Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

Crystal Dream

In the simulated sky, flashes of lightning flickered, and raindrops seemed to fall from above. Soon, the faint patter of rain echoed through the shop.

Though it wouldn’t truly rain inside, the hyper-realistic environment was so lifelike that one could easily forget and willingly immerse themselves in the soothing ambiance.

It was mid-May, coinciding with the rainy season on the surface—a perfect match for the current climate.

Hestia was seated in Botis’s glass jungle, listening to the rhythmic sound of rain drumming on banana leaves. In front of her lay a small notebook, and on the table rested a quiet, large spider.

The scratch of her pen on paper was audible. Despite living in an interstellar era, humanity still found occasional use for pen and paper, though it was far less common than before.

Since the concert that day, Hestia had felt a subtle change within herself—something difficult to describe. Perhaps she was calmer now? At the very least, she no longer felt nervous or restless as often.

Holding her pen, she tilted her head in thought, then absentmindedly tapped the spider on the table with the pen’s shaft. After a while, she resumed writing.

She was organizing her recent thoughts, attempting to bring order to the chaos of her life.

1. Prepare to advance to Decay Sequence 3, aiming for a higher-quality pathway this time.

2. Begin studying music. The surreal dream of that day and the recent concert made it clear that she couldn’t escape the influence of Songstress-halo.

3. Get ready for the academy re-examination. Although the list of candidates hadn’t been released yet, it was wise to prepare in advance.

After drafting her schedule, Hestia used her personal terminal to scan the paper and upload it to her digital memo.

With her plans set, she stood and prepared to tackle the day, starting with assisting her “sister,” Haures.

…

Hestia walked through the hall, delivering a tray of beverages to a familiar, elegant lady. She bowed politely.

“You’re getting more skilled, Dantelion.”

“Thank you. Please enjoy.”

“Wait a moment, could you sit with me for a while?”

This was the first time the lady had asked Hestia to stay.

“Of course.” Hestia stood quietly to the side, waiting patiently.

After adding a few flavor cubes to her coffee, the lady took a slow sip before setting the cup down.

“Age makes one crave sweetness more,” she remarked casually.

“Dantelion, you’re in high school now, aren’t you?”

“Not yet. Actually, I’ve just graduated middle school and am awaiting further notice.”

“That’s impressive. Have you considered where you’d like to study? I might be able to help.”

Though Hestia didn’t know the lady’s precise identity, she could infer her extraordinary background. After all, few could afford to frequently purchase T3-grade beverages at 8,000 to 20,000 federal credits per cup—a sum exceeding many people’s monthly salaries.

“I’ve applied to Erin Academy.” She hesitated to mention Edess Academy, feeling it too audacious given its fame.

“Erin Academy is decent, but it might be a bit beneath you. Have you thought about Swallow Garden Academy? The environment there is excellent.”

Swallow Garden Academy, located in Northern 1st District, ranked 17th among comprehensive academies in the Four-Leaf Crystal Constellation—a top-tier institution.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but the application deadline has passed,” Hestia replied hesitantly.

The idea was tempting but overwhelming. She felt undeserving of such an opportunity, having done little to warrant such generosity.

“It’s not a problem. They haven’t finalized their enrollment list. You can apply through a special channel and still make it,” the lady said casually.

Elite academies often reserved slots for those who made significant contributions or donations. The lady’s offer was genuine, though Hestia found it hard to believe she’d encounter such a fabled chance.

“This… thank you. I just don’t know how to respond. It feels like too much for someone like me.”

“You’re overthinking, Dantelion.” The lady chuckled.

“What seems monumental to you is a minor matter for me—just a phone call. You have potential but may lack opportunities due to your background. Investing in promising individuals like you is rewarding, especially when it allows you to shine. It’s far better than seeing life’s burdens dull your spirit.”

“There’s no need for excessive gratitude. Consider it like finding a gold coin dropped from the sky—pick it up with ease.”

“If you still feel uneasy, then work hard at school. My recommendations are never misplaced.”

