"I Became a Witch, but Now Everyone's in Love with Me!"

Chapter 33: One Hundred Thousand! That’s One Hundred Thousand!!
 

“The production and distribution of the eyewear will be fully handled by the association. You can invest in the industry using the formula, upgrade the product as needed, and you’ll receive 15% of the final profits.”
Qu Sinan thought for a moment, then neatly drafted the contract and handed it to Jiang Cha.
Witches don’t particularly like human contracts. Sure, they’re clear on paper and have legal backing, but they’re also tedious and prone to loopholes.

So what Qu Sinan handed her was a devil’s contract.
Literally, a contract originally devised by devils.
Unlike normal contracts that might require a court to enforce, a devil’s contract is magically binding. If either party violates the terms, their spiritual core becomes tainted by the “devil.”

This is part of a branch of mystical magic known as text magic.
It’s not as simple as “say it, and it’s done.” The true core of mystical magic is the creation of a non-existent “god”—a magical construct that acts as a converter of will. That construct is then used to carry out the desired magical effect.
That’s how the devil’s contract works. The real devils of Hell were defeated long ago by the witches, and of the three surviving devil dukes, none would dare touch the contracts of these crazy witches.

Jiang Cha’s inherent magic, Information Collection, is based on a similar principle—arguably even more mysterious. It constructs a “god” without essence, form, or voice, and communicates through something only known as “wisdom.” No witch has fully understood what “wisdom” is, which is why this high-potential magic remains underdeveloped.
“Such generous terms? There’s not some hidden trap, is there, Senior Sinan~?”
Jiang Cha studied the contract carefully, her brows arching in surprise.
From initial production and sales to sourcing materials and building factories, she didn’t have to worry about anything. She wouldn’t even shoulder production costs. The only requirement was to update or improve the formula once per year.

If the Alchemy Society couldn’t do it themselves, they’d handle the upgrade for her and just reduce her cut by 5% that year.
In short, even if she completely dropped the project later, she’d still earn 10% of the profits from the “Focus Glasses.”
The only catch: Jiang Cha couldn’t sell any version of the product formula to another organization.

Frankly, it was a dream deal.
“The Alchemy Society doesn’t cheat its own members. We’re a society, not a business. We make money so we can function better.”
The witch community is odd like that.

They care deeply about money. Every stage of their development requires significant funds. But at the same time, they’re surprisingly disciplined.
Unrestrained, they’re chaotic enough to accidentally blow up a planet while trying to bake glass—but within witch society, they strictly follow the rules.
Compared to underfunded clubs like the Battle Club, which survive on prize money and university support, the Alchemy Society is wealthy. Its senior members manage tens or even hundreds of millions annually, yet not a single case of misused funds has ever occurred.
Not that it’s impossible. Rumor has it the society president sometimes “borrows” funds to buy cake when broke, then pays it back later.

A contradiction of a person—but for Jiang Cha, this was excellent news.
“Then... happy to be working with you?”
After confirming the terms were clean, Jiang Cha signed with her magical signature.
The devil’s contract ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) activated.

In Jiang Cha’s senses, a faint magical shackle coiled around her spiritual core. If she ever tried to break the terms, the shackle would flare as a warning. If she ignored that, it would explode—tainting her spiritual essence.
It wasn’t a strong restriction, but it was enough to bind any witch below Sage level.
“A pleasure doing business... anything else I can help you with? We’re happy to offer more resources to talented members—more than the Battle Club ever could.”

Qu Sinan smiled and winked playfully.
“Senior Sinan, you’re too responsible.”
Jiang Cha smiled back. “I don’t need anything right now. But if I had to ask... could I get a portion of the profits in advance?”
“In that case, I’ll allocate you an advance of 100,000 witch gold. We’ll recoup it from the product revenue later.”

Jiang Cha nearly spat out her tea.
Using the Alchemy Society’s product catalog as reference, that was the equivalent of handing her a 100,000 witch gold shopping card—with insider discounts!
One hundred thousand!

