Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

Beep—beep—beep—

When Hestia opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was a white ceiling. A faint beeping sound from a machine reached her ears. She tried to move her body but was stopped immediately by a sharp ache coursing through her entire frame. She froze, and soon after, an electronic AI voice came from nearby.

[The patient is awake. Notifying the station.]

Is this a hospital? A familiar scent of disinfectant tickled her nose. Hestia glanced around and noticed a reclining chair beside her bed. A sturdy young man lay there, asleep, with a blanket covering him and a muscular arm exposed.

She recognized him. His name was He Cheng, a neighbor from her residential area.

Before long, the door to the ward opened, and a nurse in a light blue uniform walked in, pushing a small cart filled with instruments.

“You’re awake,” the nurse said as she skillfully checked the various indicators on the machines beside the bed.

“You’re really lucky. When I saw you covered in blood being rushed in, I didn’t think you’d make it,” she continued. “Fortunately, there were no fatal injuries. The doctor said you were lucky to avoid any critical areas.”

The nurse’s calm demeanor helped to soothe Hestia’s nerves. She carefully helped her sit up and asked if she felt any discomfort.

“Discomfort…” Hestia looked at her arms and gently touched her neck.

Her neck seemed unharmed, but her right arm was tightly bandaged and immobilized. Her left arm ached but was still usable.

After listening to Hestia’s description, the nurse nodded. “That matches what the doctor said. That’s good news. The real worry was if you had suffered a concussion or mental instability from the trauma.”

“You’re very brave. I heard the story—you didn’t abandon anyone and even managed to eliminate the runaway. Impressive,” she said warmly, wrapping her arms around Hestia and gently stroking her hair.

“Mm…” Hestia didn’t know how to respond. Yet, a faint warmth grew in her heart.

It had been a long time since someone had held her like this.

After a while, the nurse let go and smiled.

“Little Thilan isn’t in serious condition, but you’ll need some tests. Now, give me your hand—I’ll need a bit of blood.”

Oof. Not quite an angel, huh? The girl hesitated, raising her left hand slowly, looking away to avoid seeing the needle.

“All done. I’ll need you to perform a few other checks now. Just activate your transcendent core and release a little energy.”

“Okay.” Hestia followed the instructions, activating her core and channeling a small amount of magic.

“Everything looks good—no issues,” the nurse concluded, packing up her instruments.

“I’ll file my report. You’ll need to stay in the hospital for observation for a couple of days. In the meantime, you can drink some water and eat something.”

She glanced at the young man still snoozing on the chair and gave him a sharp slap.

“Wake up! If you keep sleeping, Granny He will give you an earful.”

Unlike the gentle tone she used with Hestia, her attitude toward him was far rougher.

“Huh? Who’s scolding me? Who dares to scold me? I’m…”

Startled, He Cheng sat up, rubbing his head. When he saw Hestia awake, his face lit up with joy.

“Ah, Thilan, you’re awake! It’s me, your neighbor, Brother He! You remember, right? I’m the guy who handles deliveries in our complex…”

“I remember,” Hestia replied with a nod, making He Cheng even more excited.

He began recounting what had happened after she passed out—how the children ran out of the tunnel to call for help, how the neighbors rushed her to the hospital, and how the local security authorities investigated and repaired the area afterward.

“I bet they’ll just install a few more cameras and fix the streetlights,” He Cheng said, shrugging.

“What about the kids? Are they okay?” Hestia asked.

“They’re fine—just a few scrapes. Nothing serious. But you scared everyone half to death,” He Cheng said solemnly.

“I can’t tell you how horrifying it was to see you lying there, covered in blood. The walls and floor were scratched up everywhere, and you looked like a torn-up doll, with bones sticking out… You know, I never realized how pretty you were before. Maybe you just used to be too young—”

“Brother He, could you stop talking about it?” Hestia interrupted, her voice trembling with the lingering terror of the memory.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. You need to rest. What do you feel like eating? I’ll get it for you.”

“Something simple is fine.”

“What’s ‘simple’? You’ve just cheated death—this calls for a feast! Don’t worry about the cost; your big brother He has you covered!”

“Well then, a T5-grade set meal from ‘Bamboo Fragrance Pavilion,’ lightly seasoned, please.”

“Got it. I’ll grab it right away. Drink some water in the meantime.” With that, He Cheng left the room.

As Hestia waited, she sipped some water and leaned against the headboard, reflecting on how she had survived.

She vaguely remembered using the purification formula to channel magic and kill the enemy. After that, her consciousness had faded. In the hazy moments before losing all awareness, she recalled a strange sensation—as if someone were singing or whispering in her ear.

Her injuries had drained her warmth, and blood in her throat left her unable to cough. Yet, somehow, her body had begun repairing itself, like when she demonstrated her abilities during the entrance evaluation.

Touching her neck cautiously, she felt smooth skin. She checked her body with her extraordinary abilities. Aside from a shadow in her lungs and her right arm still in recovery, her organs seemed intact.

She decided to leave her advanced healing for after her discharge. It would be too suspicious otherwise.

But as she examined herself, she noticed something unusual.

Her hair color had changed.

She gathered a lock from the back of her head. The gray strands she had known were now jet-black and silky.

What… is this?

Feeling slightly panicked, she found a mirror in the room.

Her reflection startled her.

The black hair framed her face elegantly, lending her a quiet yet striking beauty. Her once-dark eyes had turned pale blue, like a rare orchid blooming in a sea of darkness. Though her features hadn’t changed, her aura had—a dreamlike charm that was impossible to ignore.

Her mind flashed back to a memory of her mother.

“You know, Hestia, there’s a flower in ancient elven lore. It grows unnoticed among weeds, indistinguishable from the grass. While other flowers bloom in spring, it remains hidden. Only in the autumn and winter, when everything else has withered, does it bloom—a single radiant blue blossom in the cold.”

Her mother’s voice lingered in her thoughts.

“Even if one day I’m no longer here, you’ll grow strong and find your season to bloom. Be brave, Hestia. Live on.”

The flower’s name in elven lore was Thilan—the same as Hestia’s surname.