[Time]: Day 30 of Enrollment, 11:45 PM[Location]: Milan'thir · "The Witch's House"
The rest of the night dissolved into a blur of neon lights, holographic explosions, and the rhythmic clinking of ice against crystal.
The [High Council] deck won its share of the night.
Her "Pool Poisoning Strategy" turned out to be a toxic masterpiece, in the sense that the toxin was reliably in the room and only sometimes in the right witch. Some nights the math bit back: she choked on her own unplayable bricks and got stomped by an aggro deck before turn six, which she chose to log as a balance issue.
But other times?
Other times, she successfully dragged the game into a miserable, muddy stalemate. Her opponents would desperately reach into the Shared Void for a cheap combo piece, only to pull out a 10-Cost Titan they couldn't afford. They would stare in despair at their bricked hands, and then, at Round 10, the stars aligned. Hathaway would slam down [The 3rd Seat · Ash] or [The Scarlet Fox of Casendiara · Josephine], and the sheer, absurd stat difference would crush the casual decks of the bar patrons like a hydraulic press crushing a soda can.
She won some. She lost some.But mostly, she drank. A lot.
The [Deep Sea Ice Moon Sugar], that deceptive sweet blue syrup, was long gone.The [1882 Star-Dust Wine], the bottle Victoria had opened with a casual flick of her finger, had evaporated into their glasses.
And now, sitting in the center of the table like a raid boss, was the finale.
[The Dragon Egg Cocktail]
It was a spectacle. A massive, hollowed-out Prime Dragon Egg served as the bowl. The shell was covered in real, warm ruby scales. Inside, a glowing green liquid, a mix of Absinthe, Fog-Mint and Gold Rum, bubbled ominously.
Hathaway dipped her ladle into the egg, filling her cup for the fourth time.
Her face was flushed a deep, healthy crimson. Her eyes were bright, unfocused, and swimming with raw mana.
"I am not drunk," Hathaway announced to the air, waving her ladle at a table of Witches nearby. "I am just... highly mana-conductive right now. My brain is overclocked."
Across the table, Victoria sat in perfect stillness.
She was sipping her drink with an elegance that made the cheap bar glass look like cut crystal, sober as a ledger, though her pale cheeks had a faint tint of rose, like a drop of blood falling onto snow.
"Of course," Victoria replied, her voice cool and steady. "You are merely... experiencing high latency."
"Exactly!" Hathaway slammed her cup down, splashing a bit of green glowing liquid. "Lag! It's just lag! My genius is faster than my tongue!"
Victoria propped her cheek against her pale knuckles and let it stand, her silhouette softening in the dim light.
Her azure eyes were unfocused and misty, like the surface of a deep frozen lake. Because of her severe myopia, she wasn't looking at Hathaway. She was looking through her, drifting along with the jazz melody playing in the background.
A faint arc of amusement sat at the corner of her lips, a hairline crack in the ice.
Hathaway stared at that smile, and in the fog her thinking came out in short, load-bearing pieces.
She is pretty.Scary. But pretty.
The automated piano shifted to a slow, jazzy rendition of an old Witch ballad. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, alcohol, and the ozone smell of magic.
Snippets of gossip floated from nearby tables, drifting into Hathaway's ears:
"Did you hear? The Lucas Family Matriarch made a move on the 5th Seat again...""To Lady Irene? What was it this time?""A tea set. Rumor says it was valued at Two Giant Sky Islands at the last auction.""...That is not a gift. That is a marriage proposal. Did Lady Irene accept?""She accepted it. And then she sent back a return gift of the exact same value.""Ouch. The 'Equivalence Rejection'. Lady Irene is truly uncatchable."
Equivalence, Hathaway thought, the word echoing in her foggy brain.Witches don't owe each other.Everything has a price.
She looked at Victoria again.
Victoria sat there, surrounded by the noise, yet isolated in her own quiet world. She was the Third Miss of the Wellington family. She had everything. Money, power, lineage.
She looks lonely, Hathaway thought. But also very expensive.
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Wait. Expensive.
A thought drilled up through the alcohol, sharp enough to sober her.
I have been eating her food for a month.She brings me breakfast. She brews me tea.She tutored me for 30 days straight, Top 0.1% grade tutoring, and I have paid exactly zero Solars in fees.
And tonight, she opened an 1882 vintage Star-Dust.
Hathaway sat up so fast the bench squeaked.
I am a Ludwig!I am not a freeloader! I am not a Moocher!If I don't pay for something right now, I will lose my dignity as a gentlewoman!
"Elise!" Hathaway shouted, raising her hand with the authority of a general commanding a legion.
Space rippled, and the High Witch was there, holding a tray.
"Ready to surrender, Miss Ludwig? You look like you're one blink away from a month of dreamless sleep."
"Check, please!" Hathaway declared, slapping her personal card on the table.
Victoria blinked, and the haze in her eyes cleared. She reached out.
"Hathaway, the reservation includes the—"
"No!" Hathaway blocked Victoria's hand with surprising speed.
She stared at Victoria with wet, blurry, but fiercely determined eyes.
"You paid for the seat. You paid for the Star-Dust. You paid for my brain cells for the last 30 days."
Hathaway pointed at the empty blue bottle and the giant Dragon Egg with a dramatic sway of her finger.