A single unit of Lina’s resource planet only cost 10 million yuan. She just received the equivalent of 1% of a whole planet!
“Of course, if not for school rules, I’d just give you the cash outright. But you know how it is—you still have to earn your own tuition and spell materials. The Alchemy Society only supplies the ingredients. You’ll receive your first proper share after six months. In the meantime, it’s best to focus on your studies.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you develop next. That’s all for today.”

Witches are highly efficient.
Even though the Alchemy Society is just a campus club, it inherits that efficiency. Jiang Cha’s product had already been tested and replicated by three contracted alchemists. Final safety tests were underway.
Small-scale production would begin within the month.

“How does it feel?”
Only after Qu Sinan left did Shi Lan finally speak, teasing her.
“...A bit disoriented.”
Jiang Cha looked out the window at the sunlit campus.
“It’s like... I suddenly lost all direction.”
“You got bought.”
Shi Lan laughed and gave her a light bonk on the head.

“Alright~ I’m going back to the lab!”
The girl skipped away, her earlier daze gone, and darted into the alchemy room.
One hundred thousand witch gold really is a lot, but to be honest—it’s not that much.
Low-grade ingredients are cheap. You can buy a decent stash with a few hundred gold. But each jump in rarity increases cost by five or even ten times. That hundred thousand is just enough to fund a mid-tier experiment.

A single set of Lina’s equipment costs millions.
He Qin’s puppets cost thousands just to maintain.
Of course, Jiang Cha’s income was long-term. Right now, that 100,000 was more than enough for a beginner alchemist to live lavishly.

With her funding problem solved, Jiang Cha had a clear goal ahead:
Improve her alchemy skills.
The four main support professions—plus enchanting—are practical crafts, no different from pottery or carpentry.

Theory isn’t enough. Every little skill must be learned hands-on and perfected through trial and repetition.
That means spending time and money.
Her inherent magic gave her a big head start. Without precise muscle control and magical accuracy, even refining basic materials would be a hurdle for a newbie—let alone crafting real products.

Her edge lay in her natural talent.
Her strong calculation ability let her perfectly balance ingredient ratios. Her precision control allowed her to build proficiency incredibly fast.
And her calm, logical thinking meant she’d never make the same mistake twice.

When it came to learning secondary professions, Jiang Cha was practically a hybrid of a witch and a robot—leveling up faster than anyone else.
“Chabao, have you been in the alchemy lab all day?”
“Mhm.”
The slightly tired girl tossed a small device to Lina and collapsed onto the sofa.

“A gift! My very first alchemy creation.”
“...What is this?”
Lina looked at the jade double-cylinder in her hand, a giant question mark forming in her mind.
“A love aid~ I figure you’ll need it sooner or later, Lina.”

“Who gives something like this to a roommate?!”
Lina—who had theoretical knowledge but no real-world experience—finally realized what it was and shrieked in outrage.
Jiang Cha just smiled and lay her head on He Qin’s lap, handing her a pair of glasses.
“He Qin~ I made these specially for you~”

“Th-thanks...”
He Qin had no idea how Jiang Cha could act so calm and sweet after casually giving that thing to Lina.
She was touched, of course—but also very suspicious.
Did these glasses have some weird function? Like... x-ray vision?

“They’ll help reduce the fatigue from infection when studying, right?”
Jiang Cha blinked innocently, looking as pure as ever, clearly hoping He Qin would test them out.
“Why is that my gift?!”
Lina leapt forward and tackled Jiang Cha.

The golden-haired loli smashed into her, knocking both Jiang Cha and He Qin into a clumsy pile on the sofa—stacked like dolls.
And just like that, whatever warmth He Qin had felt was buried deep beneath mild exasperation.
“Because I thought it suited you best.”

“I’m gonna kill you!!”
“Eh? I didn’t consider that people under 1.4 meters might rupture something...”
“Oh my god! Chabao, DIE!”

“Hahaha! Stop tickling me—!”
Duang!! Duang!!
Two sharp thunks cut through their nonsense. He Qin stood up with a red face and stormed off.

“I’m going back to my room!”
“Mom Qin is mad! It’s your fault, Lina.”
“You’re the one who gave me that! Also—did it feel like He Qin hit me harder than she hit you?”

“Just your imagination~”
“....”