The lady spoke with calm confidence, leaving Hestia both amazed and moved.

After a brief chat, Hestia returned to the bar. Haures, curious about her extended absence, listened to her account.

“Ah, I see. Dantelion, just accept it with peace of mind,” Haures advised casually.

“But is it really okay to accept such kindness so freely?”

“To someone of her stature, this is indeed a trivial matter. Perhaps she sees potential in you and decided to lend a hand on a whim.”

“Alright…” As Hestia gradually came to terms with the situation, she suddenly realized she hadn’t exchanged contact details with the lady. Yet, moments later, her personal terminal buzzed with a message.

[Dear Hestia: Welcome to Swallow Garden Academy. After reviewing your application, our faculty has approved it. Please attend the re-examination on May 28 and prepare the following materials…]

Hestia blinked, astonished. How had the lady known her name and contact details?

“Dantelion, you do remember signing a contract to work here, right? And that lady happens to be one of the shop’s shareholders,” Haures explained knowingly.

With a mix of anticipation and disbelief, Hestia finished her morning tasks. At noon, the shop distributed cookie boxes to each maid.

The specialty metallic box resembled a slice of pale-blue cake. Inside, rows of neatly arranged rectangular cookies in five colors—pink, white, yellow, white, and blue—exuded an adorable charm.

These were “Chiffon Homeland” T4-grade fragrant cookies, prized for restoring magical energy, rejuvenating stamina, and slightly stabilizing transcendent cores. Retailing at 2,000 federal credits, they were highly sought after.

“This month’s snack, huh? I thought it’d be chocolates,” Belphegor commented, popping cookies into her mouth one by one.

Hestia, Belphegor, and Decarabia sat in a corner of the hall, chatting and snacking during their break.

“Dantelion, this must be your first time receiving these snacks. They’re part of the shop’s monthly perks,” Belphegor explained.

“Working here occasionally makes us miss meals, but instead of giving us free access to premium ingredients, they compensate us with these treats,” the senior maid added.

“Just this box of snacks is almost equivalent to my monthly salary,” Hestia exclaimed in surprise. She had never eaten such expensive snacks before.

“Mm, if you only count the base salary,” the bunny-eared maid said, twitching her ears.

“I buy them myself sometimes too. After all, eating more is beneficial for advancement. It’s worth it if it goes into your stomach~”

“Alright, let’s stop chatting. I’ve got someone challenging me this afternoon. I’ll head off first, you two continue.” With that, Belphegor handed the snack box to Decarabia for safekeeping and jogged off toward the gaming area.

“Want to try one, Danta?” Decarabia asked, struggling to pry open the lid of the box with her small hands.

“Sure.” Though Hestia was reluctant at first, she realized it wouldn’t do to let them go bad. That would be a waste she’d regret later.

Opening the box, she picked up a white biscuit stick and bit into it. A burst of milky sweetness and the crispness of baked flour melded together, creating a delightful flavor. As expected, T4-grade snacks were crafted with great finesse.

“Danta picked white too,” Decarabia noted happily, glancing at her own biscuit and Hestia’s.

Among the maids in the shop, the two of them were the closest in age and got along most comfortably. While the older maids were kind and considerate, Hestia felt less pressure when she was with Decarabia.

After all, elders and seniors always carried an inherent sense of authority.

Together with Decarabia, she brought the snack box to a small white-feathered chapel. It felt like an isolated, tranquil sanctuary—a safe haven for both.

“Decarabia, you’re graduating this year too, right?” Hestia asked curiously.

“Yes,” Decarabia replied.

“Which school are you planning to attend?”

“A rather special church high school in Southern District.”

“Church high school?”

“Yes, the students there are mostly from the Light Feather Sequence. We study theology, observe rituals, and participate in various activities.”

“Does the school revere a specific figure?”

“No, it’s a general angelic devotion. We’re all followers of the angelic path, striving for the purity of the Original Heart.” Decarabia placed her hand over her chest reverently, her voice as ethereal as a holy hymn.