"But these two... I pay. I am treating you."
"Hathaway," Victoria chuckled. "It is not necessary. The bill is—"
"I am a Ludwig!" Hathaway puffed out her chest, looking like a proud, fluffy bird trying to intimidate a hawk. "We celebrate victories with... with solvency! I have money! My family dividend is coming next week! 30,000 Solars! I am rich!"
Elise looked at Victoria, raising an eyebrow. 'Let her pay?'
Victoria sighed, and the smile on her face deepened into something soft, almost indulgent.
"Very well," Victoria withdrew her hand, leaning back. "If the 'Head of the Ludwig' Family insists on displaying her wealth."
Elise grinned and swiped the card.
[Transaction Receipt]
[Deep Sea Ice Moon Sugar]: 3,400 Solars.
[Dragon Egg Cocktail]: 4,000 Solars.
Total: 7,400 Solars.
Beep.
[Transaction Approved.]
Hathaway's little treasury, the startup capital from her mothers, down to about 14,000 after a month of expenses, was slashed in half.
She was down to her last few thousand, and Drunk Hathaway registered none of it. Only Glory.
She grabbed the receipt and waved it at Victoria like a trophy.
"See? I got this."
Victoria took the receipt from her hand, glancing at the numbers, then back at Hathaway.
"I see," Victoria nodded, her voice gentle but carrying the poise of a noble accepting a tribute. "Thank you for the drink, Miss Ludwig."
Hathaway grinned, a bright, silly, unburdened smile that she kept locked away when sober.
"You're welcome!"
She tried to stand up.The world tilted 45 degrees to the left.
"Whoops."
She stumbled, her knees giving way.But she didn't hit the floor.
Victoria stood up gracefully. She moved with the fluid precision of water, stepping around the table to Hathaway's side.
Victoria extended her hand, palm up, the long black silk glove drawing out the line of her fingers.
An invitation.
"Shall we go home?" Victoria asked softly.
Hathaway blinked, staring at the gloved hand.Her brain was mush, but her instincts were screaming.
Take it.It looks safe.She smells like winter and old books.
Hathaway giggled and put her hand into Victoria's. The grip closed around it, cool and stronger than it looked.
Then, with the boldness that only alcohol provides, Hathaway leaned in.
She remembered the phone call from yesterday.She remembered the voice of Cecilia Wellington, the one person who could put that smile on Victoria's face.She remembered the name.
She leaned close to Victoria's ear, whispering the forbidden nickname she had heard over the line:
"Let's go home, Vicky."
...
Victoria went rigid. Her head turned, her unfocused eyes narrowing, and the smile went out of her face like a switch thrown.
For a moment, the atmosphere wasn't 'drunk friends'. It was 'Two Noble Witches negotiating a boundary'.
Victoria stood there, processing the audacity.
Yesterday, she had allowed Hathaway to listen to the call. A gesture of trust. A shared secret. But using the name herself? Assuming the intimacy of a sister after only one month?
It was presumptuous. It was... too fast.
Victoria let out a short, sharp breath through her nose.
"You are drunk, Ludwig," she said, her voice icy but not lethal. "And you are getting ahead of yourself."
She closed her fingers tighter around Hathaway's hand, pulling her upright, firm and careful at the same time.
"That name is not for you to use. Not yet."
Hathaway beamed at the hand wrapped around hers.
"Okay!"
Victoria led her out of the bar.
The cool night air of Milan'thir hit Hathaway's face, but the warmth of the hand holding hers kept the chill away. Elise watched them go from the bar counter, wiping a glass with a smirk.
At the entrance, under the neon-lit bamboo, a vehicle was waiting.
It was a Griffin Carriage.
Two majestic, white-feathered griffins pawed the ground, their golden beaks gleaming under the streetlights. Behind them was a sleek black carriage with silver trim: classic, aristocratic, screaming 'Old Money'.
A driver in a sharp Victorian coachman's coat hopped down. She placed a wooden step-stool by the door.
"My Lady," the driver nodded to Victoria, ignoring the stumbling drunk attached to her hand.
Victoria nodded back politely. She stepped onto the stool, still holding Hathaway's hand, and guided the Ludwig up the steps.
"Watch your step."
They settled onto the same velvet seat.The door clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the city.
In the sudden quiet of the dark cabin, Victoria released Hathaway's hand, but made no move to the other side.
The carriage rocked gently as the griffins took flight. The rhythmic motion was the final straw.
The seat is soft.The air smells like Victoria.Safe.
Hathaway's head listed sideways. It found Victoria's shoulder before her brain could register the decision.
The darkness rushed in to claim her. The world faded into a comfortable void.
Just before the last of her dissolved, in that liminal space between waking and dreaming, she heard a voice.
It was soft, velvety, and pitched for nobody.
"Impatience is a flaw, Hathaway..."
The whisper drifted through the dark cabin, hanging in the air like smoke.
"...Not yet."
Not yet?
Hathaway's brain tried to process the words, but the thought slipped away like sand through fingers.
She mumbled something incoherent about "beautiful eyes," and then, finally, the lights went out.
Victoria sat perfectly still.She did not move the warm weight from her shoulder.
Outside the window, the lights of Milan'thir blurred into streaks of gold, leaving the two Witches suspended in the quiet, private night.