Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

Street-side restaurant.

The lively and noisy sounds filled the restaurant, where many customers, fresh off work in the evening, gathered to enjoy affordable yet delicious dinners. They paired their meals with some chilled, low-alcohol drinks, using the refreshing stimulation to soothe their nerves and fatigue.

In a corner, two people sat quietly. One was devouring the food ravenously, while the other rarely touched his utensils, merely watching the other eat.

The young man in black devoured the sizzling hot grilled meat slices, washing them down with large gulps of cold beer. When the table became a mess, he finally put down his chopsticks, rubbed his stomach, and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m full,” he said contentedly, his expression relaxed.

In response, Valk nodded slightly before getting up to pay the bill.

Carrying his tattered coat, Grid and Valk left the restaurant and wandered aimlessly along the street.

The two were silent for a long time until Grid couldn’t hold back and broke the silence.

“Aren’t you curious why I was being hunted by the ‘Three-Pointer Workshop’ tonight?”

“I do want to ask, but I also don’t,” Valk replied, shaking his head.

“If you don’t want to talk, even if I ask, you’d just make up excuses to avoid answering,” Valk added. Growing up together, he was well aware of Grid’s ways.

“Hah, you’ve become smarter and more composed,” Grid said mockingly, his tone then turning slightly serious.

Looking at the brightly lit shops across the street, he paused for a moment before speaking.

“I took a job to spy on the commercial secrets of the ‘Three-Pointer Workshop.'”

“You!” Valk stopped in his tracks, frowning.

“That’s a suicide mission.” Such espionage had always been a taboo for companies. In their defense and protection, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill intruders outright, even if it meant paying a hefty sum afterward.

“I know,” Grid said, leaning against the railing of a bridge, watching the hovercars whiz by below.

“But this is a one-time opportunity,” he added, leaning back and closing his eyes with his head tilted up.

“You wouldn’t understand how much this means to me,” he said, his tone laced with complexity.

“I don’t understand, but I know it will have serious consequences,” Valk replied.

“If your identity is exposed, not only will the opposing company come after you, but because of certain records, the result might not just be imprisonment but execution. Worse, even the orphanage residents could get dragged into this and face danger.”

“The orphanage? What do they have to do with me? I’m an orphan myself—why should I care?” Grid sneered, his expression twisted.

“Did you know, Valk, I’ve always been jealous of you—jealous to the point of madness, hah.” Covering his eyes, he seemed to suppress some emotion as he spoke hysterically.

“I know. Father Berys mentioned it to me. He told me to be cautious of you and to avoid associating with you.”

“Hah, that old man had sharp eyes. I should’ve dealt with him long ago.”

“You can’t harm Father Berys. He saved us, raised us, and gave us an education.”

“Ugh, yes, you’re right. He did all that, but I still loathe him,” Grid said coldly.

“He’s always so proud—proud of helping so many people, smugly basking in the respect he enjoys…”

The Northern 9th District was a place of extreme poverty. It lacked industries, resources, and had cold weather, with only a few mining cities scattered around.

In the Black Zircon City, where they resided, a rare deposit of azurite was discovered over two decades ago. Unlike ordinary azurite, this deposit was formed from a unique magical tide, granting it some extraordinary properties. A chunk the size of a fist could sell for nearly 100,000 Federation credits.

This discovery attracted countless people to the area, trying to steal and extract the precious ore before the authorities sealed it off or fixed security loopholes.

As a result, the local economy experienced a rapid boom, albeit at the cost of rampant lawlessness. Gangs and gray-market firms clashed incessantly, with gunfights erupting daily in the mining zone.

Eventually, the chaos came to an end when the giant corporation “Grey Dust Crystal” purchased the entire mining area. The company’s private security forces cleared the zone completely.

The armed forces of a mega-corporation were not something ordinary gangs could compete with. They had autonomous defense units, organized mecha squads, and elite forces mobilized from various interstellar branches.

Some might question whether such heavily armed corporations violated federation law or exceeded regulatory limits. But a glance at history would reveal the absurdity of this concern.

It wasn’t the federation government that gave rise to mega-corporations but rather the mega-corporations that, through mutual compromise and cooperation, formed the Rose Federation.

In that barren era, each of these tech-singularity-holding corporations was akin to a small nation. They had their own fleets, ships, and administrative systems, traveling between desolate and impoverished planets, selling their unique products with little competition.

However, such development eventually reached its limits. The size of a market ultimately determined the growth of a corporation. No matter how good your product was, if only 100 people could afford it, you could only make money from those 100.

Why is it that the strongest and most advanced tech companies emerge only in the largest nations after numerous technological revolutions? Because only the largest nations have the biggest markets, sufficient profits, and resources to support the ever-increasing costs of technological research and development.

Barren and scattered planets cannot provide a market large enough—unless a stable, expansive nation is established. But such a venture is not something companies would undertake.

As profit-driven organizations, or the embodiment of capital itself, they instinctively pursue profit and gains, as this is the only way to sustain their organizational structure. Establishing a nation would require taking responsibility for complex matters: constructing order, appeasing the populace, providing education, building infrastructure, and more. These undertakings demand enormous investment and are fraught with risk.

Transitioning from managing a company to governing a nation isn’t just a matter of scaling up the population—it comes with countless challenges. And the payoff? The company merely wanted to sell a 1 unit cost product, but now you’re asking it to invest 1,000 unit cost upfront in comprehensive initial development.

Such a venture would clearly be unprofitable, so companies would never go down this path.

