SWNOVELXO Chapter 12
Chapter 12.
Every spring comes.
Winter slowly flows away with the cold wind, and the season arrives when fresh shoots begin to sprout in the pleasantly cool weather.
So, like the newly sprouted shoots, I make a new resolution.
I can no longer delay this.
Like a university assignment that comes once a month, it’s finally here in front of me.
Last time it was the assignment about building a house for a witch, the time before that was about teaching a witch to study, and the semester before that I finished the assignments on feeding and applying medicine.
This time, another assignment shakes me, saying it must be done next.
“….”
Right.
The witch.
It’s really time to wash her.
But I have a question.
To the unnamed professor… or should I call you the author since it’s a novel?
Anyway, how on earth am I supposed to wash a witch who can’t even step out of the alley?
For that reason, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.
If I were to use a childish naming sense, I might call it the “Operation to Wash the Grimy Witch”.
I’ve fed her, applied her medicine, and taught her how to study, plus I even built her a house to protect her from rain and snow.
Now it’s truly time to wash off the grime accumulated over the years.
It’s not because the smell was severe the other time; I’m just assisting step by step.
That’s all there is to it.
Still, saying a girl smells is rude.
“….”
Ugh, the smell.
Anyway.
The candidate locations I’ve considered are roughly four places.
The big bathhouse, my house, the restroom at the grocery store, and finally, the public restroom in the square.
Unfortunately, three of those dropped out from the start.
The big bathhouse would expose her ash-colored hair to the world as soon as we arrive.
The bathroom in my house is currently out of the question since Mom spends very little time outside, making it impossible to sneak in.
The grocery store’s restroom could work since I could take her there before my uncle leaves for work, but it feels wrong to betray his trust, and I feel a bit guilty about that.
So, if there’s any possibility, I think the public restroom in the square might be the answer.
There are concerns like the square manager’s regular patrols and that it can only be done at night when no one is around, but at least there’s no issue with using it.
I just need to solve the fact that I’m still a child who has to return home in the evening.
Hmm.
“Maybe I should run away….”
I can’t even imagine her going to wash in the public restroom in the square by herself even if I explain it to her.
Or maybe I should just bring a bucket of water and wash her a little roughly.
After only about 30 minutes of pondering, I still haven’t decided on anything, and I feel like my renewed resolution welcoming spring is about to be broken.
Just then, while I was tilting my head in thought, a loud shout came from behind me.
“Ain! If you have time to talk about running away, then hurry up and sweep the floor! Customers will be here soon, you fool!”
My uncle completely crushes the half-formed resolution.
So, I guess there’s no time to waste; let’s just get to work.
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“What are you suddenly thanking me for? No need for that; just clean!”
“Yes, sir.”
I’ll work hard and earn plenty of money.
My day passes quite quickly.
As I get used to the grocery store work, the afternoon rushes by, and as I close up the store with my uncle, the sun gradually sets, ushering in twilight.
After finishing work, I head home with the dinner my uncle gives me.
I greet the different shopkeepers I pass by with a bow.
If I run into the mothers who frequently visit the grocery store, I give them a shy smile as well.
Even now, having turned 9 and with spring approaching, nothing really changes, so my days always pass just the same.
Then it comes around once a month.
When the designated day arrives, the winding clock that had only turned in the same way becomes a bit off-kilter.
Following that mismatched gear, a time of mischief begins that doesn’t quite fit with what a good child should be doing.
I don’t really consider it mischief, but that’s how history has been set by the world to define it.
Approaching the ash-colored is not right.
Trying to save the ash-colored is the wrong action.
Those who have an interest in the ash-colored are evildoers.
For hundreds of years, the enduring shackles that haven’t changed have whispered in my ear that my actions are evil.
Yet.
I still choose.
I vow not to follow the rules set forth by the world and by the novel.
I am not a character.
I declare I will walk a different path from the characters and step onto that different path.
And once again, the monthly reminder returns.
Today, I had resolved to break free from the role of a good child.
Late at night.
With both Mom and Dad asleep, the scenery has quieted down, and I carefully stepped out.
Creeak- Creak-
A somewhat unsettling noise comes from the floor, but hearing Dad’s steady snoring puts my mind at ease, allowing me to take the next step.
I had already told the ash-colored girl to wait for me as I would come find her during the night.
I had already handed her soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a few towels to start, so I just need to sneak out.
“….”
Creeak-
Tonight, the floor seems to creak particularly loudly, but the novel insists that characters should be sleeping at night.
So nothing at all will happen.
Still sleeping soundly is the young child; Dad eases his fatigue with gentle snoring, and Mom mutters in her sleep.
