Chapter 2 – The Witch and Her Apprentice (3)

Ｒｅａｄ ​ｏｎ​ Ｋ​ａｔＲｅａｄｉｎ​ｇ​Ｃ​ａｆ​ｅ

The Season of Harvest

As autumn arrived and the crops ripened, the village was filled with the smiles of adults.

While a bountiful harvest couldn’t be expected every year, the village had enjoyed consistent prosperity ever since the witch, who had settled nearby a few years ago, was asked by the village chief to ensure a good harvest. Every autumn, the village became as lively as a festival.

Josie’s father, a farmer, had also been living comfortably for several years thanks to the abundant harvests.

However, the witch had made one request: the villagers must keep her presence a secret.

Though some were skeptical, they followed the witch’s words, grateful for the blessings of prosperity she had brought.

“Is the witch a bad person?”

Josie asked her mother this question while eating.

“In the stories you tell me before bed, witches always torment people.”

“Not all witches are bad, dear. Thanks to her, we can eat enough to get by every day, right?”

“My beloved daughter, Josie. Don’t ever say the witch is bad. Praying to nameless gods a hundred times wouldn’t even get you their attention, but the witch has given us food to eat.”

Josie’s father chimed in, supporting her mother’s words.

To Josie, whether the witch was good or bad didn’t matter much.

She no longer had to carefully ration her food during winter, and the fireplace kept the house warm all season long.

The witch had also helped find children who got lost in the forest.

Adults always warned that going too deep into the woods could lead to encounters with monsters, but some boys, boasting they could defeat monsters, ventured too far and got lost.

As the sun set, the adults, including Josie’s father, frantically searched for the missing children with torches. Under the moonlight, the witch appeared, holding the hands of the lost children.

“You little rascal! Where have you been?!”

“Dad~!!!”

The scolding of the fathers and the crying of the children reassured the villagers.

Meanwhile, the village chief approached the witch and bowed in gratitude.

“I heard crying near my house, so I brought them back.”

“How can we ever thank you…?”

“No need for thanks. But I’m running low on the herbs I mentioned before.”

“Of course, of course.”

As the chief bowed deeply, the witch left the village, her figure mysterious and almost fairy-like, unlike the witches in the bedtime stories.

This impression wasn’t unique to Josie. Many girls her age shared the same thought.

“When I grow up, I want to be a witch!”

While helping with laundry by the stream, Josie often heard her friends express their desire to become witches.

The adults, hearing this, would smile bitterly, unsure whether to scold the children or not.

Rumors about witches were usually negative. Stories circulated about villages cursed to age rapidly or entire kingdoms suffering from famine after offending a witch.

Despite the witch’s help, no one in the village had ever been harmed, leading some to speculate that she might not be a witch but a spirit living in the mountains.

As time passed, the adults often discussed the witch, especially her appearance, which became a favorite topic among the men.

“If I were just ten years younger…”

“Do you think you could satisfy her with that size? Hahaha!”

In the village’s only inn and tavern, lewd jokes about the witch were common.

This only worsened the witch’s reputation among the women, who feared their husbands might one day leave them for the witch.

“Let’s drive the witch out of the village.”

But such an opportunity was hard to come by. The witch had never harmed anyone, and her fertilizers guaranteed bountiful harvests.

Contrary to the women’s worries, no man had ever formed a close relationship with the witch.

The men’s lewd jokes were just that—jokes. None of them had the courage to approach her.

But there was an exception. Tony, a simpleton who had suffered a head injury as a child, left the village to confess his love to the witch. This happened while his only family, Rebecca, was away working to earn money.

The villagers searched the forest but found no trace of Tony.

“Rebecca, are you sure Tony went to see the witch?”

“Tony talked about the witch every day. He must have gone to her!”

As the moon rose high in the sky, the villagers held onto the belief that the witch would appear and bring Tony back, just as she had done before.

“Don’t worry. Tony will return safely.”

While comforting Rebecca, the villagers were certain the witch would bring Tony back.

Rebecca, trembling with anxiety, prayed to the witch, to nameless gods, to anyone who would listen.

‘If Tony is gone, I’ll be left alone in this world. Please… save Tony.’

The moon set.

By the next day, neither the witch nor Tony had returned.

 

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The witch killed Tony.

Though the source of the rumor was unclear, the villagers whispered among themselves.

After days of searching, they found only Tony’s skeletal remains, likely eaten by monsters. The silver ring Rebecca had gifted him on his birthday was still intact, confirming his identity.

Though the witch couldn’t have killed Tony, Rebecca still chose to believe she was responsible. Even if monsters had attacked, Rebecca blamed the witch for luring Tony to his death.

The witch seduced Tony.

Rebecca turned her back on the world.

Despite the villagers’ concerns, Rebecca refused to leave her house, clutching the silver ring and crying until her tears ran dry.

The village’s atmosphere remained gloomy.

The witch rarely appeared in the village, but if she did, no one knew how Rebecca would react.

If Rebecca tried to harm the witch…

The village chief, unwilling to return to the days of poverty, assigned young men to watch over Rebecca and ensure she didn’t act out.

Some opposed this, arguing that catering to Rebecca was wrong.

“Look at the state of the village. How long must we suffer because of one girl?”

Josie’s father voiced his dissatisfaction to the chief.

“Watch your words. Think of your daughter. This could happen to anyone.”

“Why don’t we just get rid of the witch? The bountiful harvests are due to our hard work, not her power.”

“Many women are unhappy about gathering herbs for the witch.”

“I’ve heard rumors that the Holy Kingdom has begun witch hunts. If it gets out that we’ve been cooperating with a witch…”

More people than expected voiced their opposition.

“Everyone, quiet. My decision stands.”