Some might argue that companies could diversify into other products, but it’s not that simple. Giant corporations excel at producing what they specialize in, where costs might be just 10,000 unit cost while profits soar to 1,000,000 unit cost—a near hundredfold return. Diversifying into other products would require starting from scratch, researching, experimenting, and incurring losses along the way. Each new product line also introduces competitors in those fields, often yielding limited profits. This effort would pale in comparison to the profitability of their specialty products. Expanding into multiple areas would also lead to bloated organizations, escalating internal inefficiencies, and even a loss of innovative edge in their core areas. Ultimately, they could be overtaken by emerging challengers.

Despite knowing that markets are limited, these giant corporations had no better solution until the advent of Golden Flame Rose, which brought about a turning point.

Due to such historical reasons, while the Rose Federation is immensely powerful, this strength is not limited to the federation government but extends to the corporations that helped establish it. These corporations maintain their own armed forces and even fleets.

However, during the era of the second-generation Color-Grade Songstress, Blue Cobalt Tear, amidst a period of internal conflict, the Federation government expanded its military aggressively, curbing and reducing corporate privileges within the Federation. Later, during the stringent internal purge led by Blue Cobalt Tear, numerous congressmen who had accepted corporate bribes were imprisoned or executed. This significantly diminished corporate political influence within the Federation. A new law was passed, prohibiting corporations from maintaining fleets and restricting them to limited ground defense forces.

Returning to the once-thriving Black Zircon City, the discovery of cerulean stones had drawn a flood of people, and the reestablishment of order and stability drove many opportunists away, leaving behind chaos. Among the remnants were abandoned orphans like Valk and Grid.

Their childhood was filled with hardship until an idealistic priest arrived in the Northern 9th District, establishing an orphanage and church to take in these children.

“Father Berys didn’t treat everyone equally. He clearly preferred obedient and well-behaved children. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of them,” Grid said self-mockingly.

“Although he took me in, he never liked me. It was like raising a stray dog—just feeding me scraps to keep me alive.”

“But with you, he showed great patience. He taught you knowledge, advocated for you, and eventually secured you a legal citizen record within the Federation.”

“So, tell me, you who have been blessed by heaven, are you here to convince me to live a lowly, dog-like existence?” Grid retorted.

“Even so, you shouldn’t…” Valk tried to reason but ultimately stopped. He knew this was a road without resolution.

Grid lacked a legitimate identity. He couldn’t leave the impoverished and confined Northern 9th District slums. Beyond grueling, menial labor, he had few options there.

The world is unfair—that’s the reality for many.

“I started breaking free from Father Berys’ leash, venturing into the murky gray areas to seize opportunities. Though I almost died in a winter night, I managed to scrape together some money and forge a basic identity record to leave the Northern 9th District,” Grid recounted slowly, standing against the night wind.

“Father Berys probably despises me because I rebelled against him and caused him trouble. If I make a serious mistake, he, as my former guardian, could also face consequences.”

“Father Berys is not as petty as you think. He only expressed regret for not paying more attention to you back then,” Valk replied.

“Hah, of course, he’d show his gentle side to you. You’ve fulfilled his dream of being a respected, fatherly figure.”

“He gains psychological satisfaction. The more successful you are, the more others praise him, and the deeper he immerses himself in that image.”

“You think he’s noble? In reality, he used us children to fill his own void of self-esteem and emotional emptiness.”

“I’ve looked into his past. Father Berys grew up in affluent Southern 2nd District, but he was an unremarkable failure there. The girl he pursued fell for someone else, his inherited family business went bankrupt due to mismanagement, and by his thirties, he was still a nobody. Despair led him to the Northern District.”

“Even if his motives weren’t pure, I still respect Father Berys. At least because of him, we survived,” Valke said, shaking his head.

“That’s you—not me!” Grid snarled, his eyes filled with rage.

“I’ll never forget his condescending gaze—the disdain, the contempt, as if he were looking at trash.”

“I want revenge. I will take revenge. I’ll achieve greatness and return to humiliate him, shattering his reputation and forcing him to confess his years of hypocrisy and revolting performance in front of everyone.”

“You shouldn’t waste your energy on this. If you found honest work and lived a stable life…” Valk tried again.

“I told you—that’s for you, not me. You’ve never experienced the scorn and humiliation, the torment of being belittled and pitied.”

After the heated exchange, silence fell between them. They gazed at the bustling world beneath the bridge, aware that neither could change the other’s mind. They were no longer the children they once were.

“I’m leaving,” Grid said, pulling on his coat and heading toward the far end of the bridge.

“I’ll remember tonight’s kindness. If I ever get the chance, I’ll repay you.”

“Pray for me, Valk—pray that I live long enough to repay that kindness,” he said with a bitter laugh, laced with self-mockery.

Soon, the dark-clad youth vanished into the street’s end, leaving Valk staring at the dazzling cityscape across the bridge.

Countless massive screens displayed vibrant images and figures. Each sign exuded the scent of wealth—so prosperous yet so distorted, compelling one to sigh in silence.

The wheels of history crush all in their path. Simplicity is replaced with new meanings. As humanity gains more knowledge and theories, they face increasingly overwhelming choices and confusion.

In ancient times, simply surviving was considered a great blessing. But in this era, merely surviving might also be a form of torment.

Dignity, freedom—once overlooked and numbingly ignored—now seep into every individual’s heart.

They bring a sense of progress and fulfillment, but when unmet, they inflict profound pain. There’s no retreat to an idyllic pastoral age, no burying one’s head in the sand to ignore the world.

All one can do is endure the fierce currents of the times, striving in relentless competition to grasp the increasingly expensive respect and decency.