Tonight, we are merely adhering to those roles.
I think so as I carefully open the door and step outside.
Instead of the sun, the moon hangs high in the night sky.
Only the streetlights illuminate the area, in the empty capital of the Empire.
“….”
I take a moment to take in that scenery with my eyes before heading toward my destination.
It’s quiet.
Tap- Tap- Tap-
The hurried sound of my slippers hitting the ground echoes down the deserted marketplace.
The sight of the dark marketplace combined with the resonating sound of my slippers feels a bit eerie.
It’s not because it’s dark and scary like a child’s typical fear.
If I had to say, I keep feeling that although this is what reality’s night would be like, it’s only because it’s a novel that it appears this way.
How long have I been running?
The streets remain dark and silent.
Aside from the fact that there’s not a single person around, it continues on unchanged.
However, the only difference in this situation is…
The ash-colored hair peeking out from the alley I was trying to enter.
“… I’ve been waiting.”
Unlike the daytime, which requires one to stay hidden, a girl who comes out into the alley leading to the marketplace and peeks her head out is distinctly different.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“… Okay.”
So I take the basket she brought and grasp her now-empty little hand, leading her.
Though I feel a bit serious due to my unnecessary thoughts, today’s task is the operation to wash the witch.
I don’t care; let’s just run to the square.
So in the late night, the public restroom at Kathe Square echoes with the sound of water.
“Breathe out,” I instruct.
“Krung…”
Fortunately, there’s a sink that provides warm water.
There stands the witch being washed in a daze, and I’m the one washing the ash-colored girl with her eyes nearly shut.
Actually, I hadn’t planned to wash her myself.
But once we arrived at the square’s restroom, I handed her the washing supplies and told her to get inside.
Even when I urged her to wash, the witch just tilted her head and stood there in confusion.
It’s obvious she’s never washed before, so she wouldn’t know what it even means to wash.
That’s where it is.
With her eyes half-open, I lather her hair with soap, help her wash her face, and scrub away the grime.
“Ah…”
“What is it?”
“… It’s warm.”
Then it must feel warm.
As she stands still, I lather her with bubbles, pouring warm water continuously to scrub away the dirt.
If I don’t do all this while ensuring she feels warm, then that would be a strange story.
This is what I would call the normalization of a witch.
I take care of it all.
After quite a long time and washing her diligently, the grimy appearance she had when she first walked in is nowhere to be found.
Her skin is fair, more than I could adequately express.
I remember she was dirty and gloomy until the end in the story, but this witch now looked like a girl of her age.
Although that vacant expression remained, not knowing what she was thinking.
I wrap the now-washed girl in a towel and dry her off vigorously.
“It’s warm…”
“…”
Right.
It’s supposed to be warm because that’s what I want for her.
Winter has long passed, but even in spring, the night breeze is quite chilly, so I need to dry her off properly after washing.
Even though witches don’t catch colds from the cold, it wouldn’t be appropriate to leave her freezing after being washed.
Anyway, that’s how it is.
After drying her off completely, I took out the small clothes I had briefly bought at the store in the afternoon and dressed her.
“Ah…”
It was a simple outfit, bought under the notion that I couldn’t possibly put the same tattered piece she had on before back on her.
Why kids’ clothes have to be so expensive, I still can’t fathom it; even with a charming smile, I still ended up with a considerable loss.
So, now clad in the new clothes, I face her again.
Her hair, which had been tangled and stiff, sways lightly despite still being wet.
Her arms and legs, as well as her face, are now pristine without any of the grime left.
Along with wearing new clothes instead of the dirty ones, she resembles a commonly seen child.
Of course, her characteristic dazed expression remains.
Nonetheless, the sight of her looking clean and tilting her head adorably is quite pleasant.
Even as she fidgets with her hands and feet, she gazes at only me.
As if wanting to say something, she keeps opening her mouth without a sound.
I smile unexpectedly and meet her gaze.
And then.
“… Ah.”
Responding to my smile, her expression slowly begins to change.
Her previously vacant eyes curve into crescent shapes, and dimples appear at the corners of her mouth.
She smiles.
A girl, whose emotions had seemed so thin, breaks into a smile.
Looking directly at me, she smiles a childlike smile, solely directed toward me.
Today has come to an end, somewhat longer than usual.
Saying our goodbyes with plans to meet again.
Carefully re-entering the quiet house.
Dad’s steady snoring.
Feeling oddly proud, I lie down with a smile and close my eyes, slowly drifting into a dream.
A hazy journey into dreams.
A gentle hand patting my head.
Warmth.
The carefully closing door.
Thus, the day comes to an end.