Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

“It feels like experiencing another life.”

At the end of the trial run that afternoon, one of the maids offered this assessment. While immersive films can evoke a similar sensation, listening up close to a songstress narrate like this creates an even more profound, soul-stirring experience.

“No, this won’t work.” After the trial ended, Belphegor sat solemnly at the table and began speaking.

“What won’t work?” asked Haures, puzzled.

“I mean Dantalion’s method of running the business—it won’t work.”

“Why? I think it’s amazing.”

“No, no, I’m not saying Dantalion lacks skill. Quite the opposite—she’s too good,” Belphegor clarified, waving her fingers.

“I’m a pretty lively and cheerful bunny, you know. But after listening to her story this afternoon, I felt dazed, like my soul had left my body. This effect is too strong.” Belphegor crossed her arms and contemplated deeply, exuding a commanding aura.

“Should I pick lighter stories in the future?” Dantalion asked cautiously.

“That doesn’t feel quite right. It’s missing something,” Belphegor said, tilting her head. She couldn’t envision Dantalion reading light, detached romance stories—it just didn’t fit.

“Dantalion’s storytelling style is too formal. It’s like being in a grand classical theater, where everyone sits upright, attentively listening to a sermon. Yes, exactly, it’s like preaching,” the bunny said, suddenly landing on the term.

“The emotional power she projects has reached a borderline magical level,” Belphegor said, shaking her head.

“If I listen to a few more stories, I might just become one of Dantalion’s devout followers.”

“Well, while it could definitely make money, letting this continue unchecked might lead to a bad situation—like some underground religion springing up in Arpeggio City, with everyone treating Dantalion’s library tickets as holy scripture.”

Seeing Belphegor’s concerned expression, Hestia raised her hand and spoke up.

“I’m not actually that powerful. It’s just that today’s story was particularly special.” After all, it was a memory passed down from ‘The Golden Flame’ Isanisha. Without realizing it, Hestia had released the profound emotions contained in that memory.

This effectively doubled the power of two songstresses, resulting in an almost magical allure. While undeniably strong, it might have been overkill.

“Then let’s try again tomorrow with a lighter fairy tale?” Belphegor nodded in agreement.

“Okay.”

By the time Hestia left the store, it was already 7 PM. Although there was no sunlight underground, the difference in the streets was noticeable.

Many factories and offices were finishing for the day, and the vertical elevators were becoming crowded.

Carrying her freshly purchased dinner, Hestia stood at the elevator entrance, observing the congested queue ahead. She decided to take a different route.

The alternative path was a slightly dim rectangular corridor with overlapping neon V-shaped markings down the center of the floor, blending rainbow hues with gradients of pink and purple to divide left from right. Bright screens lined the walls on either side, playing a series of rotating advertisements.

“Tired of commuting by foot? Narrow alleyways, expensive parking fees, and inconvenient rideshare services getting you down? These will no longer be problems…”

The advertisement displayed a pair of sleek roller skates. When the person in the video put them on, they glided effortlessly through streets and alleyways, even gripping walls to skate along the sides or ceiling with speed and flair.

“For just 1,024 Federal Credits, transform your life and leave your troubles behind. —Flamewheel Skates.”

The price wasn’t steep. Although Hestia wasn’t planning to buy them, she could imagine the appeal to others. Compared to vehicles costing tens of thousands of credits, these skates were indeed more accessible.

Modern ads were becoming increasingly targeted. Hestia quickened her pace but suddenly stopped as she rounded a corner.

A girl about her age leaned against one of the corridor screens, wearing a cap and a light, reflective lavender jacket over shorts and sneakers. With one foot propped against the wall, her face was bathed in the screen’s faint purple glow.

“Clara?” Hestia recognized the girl with the baseball cap.

The girl, who had been scrolling through her personal terminal, looked up in surprise.

“Hestia? Just getting off work?” Clara asked, removing the lollipop from her mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve been working lately to earn some money.”

“Wow, that’s tough.” Clara slipped her terminal into her pocket and approached.

“Have you checked the class group chat recently?”

“No, why?” Hestia asked, confused.

“Eh, it’s probably better if you haven’t.” Clara paused in front of her, glanced at the screen, and tapped her foot.

“Did something happen?” Hestia quickly opened her terminal, scrolling through recent messages.

As she reviewed the conversations from her absence, she saw the usual chatter about holidays, school, and mundane topics. However, a thread about Erin Academy appeared from a few days ago.

“Erin Academy’s retest results are out. Hestia’s name isn’t on the list.”

“Didn’t she prepare hard for this?”

“Maybe she didn’t attend—or maybe she just failed outright.”

“She hasn’t been active in the group lately.”

“I think she just pretends to be studious to look good. Classic.”

“What doctor? She’s probably just trying to make people take her seriously. So pretentious.”

“Honestly, she’s always been weird. Sitting in the corner, tinkering with who knows what, acting all aloof.”

The conversation soon shifted to unrelated topics, leaving Hestia behind in their minds.

After reading the messages, Hestia turned off her terminal and put it back in her pocket. Her expression remained unchanged, surprising Clara.

“You’re not upset?”

“I’m used to it.”

“You’ve really changed. Not the same as before. But I guess that’s a good thing.” Clara waved her hand, slipping both into her pockets before walking past Hestia.

“Oh, by the way,” Clara stopped suddenly, “Irene told me our elementary school reunion is also at the Winddew Restaurant on the 12th. At first, I thought it’d clash, but it’s actually the same place on the same day.”

“Funny, isn’t it? We’ve been in the same elementary school, middle school, and even the same class. What a strange coincidence.”

“Are you going to both gatherings or just the elementary one?”

“I promised Cindy I’d go to the elementary reunion.”

“Cindy, huh? You two were always close.” Clara fell silent for a moment, then added, “Honestly, Hestia, you shouldn’t have come to this middle school…”

Her voice trailed off, and she didn’t elaborate further. She knew Hestia disliked and didn’t fit in with these classmates, but life had forced their paths to cross.

“If you want to avoid those middle school classmates that day, I can cover for you. I know both groups, so I can scout out the place first.”

“Thanks.” Hestia’s tone was cold, lacking its usual warmth.

“No problem.”

Clara continued forward, and the two walked down opposite ends of the corridor, growing further apart.

In the dim passageway, Clara sucked on her candy, memories of their childhood surfacing now and then.

Elementary-school Hestia wasn’t like this. She had a family everyone envied and an older sister idolized by her peers. Though shy, she was the center of attention—a cherished princess.

Clara, on the other hand, had been an ordinary classmate, watching from afar as teachers and students alike adored Hestia. For years, they barely exchanged words.

But life changed. Hestia’s family fell into ruin, her sister passed away, and all the brilliance faded. She moved to the impoverished lower district and ended up in the same middle school as Clara.

Although they knew each other, their personalities diverged. Clara became engrossed in the StarNet and idol culture, leaving little room to engage with Hestia. Few in their class even realized they’d once been elementary schoolmates.

Perhaps it was years of accumulated stress and anxiety that led to Hestia’s poor performance in the exam. Clara felt a mix of sympathy and regret.

After chatting with Dudu, Clara learned that Hestia had also fallen out with Lina, her closest companion. No wonder Lina made snide remarks about Hestia in the group chat, encouraging others to gossip about her.

Clara understood Hestia must feel isolated, working alone to make ends meet. That was why, for once, Clara had volunteered to help cover for her.

“If I don’t lend a hand, who will?”