Witch – Chapter 105 – The Witch and the Black Knight (16)

Ｒｅａｄ ｏｎ Ｋａ​ｔＲｅａｄｉｎ​ｇＣａ​ｆ​ｅ

“Hey…! What do you think you’re doing, smashing an onion just because it made you cry?!?!”

Estelle shouted at Edel, who had proudly crushed the onion and was now giving her a triumphant thumbs-up.

Tears and snot streamed down his face, yet his confident smile—as if he had just won a great battle—made it impossible for her not to raise her voice.

Honestly, Edel tearing up while handling onions was part of the plan.

Yesterday morning—right after their conversation about his “ideal type”—she had assigned him onion duty as both revenge for his shameless flirting and as part of his cooking lessons. But she never expected him to literally explode the onion…

She had planned to tease him from behind as he sniffled things like, “Tears are coming out,” or “Why won’t they stop?”

“This is only the second time I’ve shed tears in my life. That onion was strong, I’ll admit, but no mere mental attack can defeat me.”

“Oh, really? Onions make everyone cry! Are you gonna explode every single one from now on?”

Edel stared back at her, utterly confused by her sharp glare.

Tears were for the weak, so he had merely punished the onion for daring to make him cry a second time.

And if onions always made people cry… Well, food was supposed to be a privilege of the strong, a source of happiness. Yet onions dredged up memories of weakness—so why bother with them at all?

He also found it hard to believe that Estelle cried while cutting onions. He couldn’t picture her shedding tears at all.

“Estelle. Do you cry when handling onions?”

“Of course I do.”

“Hmm…”

Strange. Cooking was supposed to be part of learning pure love, and in his mind, pure love was more about smiles than tears.

Did that mean onions were the opposite of pure love? What he wanted to learn, understand, and practice was pure love—not something as trivial as onion prep.

Besides, if he cried again, he’d be reminded of his weak, helpless childhood self—and that disgusted him.

In short, Edel didn’t want to handle onions.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why? Because of the tears?”

“…Tears are sorrow. Pure love is not sorrow. It is strong. It is happiness. You said that. Therefore, onions have nothing to do with pure love. Hence, I refuse to learn.”

Estelle sighed deeply at his childish syllogism.

It was a good sign that Edel, who had only ever cared about strength, was starting to think for himself. But right now, he was acting like a spoiled seven-year-old boy. He still had a long way to go before understanding pure love.

And honestly, Estelle was partly to blame for oversimplifying pure love as something purely happy and strong. So she couldn’t just yell at him.

But if she let him give up on onions now… Who knew what he’d refuse to do next? She steeled herself.

Love changes people.

It makes alcoholics quit drinking.

It turns selfish people into ones who care for others.

It gives courage to face even the most overwhelming trials.

And even Edel—who had spent his entire life obsessed with strength—was no exception.

“Sion and Aria shed tears during their journey too, didn’t they? Pure love is happiness, but tears can be part of the process. You want to get stronger, right? Are you really going to give up here, just because of some tears?”

“……”

Estelle met Edel’s still-teary gaze and continued her lecture.

“And if you want to meet the perfect woman—your ‘ideal type’—you have to become perfect too. Think about it, Edel. Cooking for the woman you love. Her praising your food as the best in the world. Doesn’t that make your heart race?”

“Hmm…”

‘Though I’m not sure if such a woman even exists…’

Edel’s ideal type had three conditions:

1. Stronger than him.

2. Good at cooking.

3. Bustier than she was brainy.

Estelle had spent all night trying to think of someone who fit all three, but…

Strong and good at cooking, but flat-chested.

Good at cooking and busty, but weak.

Busty and strong, but a terrible cook.

‘Where in the world would you find such a perfect, overpowered housewife?! I’d like to know too!’

And even if such a woman existed, would she even look at a beast like Edel?

She might have to kidnap a decent woman and train her to match Edel’s standards—or just use a love potion.

As Estelle agonized over his impossible criteria, Edel’s damp eyes locked onto hers.

“Fine. I’ll handle the onions.”

