Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

In the afternoon, the old wooden door creaked softly as it swung open and closed again.

Slipping off her shoes, her toes clad in black stockings pressed against the floor, leaving faint traces of moisture. She then replaced them with breathable sandals and walked into the house.

“Hestia’s back,” Grandma He called out from the balcony upon hearing sounds in the living room. She was pruning the plants in the flower pots.

“I’m home. The shop needed renovations this afternoon, so we closed early,” Hestia replied.

She opened the refrigerator door, placing the fruit box, drinks, and a few snacks she had been holding inside. After shutting it, she headed to the balcony.

Though it was underground, the residential area above had bright artificial sunlight that gradually dimmed and shut off in the evening.

“I’ll help with the pruning,” Hestia offered as she bent down, watching Grandma He carefully trim the branches of the potted plants.

“No need, no need. Go tend to your own tasks. There’s not much here, and I’m just trimming for fun,” Grandma He said with a smile, shaking her head, motioning for Hestia to sit nearby instead.

In a porcelain flower pot, a small tree was growing. It bore a single, large orange-red fruit with a frosty white sheen on its surface—a modified variety of persimmon.

“Why don’t you rest at home this afternoon? You don’t seem to take much time for yourself,” Grandma He suggested.

“Rest? I suppose I could use a break…” Hestia brushed her long hair over her shoulder, realizing it could use a wash.

“I’ll go take a shower,” she said as she went upstairs to her bedroom, retrieved clean clothes, and headed to the bathroom on the first floor.

Cool water cascaded down, drenching her hair and flowing down her neck, bringing a refreshing sensation perfect for a summer day.

After wetting her hair thoroughly, she poured out some shampoo and sat on a small stool, rubbing it into her hair.

To avoid getting water in her eyes, she closed them slightly, and the sensation at her fingertips became all the more vivid. She felt the smooth strands of hair, the occasional droplets sliding down her neck, the quiet room, faint music and chatter from neighbors, and the sounds of a ball being hit on the street outside.

Though a bit noisy, the ambiance was lively, like the clinking of ice cubes in chilled juice—a sound that naturally put her at ease.

A short while later, Hestia rinsed the foam from her hair, took a quick shower, and changed into clean loungewear before stepping out.

After placing her dirty clothes in the washing machine, she knelt on a mat in the living room, sitting in front of a small fan. The breeze passed over her damp skin and hair, the evaporating moisture spreading a cool and pleasant feeling.

Leaning her arm on the sofa’s armrest, she rested her head against her arm, letting herself relax. Her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted off into a light nap.

About ten minutes later, Grandma He slid the balcony door open and walked in. Seeing Hestia dozing off by the sofa’s edge, she couldn’t help but smile warmly.

“This child…” Grandma He shook her head lightly. She glanced at a thin blanket on the sofa but decided not to cover her.

Let her rest for a bit. Waking her now would only disturb her sleep.

Putting down her tools, Grandma He went to the kitchen to wash her hands, then sat on the sofa, flipping through an old photo album and notebook she had looked at countless times.

The notebook recorded the names of many children—her former students—along with anecdotes and remarks. Their personalities varied widely: some were clever and mischievous, others lively and disobedient, some timid and quiet, others noisy and outgoing, and some shy but eager to play with others.

The thick notebook contained numerous photos, some autographed. There were group pictures of children standing with her under a big tree. Despite today’s convenient digital records, she still cherished the tangible feel of paper and photographs.

The clock on the wall ticked away as the afternoon crept from 2 p.m. to past 3 p.m.

Hestia slowly opened her eyes, feeling refreshed but noticing her legs had gone numb.

Carefully adjusting her position, she stretched out her legs. But as she moved, a sharp tingling sensation coursed through her, causing her to slump over.

“Numb legs?” Grandma He closed her worn notebook and looked at the stirring girl.

“Yeah…” Hestia replied sheepishly. Thankfully, the tingling soon subsided.

Standing up again, she moved her legs and feet briefly before slipping on her sandals and heading upstairs to her room.

She flopped onto her soft bed, rolling around a few times before grabbing her blanket and sitting up, leaning against a pillow.

Resting her chin on the pillow’s soft surface, she sprawled across the bed, occasionally lifting her legs as her fingers swiped through messages and notifications on her personal terminal.

Irene: Want to hang out this weekend, Thilan?

Thilan: Sure.

Irene: Let’s go to the Bellfruit Botanical Garden. It’s not far from Arpeggio City—less than an hour away.

Thilan: Sounds great~

Irene: Awesome, I’ll pick you up then.

——

In the elementary school group chat, classmates occasionally shared their holiday activities. Some traveled with family, some celebrated beating a game, while others posted photos of their pets lounging on bamboo mats or pictures of familiar faces dining and playing sports together.

The middle school group chat was quieter, likely because a few girls, led by Lina, didn’t talk much anymore. Though the boys chatted, their topics mostly revolved around games and leisure, with little about life.

Scrolling through, Hestia paused at the profile picture of a recently met girl.

Annelie Schellenworth—a name and profile that seemed more formal than typical for a 16-year-old.

The profile image depicted two overlapping silver leaves with distinct veins, the simple yet sleek design exuding a crafted elegance.

The Schellenworth family, founders of the car manufacturing company Silverleaf Workshop, owned 65% of its shares, giving them absolute control. Silverleaf Workshop was a perennial presence in the Verdant Veil’s top 100 companies, employing around 500,000 people.

Although not among the Federation’s top-tier corporations, it was still impressive. Hestia had overheard classmates remarking that securing a job at such a company guaranteed a comfortable life.

Since exchanging contact information with Annelie, they had only introduced themselves briefly and hadn’t communicated further. Hestia had almost forgotten about it until she suddenly thought of it today.

“Hello, Annelie,” she messaged, hesitating for a few seconds before typing more.

“Are you also a new student at Edess Academy?” Curious about the Schellenworth heiress, she wanted to know if Annelie was familiar with the school.

“Yes, I’ll be attending Edess Academy this year too, Thilan-sis,” Annelie quickly responded. For days, she had been agonizing over how to get closer to Hestia, and now she finally had the chance.

Despite being a gifted young lady from the Schellenworth family, adept in business, Annelie rarely interacted with peers her age. Even with ample guidance, she still felt unsure about forming relationships.

Always accustomed to others flattering and following her, she never imagined she would one day take the initiative. To avoid overwhelming Hestia, she had restrained herself from messaging earlier, instead studying resources like How to Make Friends, Federation Teen Girl Preferences, Etiquette in Conversations, How to Host a Gathering, I Have Many Friends, and Why Boys Like Girls.

After days of preparation, Annelie finally had the chance to apply what she had learned today.

Watch closely, dear siblings competing with me. Today, I, Annelie, will gain a confidant and befriend the future songstress!

Calming her swirling thoughts, Annelie eagerly typed her response, feeling optimistic about her progress.