[Time]: Day 30 of Enrollment, 05:00 PM[Location]: Milan'thir · Ludwig Branch Community · Townhouse No. 107
The afternoon sun had mellowed into a warm golden haze through the enchanted windows, and the Egg Explosion had decayed into a domestic hum.
Margaret sat in her armchair, knitting needles clicking as she wove a tiny hat out of spider-silk.
She glanced at the plush velvet sofa, where a lump of crimson and silver had remained motionless for the better part of the afternoon.
"Hattie," Margaret asked softly, breaking the silence. "You haven't moved an inch in four hours. Your arm must be numb. Are you ever going to put her down?"
Hathaway didn't open her eyes. She was buried deep in the cushions, her chin resting on the top of a small, silver-fuzzed head.
"No," Hathaway whispered solemnly. "I am bonding."
In her arms lay Rory.
The newly hatched Siren Witch had finally fallen asleep after an intense session of gnawing on a Grade-4 Mana Crystal.
Rory ran cool. Not the freezing air of an ice block: a steady, structural coolness, like the far side of the pillow on a hot summer night, and it soaked through the coat straight into Hathaway's ribs.
Asleep, Rory snuggled deeper into Hathaway’s neck, cool arms wrapping around her sister, sticking like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.
"She is not just a baby, Mother," Hathaway murmured, rubbing her cheek against the cool silver fuzz. "She is a portable, intelligent air conditioner. This is the peak of functional fashion. I'm never letting go."
Margaret giggled. "Well, at least someone is comfortable."
Just then, the kitchen door swung open.
Anna walked in, wiping her hands on a towel. She checked the grandfather clock on the wall.
05:05 PM.
She looked at the cozy, lazy tableau on the sofa and raised an eyebrow.
"Hattie," Anna said, her tone shifting from motherly to playful. "Why are you still here?"
Hathaway blinked, finally opening one eye. "Excuse me? I live here."
"You are 18," Anna pointed a manicured finger at her daughter. "You just scored Top 0.1% in the A1 Exam. You are young, you are rich (relatively), and you are currently wearing a very expensive coat inside the house."
"Do you really plan to spend your victory night watching two old women knit and a baby sleep?"
"It's safe," Hathaway defended weakly, nuzzling Rory to absorb more coolness. "And it's comfortable."
"It's boring!" Anna declared, snatching the floating book from the air. "You are a Ludwig! We celebrate victories with noise, not naps!"
She leaned over the sofa, her eyes narrowing playfully:
"Besides... you have someone waiting for you, don't you? That Wellington girl? You mentioned she promised to open a bottle of 1882 Star-Dust if you passed."
Anna whistled low.
"Honey, nobody opens an 1882 vintage just to drink it alone. That is a social invitation. A very expensive one."
Margaret put down her knitting, her expression twisting as if she had just swallowed a lemon. She looked at Anna, then at Hathaway.
"Fine," Margaret huffed, stabbing her knitting needles into the ball of wool with unnecessary force. "Anna is right. You need to get out." She jabbed one needle at the ceiling. "At least you are going to a Bar. A public place with actual Lighting."
"It’s better than rotting in that... Crypt she calls a dorm room," Margaret muttered, picking up a baby sock. "Go. Drink her expensive wine. But if she tries to dim the lights, you come straight home."
Hathaway looked at the sleeping baby, then at her mag-phone on the coffee table.
They are right.I worked like a dog for 30 days. I memorized 2000 years of history. I calculated spell trajectories until my brain smoked. I deserve a drink. A real drink.
She shifted Rory without waking her, then checked the message that had come in an hour ago.
[From: Victoria][Time: 04:00 PM][Message 1:] Meet me at 06:00 PM. Commercial Ring. The Hollow Mountain.[Message 2:] Establishment: "The Witch's House". I have a reserved booth.[Message 3:] Bring your deck. Specifically, bring "Her".
Hathaway stared at the last message.
"Her".
She touched her inner chest pocket. Through the fabric, she could feel the hard, cool edge of the card she always carried with her.
[The Witch of Eternal Slumber · Ovelia] (Starlight Foil).
Hathaway grinned. "She wants a rematch against destiny."
"Okay," Hathaway stood up. She pried Rory's cool fingers off her coat, absorbing one grunt of protest at the loss of the heater, and handed her to Margaret.
"I'm going out."
"That's my girl!" Anna cheered. "Go! Spend money! Flirt! Play cards! Don't come back until you've had fun!"
Hathaway walked to her room, opened the magical safe, and pulled out the rest of the army: a heavy, black obsidian box.
Inside lay the rest of the [High Council] deck.
A deck composed of nothing but Legendary Cards, worth roughly a small country, inherited from the original Hathaway: a hardcore whale who cared more about shiny textures than mana curves.
"I'm heading to The Witch's House," Hathaway announced, pocketing the heavy box.
"Have fun!" Margaret called out, rocking the baby."Don't lose your shirt at the card table!" Anna yelled after her.
[Time]: 05:55 PM[Location]: Milan'thir · The Commercial Ring · The Hollow Mountain
Hathaway mounted the [Scarlet-Valkyrie] and took off into the twilight.
