I Picked Up a Witch from a Novel

**Episode 2**

I still remember the scene from that day.

Light descended from the sky, enveloping my body, and the bishops, who had been looking up for a long time, knelt and prayed before me.

Fireworks burst high in the sky, and the citizens of the Empire filled the streets, cheering loudly.

The beautiful beginning of the day I received the excessive title of Holy Girl and faced the Hero for the first time vividly lingers in my mind.

I was so awkward and trembling so much.

“What are you staring at like that?”

“Ah, Hero. It’s nothing. I was just reminiscing.”

“You’re talking nonsense again. If you have time for that, you should get some sleep.”

*Huhuh, as you wish.*

Perhaps it was because of how blunt the Hero was that I was trembling.

A frame larger than a bear, with a large scar crossing his face.

When I first met him, towering over me with a huge great sword slung on his back.

It seems I unknowingly got scared and stepped back.

—

**Excerpt from [Episode□□. The Holy Girl’s Monologue]**

********

A troublesome five-year-old who realized way too early that this world is like one from a novel.

I would have preferred not to know this cruel truth, but now that I do, there’s nothing much I can do about it.

“Mom.”

“Yeah, my son.”

“I want to earn money.”

Even when I express my desire to save money for a future journey to my legal guardian.

“Sure, my son. What can a five-year-old do?”

“… Delivering newspapers, maybe.”

“Right, right. Just finish your meal first~”

Mom just smiled and dismissed me, telling me to make sensible remarks.

“Mom.”

“Okay. What else do you want to say this time, my son?”

“Then give me some pocket money.”

Even though I shamelessly ask for travel funds after being raised by her.

“Son, if your dad, who works hard since early morning, hears you, he will be very sad. Don’t you think?”

“…”

I could only be silenced by that deception trying to turn me into a real ungrateful child.

Does being young mean being naive too?

When I think of my real age, it doesn’t seem that different, but I can never win the argument with words.

Of course, I had never been particularly good with words in the past either, which is a problem on its own.

“I should hurry up and grow up. I can’t do anything.”

“Puhuhu, sometimes you talk like such an old soul, my son. Are you really five?”

That’s the thing.

“…”

Yes, I let her know.

No matter what, I cannot tell you that your son was an adult who died by getting hit by a car.

So, in place of that truth, I spat out a blunt reply.

“… Speaking of which, aren’t you acting quite childish, Mom? You really are twenty-five, right?”

“Hey! Who did you inherit that bad habit of arguing for no reason from?!”

No.

Even so, there’s no need to pinch my cheeks with emotion.

Hands filled with emotion hurt.

And I always think that the difference between an adult and a child cannot be bridged by any means.

So, I had to hang on to my mother’s hand until my cheeks turned so red they were almost swollen.

But…

Honestly, this is just like you.

********

Well.

There was a somewhat noisy event from the morning, but today is quite a special day.

Since my rebirth, every single day has been special, but especially today.

Perhaps it’s because I truly feel like a child, my heart beating fast and bubbling over with excitement.

So, with an adult’s head, I was a bit overly dramatic.

“Mom, let’s hurry.”

“My son…, it’s still over an hour away. Don’t rush… Ugh! Son, don’t pull my skirt! It’ll tear, it’ll tear!”

Mom pulls her precious skirt tightly while I keep tugging.

With her claim that she would do it if I ate plenty of peppers and carrots, it was less appealing to me.

After a week of being tortured with peppers and carrots as hostages, it’s not even a graceful adult act to dilly-dally now.

It’s pathetic how I, having become a mom, have to force myself to eat things I don’t wish to.

That dreadful twenty-five.

So.

“Curse you, skirt.”

“Ugh, come on!”

Step over the skirt’s sacrifice.

Ah, what a beautiful day.

The little bump on my head hurts a bit, but the weather is fantastic.

It’s a blue sky that seems like blessings would pour down like the letters that filled the novel.

And under the clear sky, with not a single cloud in sight, the citizens of the Empire are all walking in one direction.

Towards the vast square that clearly overlooks the palace, they are moving to see the fleeting scene that will unfold there.

And my mom and I were also heading toward the square, following the flow of the crowd.

