Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

As an employee of Crystal Dream, meals were typically taken on the 38th floor, which housed not only a break room and changing area but also a kitchen and dining hall.

The café employed about 70 maids, who took turns coming here for lunch. Midday was always the liveliest time.

“Dantalion~!”

From a distance, Belphegor called out to Hestia, accompanied by a maid Hestia didn’t recognize.

“This is Focalor,” Belphegor introduced the companion beside her as Hestia approached.

Focalor: The 34th demon of Solomon’s 72 Demons, typically depicted as a stag with flames at its tail. Known for a hoarse voice and a tendency to avoid truth unless compelled. Focalor controls love, weather, and provides deep knowledge to those who summon him.

The Focalor before her was a maid with fiery antlers, likely a rare branch of beastfolk. She gave Hestia a slight nod but remained silent, her demeanor subdued—a trait that perhaps explained why Hestia had seen her so rarely.

“Focalor doesn’t talk much. She mainly handles behind-the-scenes tasks,” Belphegor explained, guiding the three of them to sit together.

“The kitchen’s serving watermelon today. It’s from Northern 2nd District, super delicious!” Belphegor announced, her excitement hinting that she might have already sneaked a taste.

“T5-grade golden-fleshed watermelon. Very sweet,” came Focalor’s slightly raspy voice.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dantalion—Focalor is from Northern 2nd District. She’s a crack shot! You should learn some self-defense from her sometime. I can even lend you my beloved water gun for practice!” Belphegor said, twitching her rabbit ears in delight.

“Wait, you mean your water gun practice is actually for marksmanship?” Hestia was stunned. Who trains with a water gun?

“Well… it’s pretty handy…” Belphegor deflected, clearly embarrassed. She was a rabbit, after all—loud real guns would terrify her.

Shortly after, lunch was served. As they prepared to eat, Hestia felt movement in her left sleeve. A small white snake poked its head out.

“A snake!” Belphegor leaped with dazzling speed, hiding behind Focalor. Her rabbit ears stood straight up, alert and wary.

Seconds later, she cautiously peeked from behind Focalor at the little snake emerging from Hestia’s sleeve.

“Uh… it’s a long story…” Hestia grabbed the snake’s head to keep it from squirming and began explaining to the two.

“So that’s what happened…”

Belphegor calmed down a bit and returned to her seat, though her lingering apprehension was evident.

“The bar I avoid the most is Botis’s jungle-themed one—so many spiders, scorpions, snakes, and the like. They’ll just drop on you without warning! It’s terrifying,” Belphegor confessed.

“Yeah, I was scared at first too. But recently, I’ve gotten used to it,” Hestia replied, using her chopsticks to pick up a small piece of meat and feed it to the snake.

“Alright, stay quiet in there for now, no scaring anyone.” Hestia tucked the snake back into her sleeve and resumed her lunch.

“A Primordial Sequence 2 Tree Viper—a famous ornamental snake,” Focalor commented in her usual raspy and steady tone.

“Do these snakes exist elsewhere?” Hestia asked curiously.

“Yes, but they’re rare in Verdant Veil. Most are cultivated in ‘Gardens’ from other star domains. Some people like keeping them as pets. Transcendent creatures are smarter than ordinary animals, easier to tame, and even safer to handle,” Focalor explained before lapsing into silence again.

“Focalor used to work for a security agency and took on missions in many places. She retired due to an injury and ended up here,” Belphegor added.

That made sense—no wonder Belphegor had suggested learning from her. It was likely out of concern for Hestia’s safety.

The three chatted for a while before enjoying the watermelon served after lunch. This T5-grade golden-fleshed watermelon required maintenance from Nature Sequence individuals during cultivation, unlike the fully automated T6-grade standard sweet watermelons. The result, however, was a superior taste and higher market value.

The conversation shifted to Northern 2nd District, known for such watermelons. Hestia recalled passing through it during a previous trip and seeing vast ruins—abandoned factories, rusted steel jungles, and dilapidated buildings.

“That’s because Northern 2nd District used to be the capital of Verdant Veil,” Focalor began, but quickly fell silent. As someone from the district, she knew its history well.

“Before the region was corroded by poisonous rain, the north had a large landmass and most of the population. Northern 2nd District, situated on a plain with convenient transportation, became the center of activity.”

“Four hundred years ago, Northern 2nd District was home to nearly 100 million people and was called Northern Star District,” Focalor continued.

“But poisonous rain corroded the surface, destroying countless buildings, farmland, and botanical gardens. The residents of Northern Star scattered, many relocating to mountainous regions like Northern 1st District, which was better sheltered.”

“Even so, Northern 1st District’s current population is only 50 million—a drastic decline.”

“Does anyone still live in Northern 2nd District now?” Hestia asked, thinking about the watermelons still being produced there.

“Some do, but it has the smallest population of all the northern districts—less than 8 million,” Focalor replied.

“Rather than rebuilding cities on desolate, scarred land, it’s easier to establish new ones in untouched environments. As a result, the economic and population focus of Verdant Veil shifted southward, and the capital eventually moved to Southern 1st District.”

“Currently, only three major cities remain in Northern 2nd District. Unlike Arpeggio City, which is deeply subterranean, these cities are closer to the surface. They’re hybrids of surface and underground structures.”

“Walking through their underground plazas, you can see rainwater cascading from the ceilings like small waterfalls, flowing into drainage systems below. Meanwhile, the streets and people go about their business—shopping, attending festivals, worshiping at temples.”

“That all sounds rather traditional,” Belphegor remarked curiously.

“Indeed. You’ll find all sorts of sects and factions there—a chaotic mix…” Focalor shook her head, seemingly resigned.

“To persist in such a harsh environment, the residents must harbor a unique stubbornness. As the mainstream population dispersed, like the retreat of ocean waves, those who remained are like rocks left behind—each with their own persistence and resolve.”