southern 4th District.

The vibrant mix of red and green foliage created a rich, sprawling tapestry below. Ranbell’s home was nestled among these undulating forests and hills, with only the occasional gray road weaving through the trees to indicate habitation.

The aircraft landed at a white castle, letting its passengers disembark before taking off again into the distant sky.

“Welcome!”

Ranbell greeted Hestia with a few family members and staff by her side on the castle’s helipad.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” Ranbell said cheerfully as she approached, taking Hestia’s hand and leading her toward her family.

Hestia quickly noticed a distinct feature among the family: nearly everyone had light pink or lilac-tinted hair. The soft, pastel tones, mixed with silvery-gray highlights, gave them a dreamy and refined appearance.

Ranbell’s parents, though appearing older with streaks of white in their neatly styled hair, wore understated dark clothing as they welcomed their daughter’s guest.

Besides the parents, there were Ranbell’s younger brother and sister, as well as the family’s butler. The butler, likely in his thirties, had black hair, a slightly hooked nose, and a constant warm smile. Unlike Ranbell’s pink-toned eyes, her younger siblings had striking red irises. The two shyly clung to Ranbell’s dress while stealing curious glances at Hestia.

After settling Hestia into her room and helping her unpack, Ranbell led her on a tour of the castle. Two of Hestia’s maids, Aiko and Ayla, followed closely, along with two of Ranbell’s household maids.

The castle’s cold stone corridors intrigued Hestia. As they walked, she ran her fingers along the walls, noting their cool, sturdy texture.

“These are real stones, aren’t they?” Hestia asked.

“Of course,” Ranbell confirmed.

“This castle and the surrounding ten kilometers of forest belong to our family. It’s rather remote, surrounded by woods, so few find it appealing.”

“How much did it cost to build?”

“I don’t know the exact amount, but it wasn’t as expensive as you might think,” Ranbell explained.

“Our family has been here since the early days of Verdant Veil—back when it didn’t even have a proper name, just a string of letters and numbers. During the initial ecological development, our ancestors invested heavily, securing this land early on.”

“But our family hasn’t been great at managing assets. Over the centuries, we’ve sold off much of the property, leaving only this forest and castle—less than a tenth of what we originally owned.”

Ranbell’s tone was casual, as if the loss didn’t bother her much.

“The forest is occasionally opened to the public for hunting and tourism, which generates some income. Most of it goes toward forest preservation, castle maintenance, and staff wages. It’s not very profitable, but we don’t mind.”

“At this rate, we can probably sustain it for another hundred years. After that, it’ll be up to the next generation,” Ranbell said with a soft laugh.

“Hestia, have you been studying a lot of economics lately? You seem to pay attention to such details.”

“Yes,” Hestia admitted with mild exasperation.

“Economics always felt overly complicated to me, so I gave up early on. Perhaps our family just isn’t suited to dealing with numbers,” Ranbell said, leaning against a window in a high tower overlooking the forest.

The afternoon sun bathed the trees in warm light. Leaves of fiery red and vivid green swayed in the summer breeze, the rustling creating a gentle symphony.

“Take it easy for now. Forget about all those troublesome numbers,” Ranbell said with a smile.

“Alright.”

The rest of the afternoon passed as Ranbell guided Hestia through the castle. Though its design was steeped in historical elegance, it had modern amenities cleverly concealed within antique furnishings.

For example, the pipes behind an ancient organ were part of the ventilation system, a brass and wooden chest in the lounge was actually a refrigerator, and an ornate music box doubled as a projection device.

In the evening, Hestia joined Ranbell’s family for dinner in a grand dining hall. The long table was laden with steaming, exquisite dishes. Maids and attendants carved roast suckling pig, sliced bread, and poured wine.

After the lavish meal, Ranbell took Hestia to a smaller room housing a vintage grand piano. Its gold-embellished details and worn edges hinted at centuries of history.

Seated at the piano, Ranbell’s fingers danced across the keys, weaving a gentle, melodious tune. The soft strains of the music intertwined with the occasional chirping of insects outside, creating a serene summer atmosphere.

Ancient stars, eternal and bright,
Turn the wheel of fateful light.
Three sacred keys, their doors unfold,
Where timeless blooms their hues behold.
Within your gaze, they shall arise,
A garden eternal beneath the skies.

O winds that dance through the endless year,
Lift your voice, let all hearts hear.
Sing of the hero with the spear of flame,
Sing of the witch who the ocean claimed.
Sing of the three saints united as one,
Sing of the steel symphony silenced, undone.

Again and again, in the dawn’s warm embrace,
Steps falter forward, seeking their place.
Tears and joy, in harmony cast,
A canvas of life—reborn, steadfast.

The melody was simple yet increasingly captivating, as if carried across time’s distant river, echoing with the ancient essence of fairy tales and legends.