Even in modern times, the “Original Heart” faction, originating from the Twilight Era, still held influence in human civilization. Its adherents were mostly from the Light Feather sequence, also known historically as the Angel Sequence.

“Which angel did you choose as your guide?” Hestia asked.

“The Guardian Wind Angel, Mira. Though not very powerful, Mira resonates with me the most, so I’ve chosen her as my guiding star.”

Throughout human history, many great figures have left their mark. Though long passed, their spirits and will have become symbols and concepts. By emulating their virtues and performing specific rituals, individuals could draw a response from the Aijeka Sea, with the most famous being the “Angel Descent Ritual” of the Light Feather Sequence.

This ritual didn’t resurrect ancient saints but instead imbued the performer with some of their powers or abilities.

Angels were ranked by the brevity of their titles, with shorter names indicating greater power. The Guardian Wind Angel, Mira, ranked among the cherubim, the third-highest tier in church hierarchy.

“I vaguely recall Mira being a bunny-eared person in history. The murals of her sainthood depict a saint with snowy white rabbit ears,” Hestia mused, recalling her knowledge.

“Uh, yes. That’s why Belphegor takes extra care of me,” Decarabia admitted bashfully, the pale golden pentagram on her forehead glimmering. She sat cross-legged on the cushioned floor, curling up slightly.

“That’s also because you’ve performed very well,” Hestia said with a soft laugh.

It had been a while since she’d smiled like this. Decarabia truly was an endearing little angel.

When they stood side by side, Hestia was slightly taller. However, lying together on the chapel’s soft floor cushions, they appeared much the same.

As the midday rain continued to drizzle and dozens of paradise birds perched on the beams above napped, the two 16-year-old girls also drifted off into a quiet slumber.

…

In the following days, Hestia focused on preparing for her upcoming retest, temporarily setting aside her advancement plans. That was until Botis sought her out.

“Phew, these business trips are so tiring,” Botis complained upon returning to the shop.

“Where did you go, Botis-sis?” Hestia asked.

“I went to the Twilight Constellation. There are many Decay Sequence factions there, as well as several prestigious schools.”

“Oh…” Hestia realized this must be related to her.

“But it wasn’t all for nothing. Danta, here’s a compilation of advanced Decay Sequence pathways suitable for you. There are 22 Sequence 3 options and 5 Sequence 4 ones, all rated Rare or higher. A few are even Perfect-grade. Choose what suits you best.”

With that, Botis handed Hestia a data card to insert into her personal terminal.

“For anything beyond Sequence 5, you’ll have to work on your own. This is as far as I can help.”

“Thank you, Senior.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I have a condition, Danta~” Botis said, wagging her finger playfully.

Recognizing the familiar gesture, Hestia instinctively took a step back. She knew all too well that whenever Botis used this tone, something troublesome was in store.

“By the end of July, you need to master one musical instrument and perform a complete piece. Consider it my challenge to you.”

“I understand, Senior.” While it was a demand, Hestia could feel the genuine care behind Botis’s words, filling her heart with gratitude.

“Cough, don’t take it so seriously. You’re making me feel pressured. Honestly, you can just wing it,” Botis, who was used to a more carefree demeanor, felt a bit uneasy dealing with Hestia’s earnestness.

After thanking Botis, Hestia hesitated, then asked curiously, “How did you know I had a gift for singing?”

“Well, I knew from the first day,” Botis said, picking up a bell from the corner.

“This is a special tool I use for taming animals. Not just anyone can handle it~”

“I see, so it has such a function.” Hestia covered her mouth in surprise, marveling at the hidden intricacies of everyday life.

“Perhaps you’re also suited for a beastmaster path, Danta. Imagine, ‘Dragon Girl Dantalion’ or ‘Maid Beastmaster Dantalion.’ Hmm, a bit long… How about ‘Mistress of the Thousand Venoms and Song’? That has a nice ring to it…” Botis mused aloud, brainstorming nicknames.

Hearing these imaginative titles, Hestia carefully backed away.

Perhaps it was best not to disturb this peculiar senior maid.