“Son, don’t let go of my hand. Hold on tight, okay?”

“Ah, I get it. I’m not a little kid; you don’t have to keep saying that.”

“Sorry, but you are still a little kid.”

“…”

At five, I’m grown up enough.

Instead of responding to my busy mom, I gripped her hand tightly and pulled toward the square.

Mom was lagging so much that the time for the revelation was approaching.

“Son, it’s fine to go slowly~”

“… We’re already very late.”

With the revelation, light will pour down from the sky like a miracle, and that brilliant light will illuminate the adventurer who will become the Hero and a nun who worked in the pontifical secretiary.

The first scene that heralds the start of a novel.

I might have said my journey is more important than the protagonist’s journey and the unfolding story, but honestly, there’s no way I could ignore the desire to see that scene with my own two eyes.

So, I was rushing to witness that spectacle.

The large clock tower’s hands point to one o’clock, and the light is going to pour down, but it’s already past twelve fifty.

All because my mom is dawdling.

That dreadful twenty-five.

“Son! Slow down a bit…! I can’t keep up, so let’s go a bit slower, okay?”

“No way. If we go slow, we won’t see it up close.”

And it was a split second when the hand I was holding slipped away.

“No, son…! Oh no, son, I lost your hand…!”

“Ah.”

I let go of Mom’s hand.

I truly believed I was gripping it with all my strength, but why is the strength of a child so weak?

I ended up experiencing the common occurrence of losing her hand while wandering through the crowd, now even denser than before.

Amidst the noise of the crowd, Mom’s voice quickly drifted away.

I tried to go in the direction where Mom would be but had to turn my steps to avoid being trampled by adults.

Towards a less crowded alley, I hastily moved my feet toward that corner of the wall.

I managed to reach the wall and lean against it, but no matter how high I jumped, the little me wouldn’t be visible to Mom.

Looking around like a meerkat, I couldn’t see a trace of her.

“… This is bad.”

Honestly, if I went to the Missing Child Center in the square, Mom would eventually come by, but I would definitely get scolded a lot.

“…”

To be honest, I don’t want to, but I might need a little dramatic crying act.

Because I am not an adult, but a child.

I’m still at an age where I can avoid punishment with tears.

So, I let out a deep sigh and looked up at the clock tower to check how much time was left.

But.

There’s a reason why places are less crowded.

It’s a spot where I can’t see the clock tower, let alone the square itself, blocked by the wall.

I was filled with anticipation to witness the beginning of the novel with my own eyes, but what I ended up with was only the worry and anger that Mom would unleash.

This is a little disappointing.

To put it mildly.

I feel like I’m just a mere extra in this life, not even close to the story’s development.

I didn’t want to intervene in the story’s development, but being forcibly removed from it made me feel a bit sad.

And then.

At that moment, as I turned my head toward the alley in disappointment.

Light poured down from the sky.

La—

Along with it, I heard such sounds.

I.

The sound of an angel’s song flowed quietly, and I watched from a distance as the bright beams illuminated two points in the square.

I was experiencing that scene, though from a very far distance.

Surely in the square where the light poured down, everyone was kneeling and worshipping.

The birth of the Hero and the Holy Girl, reading the revelation that came down with the light.

While it was a great pity that I couldn’t witness it directly, just being able to relish it in this way made my heart pound like a child.

Finally, the story begins.

The novel I had been reading until I was close to death finally stood at the starting line in front of my eyes.

I began to take my first step towards an ending that I did not know.

So perhaps.

Because of that overwhelming emotion.

Because the light gradually faded, and I returned to the reality that I had become lost.

I casually passed by the girl lying in the corner of the alley.

Ashen gray hair that had turned dull with age.

Similarly dull gray eyes.

Ragged clothes haphazardly covering her and decaying boards scattered on the ground.

Even seeing such a scene, I merely continued to step into the crowd once more.

Perhaps.

I might just be turning a blind eye.

That too is probably a common setting from the novel, and I thought there’s no need to value another extra who would die like that.

In reality, I also didn’t help those in need; there was no obligation to save them in a novel.

Even though the girl’s dull gray eyes were focused on me.

I thought so.

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