“Really?”

“But… I don’t want to cry.”

“Hehe. Don’t worry. There’s a trick to it.”

She could have taught him earlier, but she’d deliberately let him suffer for teasing purposes.

Estelle stepped closer, filling the onion basket with water.

“Soak them in water for about five minutes before cutting. That’ll reduce the tears. And here’s another tip—you can use magic to protect your eyes. Simple, right?”

“I see. Why didn’t you teach me this from the start?”

She had expected him to react like, “You can cut onions without crying?! Amazing!!” But his sharp question made her flinch.

“W-Well, you see… Cooking is all about trial and error! Yeah! Once you experience the onion’s sting, you’ll naturally try to avoid tears next time. Love’s the same way.”

“Hmm… I see.”

Her improvised excuse worked. Edel, who knew nothing about love, accepted it without question, and she sighed in relief.

‘If only he weren’t so perceptive…’

If she admitted she’d let him cry just to tease him, her carefully planned cooking lessons might fall apart.

And instead of getting to laugh at him, she’d just gotten mad. Maybe she could still poke fun at him now? She studied his tear-streaked face.

His sniffles, the tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin… His usually sharp eyes, now hazy with tears, sparkled like stars in sorrow.

‘Why does he have to look so damn handsome even when crying…?’

This guy was a diamond in the rough. What were the odds that a random rock in the jungle turned out to be a priceless meteorite?

And yet, here he was—that impossible probability—right in front of her.

If he just kept his mouth shut, he could probably steal even the Witch of the North’s heart. Maybe the Demon King hadn’t chosen him for his strength, but for his potential—as a pretty face for the army.

‘If only he’d been groomed properly. He’d have topped male character popularity polls for years.’

At this rate, he might even start seducing married women.

That thought planted a seed of unease in Estelle’s heart. NTR was the enemy of pure love!

She decided that setting him straight now would be a service to world peace.

“Edel. You absolutely must NOT fall in love with a married woman! Got it?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Because that’s the enemy of pure love! If you do, forget getting stronger, I’ll kill you myself! Understand?! Answer me!!”

She stood on her tiptoes to glare into his eyes, emphasizing her point. Not that it made much difference with their 15cm height gap.

In her fervor, she pressed so close that their chests touched—not that she noticed—as she demanded an answer.

“Fine… I’ll remember.”

Edel turned his head away and pushed her back by the shoulders.

Estelle often forgot personal space, casually pressing against him despite all her talk about a woman’s delicate body. He never knew how to react.

Just yesterday, while teaching him how to julienne vegetables, he’d lost control of his body… He never wanted to relive that experience.

“And stop crying already. Don’t go crying in front of other people. Especially married women.”

“There won’t be a third time. Even in defeat, I won’t shed tears.”

He wouldn’t cry. He was no longer weak. Even if he had lost to Estelle and the Demon King, he was still strong.

Luckily, his tear ducts seemed exhausted—the moisture in his eyes was the last of it. He wiped his face roughly with his onion-juice-covered hands.

…And realized his mistake in less than five seconds.

His eyes burned.

Not just a sting—this was pain on another level. Tears gushed out like a broken dam.

“Ghhhk…! Damn you, onion…!! Cursing me even at the end…!!!”

He hunched over, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning as he struggled to endure the agony. His hands flailed helplessly.

“Why would you rub your eyes with onion-covered hands?!”

Estelle quickly grabbed a handkerchief, dampened it, and tried to wipe his face.

“Stay still, I’ll clean it…!”

“Uuugh…!”

As she leaned in, Edel’s hands suddenly shot up and covered her face.

“Y-Your hands…! You bastard, are you doing this on purpose?!!”

And right over her eyes. As if he couldn’t hear her, he rubbed his onion-soaked fingers all over her face.

She tried to shield her eyes with mana, but… she couldn’t stop the incoming flood of tears.

“Y-Yooooouuuuu…!!!”

“Damnable onion…!”

For the next five minutes, the kitchen was filled with their screams and tears, thoroughly mixed together.

Lucent