The Hollow Mountain owned the skyline long before she reached it: a jagged, uncarved granite peak hanging in the azure sky, raw prehistoric nature parked in the middle of a magical metropolis like a boulder somebody had forgotten to despawn. Its entrance was a colossal cave mouth curtained by a translucent Wind Barrier that rippled like water. Hathaway accelerated and punched through it.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Inside, the world stood up on end.
The whole mountain had been hollowed into a Cylindrical Void running kilometers up and kilometers down, ring-shaped commercial platforms stacked along the inner walls, every ring burning with neon blue runes, red lanterns, and soft alchemical green.
The central airspace was a Chaotic Broom Highway. Thousands of Witches dove, climbed, and circled in the void, and it all arrived at once: whistling brooms, the chime of magical bells, and laughter from riders who had clearly never read a safety notice.
Hathaway merged into traffic and took a deep breath. The smell was map enough.
The air circulating in the Hollow Mountain was a mixture of scents from all over the Starry Sea, a breath of the civilization itself:
A gust of wind hit her face, carrying the heavy, metallic steam and oil of Favania.A second later, it was replaced by the intoxicating, sweet floral fragrance of Casendiara.And underneath it all, the faint, salty tang of Marigold Bay's ocean breeze.
She followed the smell of expensive alcohol down to the Market Ring, through a forest of neon signs, until she spotted it.
"The Witch's House."
It stood out by being quiet.
A row of deep brown "Wine Bamboo" grew at the entrance, emitting the scent of malt and hops. As the wind blew, Hathaway could hear the faint slosh-slosh of liquid moving inside the hollow segments of the bamboo.
A small, elegant wooden bridge crossed a miniature stream, leading to the entrance. It looked like a secluded pavilion in a bamboo forest, a touch of Zen amidst the neon cyberpunk chaos.
Hathaway landed softly on the bridge, dismounting her broom. She checked the time.
Two minutes early. Perfect.
[Location]: "The Witch's House" (Interior)
Hathaway pushed open the wooden door, and a wave of rich wine aroma cut with expensive perfume washed over her.
It was a Library with a liquor license.
The interior was a massive cylindrical space bathed in warm amber light, and the floor plan had been divided by someone with a ruler: a quarter of it polished mahogany bar, stocked with bottles that glowed like gems; half of it curved floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and quiet reading tables under floating warm-light orbs; the last quarter a raised stage.
Two tall, stunningly beautiful Witches were performing, one at a grand piano, the other standing with a violin, working through a complex, rapid-fire sonata. The music was technically immaculate, every note placed to the microsecond.
Hathaway squinted and caught the faint, transparent shimmer around their hands: [Mage Hand], and not simple telekinesis either, but Scripted Casting. Somewhere backstage these two had knocked back a "Skill Potion" carrying a pre-programmed musical macro, a model holding the fingering, the pressure, and the timing data for the entire song.
It's automated, Hathaway thought, holding back a twitch of her eye. There is absolutely no soul in that performance. It's just a magical MIDI player.
But then, the Violinist Witch tossed her hair back and winked at the audience while her [Mage Hand] executed a perfect vibrato.
The patrons, mostly high-class Witches sipping cocktails, stopped whispering and applauded.
Hathaway sighed and started clapping too.
Fine. Who cares about the soul of music when you have pretty big sisters putting on a show?
"You're staring at the pianist's legs, Ludwig."
A cool voice drifted from a secluded booth near the bookshelves. Hathaway turned.
Victoria sat there, blending into the library aesthetic like she had been shelved. She wore a Midnight Blue evening gown that looked like it was woven from the night sky, reading a book titled The Philosophy of Silence.
"I was analyzing the spell structure," Hathaway corrected, walking over. "It's a very efficient use of [Mage Hand]. Soulless, but efficient."
"It keeps the ambience," Victoria closed her book. "Sit."
Hathaway sat down. The booth was private, shielded by a sound-dampening ward.
"I assume you didn't bring your own wine?" Hathaway asked, looking at the empty table.
"I am a VIP member," Victoria tapped the table. "I have a cellar here."
Victoria raised her hand, signaling into the air.
Space distorted gently next to their table, and a woman stepped out of the ripple.
Hathaway blinked at what the house apparently considered waitstaff.
She wore a sharp, tailored black vest over a white silk shirt, gold cufflinks catching the light. Her hair was styled in a loose, elegant bun. She held a silver tray, but her posture was relaxed, confident, even slightly lazy.
What hit Hathaway was the Presence: mana rolling off the woman like a volcano holding its breath, heavy, dense, and refined.
High Witch, Hathaway thought. At least.
A Witch of this caliber could command a legion on the battlefield. Yet here she was, holding a tray.
"Victoria," the High Witch smiled, her voice warm and teasing, like a big sister greeting a favorite sibling. "Back so soon? Did you miss me, or did you miss the wine?"
"Both, Elise," Victoria replied, a rare, relaxed smile appearing on her face. "But mostly the wine. The 1882 Reserve, please."
