Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

In a forest classroom, with wooden floors, wooden roofs, and wooden desks and chairs, the snow piled high on tree leaves outside, yet the room remained warm within.

The soft prelude of an ocarina floated through the air, echoing quietly in the tranquil classroom, carrying listeners to a distant world.

Then, cheerful singing and drumbeats joined in. First, a single voice, then two, their melodies layering harmoniously, blending with subtle rhythms. Gradually, more voices joined, accompanied by the delicate jingling of bells and the resonant tones of bagpipes. Among the ensemble, playful elvish hums wove through the harmony, enriching the piece with vibrant and intricate textures.

The students sat or stood around the classroom, watching five girls at the center. Some sang with their eyes closed, hands raised; others pressed their hands to their hearts, humming earnestly. One girl played the bagpipes, her fingers lifting and lowering to produce a graceful, lilting melody.

The song exuded an air of lively escapism, like dancing and playing with fairies in a secluded forest. Its bright, carefree notes drew everyone into a spellbound state. Only after the music faded did applause erupt, heartfelt and warm, filling the room with gratitude for the performance.

“Thank you all for listening,” said the brown-haired girl leading the group. She and her companions bowed in unison, receiving another round of enthusiastic applause.

“I can’t quite describe it, but that performance was unforgettable.”

“Though it didn’t have dazzling special effects, the clarity and joy in the music’s atmosphere were so rare.”

The audience clapped joyfully, their attention fixed on the five performers.

“Thank you…” The girls repeatedly expressed their gratitude, smiling as their peers surrounded them with praise.

At everyone’s suggestion, the group stood again at the classroom’s center, this time for a commemorative photo. The five girls were Renata, Bai Ling, Agnes, Hestia, and Bessimo, standing from left to right. Renata sang lead vocals, Bai Ling played the drums and bells, Agnes handled percussion, Hestia performed on the ocarina and violin, and Bessimo played the bagpipes.

Three months after joining Swallow Garden Academy, the group was formed at Agnes’s initiative. After a week of practice, they had invited their classmates to witness this experimental, impromptu performance.

Initially, both performers and audience approached the event casually, treating it as a playful experiment. Yet the unexpectedly delightful results surprised everyone involved.

“So much fun~ (^▽^),” some students exclaimed, taking photos and even asking the girls for autographs.

After the performance, one student volunteered to edit the recorded footage, and the group headed out to play in the snow and hike. They chased each other back and forth, their heads and faces dusted with snow, looking comically disheveled. Laughter and chatter echoed endlessly until the sky dimmed, and they began the journey home.

It was an ordinary day without surprises, yet, years later, one of them might stand by a window at sunset, gazing at tree shadows, and realize it had been the happiest, most carefree day in their memory.

When the gathering ended, Hestia stood under a streetlamp in the snowy path, waving goodbye to familiar classmates. She then walked toward the distant hill with Mel by her side.

The road was eerily quiet, as if the snow had absorbed all sound. Only the crunching of footsteps broke the stillness.

After some time, Mel slowed her pace, finally speaking softly, “Can we take a break?”

“Ah, of course.” Hestia stopped, realizing she’d been lost in thought and had overlooked Mel’s condition.

The two paused by the roadside. From Mel’s chest came a soft “meow” as a gray kitten poked its head out, its large eyes curious about the world outside.

“Little Gray~” Mel affectionately stroked the kitten’s head, her flushed cheeks betraying her embarrassment. Bundled in a thick, fluffy down jacket, she looked utterly snug.

“Let’s sit over there.” Hestia pointed to a nearby pavilion, and the two walked over.

Sweeping the snow off a bench, they sat and gazed at the snow-covered scenery and quiet streets under the streetlights. The stillness felt rare and precious.

“This is my first time experiencing winter on the surface,” Hestia said, extending her hand to catch a falling snowflake.

“Where did you live before?” Mel tilted her head in curiosity.

“In an underground city. There are many in Northern 7th District, most built during the war era.”

“Underground must be warm, right? When I was little, I dreamed of being a big hamster, storing piles of nuts and snacks in a burrow, spending winter just eating and sleeping. That kind of life sounds so happy~” Mel chuckled, her tone like that of an innocent child. At 16, she still carried a youthful charm.

“Underground is indeed warm—no need to worry about the cold.” Hestia thought for a moment but refrained from shattering Mel’s idyllic image.

“If there were such a secluded place, it would certainly be blissful,” she agreed with a faint nod.

“See? I knew you’d agree with me!” Mel beamed, delighted.

“But my brother always teased me about it, saying all I cared about was eating and sleeping. Hmph.” She pouted, stroking the gray kitten absentmindedly, still holding onto childhood memories.

Hestia chuckled and asked, “What about your brother now?”

“Oh, he went to military school. He wants to be a great fighter pilot,” Mel said with pride.

“Did your family support him?”

“Mom was against it, worried about his safety, but Dad supported him. He even convinced Mom in the end.”

“‘Do what you want and become a real man,’ Dad said.”

“Meow~” While Mel spoke, the gray kitten leaped from her lap.

“Little Gray, it’s cold outside. Don’t run off~” Mel scooped up the kitten and placed it back on her knees, stroking it gently.

“What an open-minded father,” Hestia mused, leaning against the bench. She looked up at the snow-filled night sky, her thoughts drifting to her family.

But she quickly shook her head, interrupting the memory.

Enough. I promised myself I wouldn’t dwell on the past.

After resting for a while, Hestia stood, brushing snow off her coat, and turned to Mel.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m good.” Mel picked up the gray kitten and followed Hestia back onto the snowy path.

Ahead, the road led toward three tall towers standing on a hill, their glowing lights making them resemble small castles from a fairy tale.

Someday, they would bid farewell to childhood fairy tales.

Someday, they would meet the dreams in their hearts.