The chief slammed his cane to silence the crowd.

“The witch has nothing to do with this. Everyone, go home and keep your mouths shut. Rebecca’s situation was just an accident. Time will heal her pain.”

Time heals all wounds. The chief knew this from his own past.

As people age, their pain dulls. He hoped Rebecca would soon forget her grief over Tony.

But time didn’t wait for the village.

The village became busy.

A merchant caravan, stretching as far as the eye could see, entered the village.

The wagons, laden with trade goods, caught the children’s attention. Josie’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the items.

The village, once too poor to be considered a trade route, had become a land blessed with abundant harvests in recent years.

Merchants, by nature, seek profit above all else.

Barum, the leader of the Verdandi caravan, made his fortune trading between the Verdandi Kingdom and the Holy Kingdom.

Until last year, most trade was conducted by sea, but recent strange rumors about the ocean had reduced shipping, forcing him to seek land routes.

To celebrate the 100th anniversary of the alliance between Verdandi and the Holy Kingdom, Barum’s caravan carried several times the usual amount of goods, requiring extra caution.

After consulting fellow merchants, adventurers, explorers, and pilgrims, Barum heard about the blessed land of Gariril.

“What about this place?”

“You mean the blessed land of Gariril. Until a few years ago, it was a poor rural village, but now it’s known for its annual bountiful harvests. Not a bad choice.”

With a large caravan requiring significant supplies, stopping here to replenish food was ideal.

The village was in an unprecedented festive mood.

This was the first time a large caravan had visited, and even the chief was overwhelmed by the lively atmosphere.

“How do you achieve such abundant harvests every year?”

“Haha, it must be the blessing of the nameless gods.”

The villagers kept the witch’s existence a strict secret.

Though the merchants pressed for details, the villagers’ insistence on divine blessings left no room for further questions.

If it’s the blessing of gods, who can deny it?

Barum noticed the villagers’ uneasy glances but chose not to pry further.

With the Holy Kingdom’s witch hunts intensifying, it was unlikely the village relied on a witch’s power.

He didn’t want to risk killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.

Knock knock knock.

“Master Barum, a girl from the village wishes to see you.”

“What is her business?”

Just as Barum was about to rest in a comfortable room arranged by the chief, an unexpected guest arrived.

“She… wishes to speak with you directly. She didn’t tell me her business.”

“What does she look like?”

“Quite beautiful.”

“Let her in.”

Though reluctant, Barum allowed the meeting, thinking a beautiful maiden visiting at this hour couldn’t be a bad thing.

Barum was intrigued by the girl who entered.

Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying, and her thin frame evoked a protective instinct. Her delicate face, rare in the countryside, was quite lovely, even without makeup.

“Thank you for seeing me, Master Barum. My name is Rebecca.”

“I am Barum. It’s late, so let’s get to the point. What is your business?”

“I’ve come to make a deal.”

Rebecca pulled out a letter from between her breasts, barely contained by her worn corset.

Barum sensed a dangerous determination in her.

Desperate women often turned everything about themselves into weapons.

“This letter—”

“It doesn’t matter who reads it. Just deliver it to the most devout follower of the Holy Kingdom you know.”

“Do you know who I’ll deliver it to?”

“I overheard your caravan members today. You’re well-connected and deeply faithful in the Holy Kingdom.”

Barum had to decide whether the crumpled letter would bring him profit or trouble.

“You said this is a deal. What do I get in return?”

Rebecca removed the silver ring from her thumb and placed it on the wooden shelf.

“Hmm… This ring alone isn’t enough for a deal.”

Rebecca smiled at Barum’s words.

She had never expected the ring to be enough.

“Then, what is the most precious thing a maiden can offer?”

Slowly undressing, Rebecca stood naked, awkwardly attempting to seduce him.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Whispering in Barum’s ear, Rebecca closed her eyes.

She hoped the night would pass quickly under the touch of a man driven by desire.

The loss of her innocence no longer mattered.

What value did the world hold without Tony?

‘My poor brother.’

Wait for me. I’ll join you soon so you won’t be lonely.

Rebecca hanged herself.

Less than a week after the caravan left the village.

Her funeral was held quickly.

As per her will, she was buried beside Tony’s grave.

Josie was puzzled by the village’s somber mood.

She didn’t fully understand what it meant to hang oneself.

During meals, she was torn between her mother’s sadness and her father’s relief, unsure whether to cry or smile.

Her father had once told her how the village had built a house for Rebecca and Tony, who had been sleeping in a pigpen.

Rebecca, a kind and caring older sister who took on the village’s hardest tasks and shared snacks with the children, would be dearly missed.

To Josie, Rebecca’s death held only that much meaning.

“Josie, come here.”

The next day, while her father was out working, Josie followed her mother up a small hill.

Carrying white flowers, they reached two small graves.

White flowers were neatly arranged at the gravesite, and between them grew a beautiful lavender flower.

“Mom, what’s that flower?”

Her mother didn’t know the flower either. It was a rare sight, often found near graves or animal carcasses, evoking discomfort in the living.

Not wanting to upset Josie, her mother said,

“That’s Rebecca and Tony’s farewell.”

“Farewell? To whom?”

“To their loved ones.”

“So Rebecca and Tony are saying goodbye to each other?”

“Yes.”

“What if you don’t have someone to love?”

A simple yet profound question.

Children often ask sharp, fundamental questions. Her mother knelt to Josie’s eye level and hugged her tightly.

“People always love, Josie. Even when you’re lost or lonely, remember this: no matter what happens, I will always love you.”

In her mother’s embrace, Josie felt a warm, tickling sensation in her heart.

“Do you love me too, Josie?”

“Yes, Mom! I love you! And Dad too!”