"Straight to the heavy stuff? Celebrating?" Elise leaned against the booth, ignoring the usual servant protocols. She glanced at Hathaway with amused, golden eyes. "And who is this silver-haired cutie? A new girlfriend? Or the student you've been complaining about for a month?"
"This is Hathaway von Ludwig," Victoria introduced. "My student. And today, the Top Scorer of the A1."
"Ooh. A Genius," Elise's eyes lit up. She gave Hathaway a knowing smile. "Nice coat, Miss. Fits the Ludwig vibe perfectly. Flashy."
Heat climbed Hathaway's neck. "Thank you."
"For the starter," Victoria interrupted the flirting. "Two glasses of 'Deep Sea Ice Moon Sugar'."
"Excellent choice to wake up the nerves," Elise nodded. "I'll have the bartender prioritize it. Anything for our favorite Wellington."
She dissolved into mist instead of walking, reappearing behind the bar across the room in a blink.
Hathaway stared at the vacated air. "Victoria," she whispered. "She... she's a High Witch. Why is she serving drinks?"
"Because this is 'The Witch's House'," Victoria explained calmly, leaning back. "Do you know who owns this establishment?"
Hathaway shook her head.
"Heidi Lucent. The 10th Seat." Victoria pronounced all four syllables like they had been assigned to her personally. "This place is not just a bar. It is a Stage. It is a Market. And it is a School."
Victoria tapped a hidden menu on the table, projecting a list of "Staff Exchangeable Rewards."
[Point Exchange System]
300 Points: Rare Alchemical Herbs (Casendiara Imports).
10,000 Points: Letter of Recommendation from the Lucent Family.
514,500 Points: [Legendary Spell: Greater Time Stop (Heidi's Modified Ver.)] & Research Manual.
Time Stop?! Hathaway's jaw came loose from its hinge. You can earn a Legendary Spell by waiting tables?
"Now you understand," Victoria smirked. "The Witches working here are not servants. They are ambitious elites. They come here to earn points, yes. But more importantly, they come here to build connections."
"Elise is a master of Evocation. She works here to find investors for her independent research lab. Being a 'Hostess' here gives her access to the wealthiest clans in the Inner Sea. The Wellingtons, for instance."
Victoria picked up a napkin and took her time with it. "Did you know? Even Lin Zhaojun started here."
Hathaway froze. "Lin?"
"Wait," Hathaway whispered, pointing at the ceiling. "This is Heidi's place. Lin and Heidi are... well, you know."
They are Mortal Enemies.Lin working for Heidi? That’s like a mouse working for a cat.
"They are enemies now," Victoria said, gracefully swirling her empty glass. "But before the 'Millennium Sovereign' debuted? Lin was in her mid-twenties. A civilian genius with staggering talent, but desperately broke."
"Broke?" Hathaway raised an eyebrow.
"Growing Witches burn money," Victoria explained. "She needed astronomical capital to fund that seamless combat system of hers. So, she came here. And she became the... 'Prince of the Bar'."
"She had that face: handsome, sharp, effortless. She wore tight, tailored vests, mixed potions with artistic precision, and used that dangerous smile to build the most terrifying network in the White City."
Victoria smiled into her empty glass.
"Hathaway, she made every wealthy patron feel like the only girl in the room. They did not just buy vintage wines. They became her Angel Investors. They funded her bespoke gear, her alchemical resources, and the most expensive commodity in a society of scholars: restricted knowledge."
"But in this city," Victoria leaned slightly forward, her smile turning sharp, "massive investments come with expectations of exclusivity. Power players do not like sharing their favorite assets."
"By the time Lin was ready to debut, her 'sponsors' had grown aggressively possessive. Several elite Arch-Witches, and a couple of heavyweight club owners besides, casually offered to 'consolidate' her debts. They wanted to buy out her other creditors and monopolize her portfolio."
Victoria murmured, "A hostile takeover, disguised as absolute pampering."
Hathaway covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook.
Sweet Mother of Mana.It all makes sense.
She thought of Lin's effortless swagger. The way she mentally dismantled opponents.She didn't learn that in an academy. She learned her 'Heartbreaker' psychological warfare right here!
"She cleaned out the Commercial District," Victoria concluded, raising her glass in a mock toast. "Then she stepped into the arena, crushed her former boss, took the championship prize, and bought her own freedom."
Hathaway nodded, the irony going down better than the wine would.
The undisputed G.O.A.T. didn't just debut for glory. The 'Millennium Sovereign' started her career as a Gold-Digging Prince Charming, sprinting away from a dozen gilded leashes.
That is so... incredibly Lin.
"Enough gossip," Victoria said, as a ripple in space announced Elise's return. "Our drinks are here."
Elise stepped out of the mist and set two crystal glasses on the table, trailing a cloud of cold steam.
Victoria lifted her chin at the drinks. "Drink up, Ludwig. You will need the liquid courage for what comes next."
She pointed a gloved finger at the black obsidian box Hathaway had placed on the table.
"Because after we drink... I want to see if you have the guts to play Her."