Ian's sudden arrival clearly disturbed the witch's meal. Not only did the table and cutlery in front of her flee, but the food on the plates was also whisked away.
Throughout the hall, which resembled a magnificent palace, even the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling vanished, and the dining knife and fork in the witch's hands sprouted small wings and flew off.
"I... I'm sorry."
The startled Ian recognized the witch not far away as the mysterious young woman who had appeared in town and spoken to him before, still wearing that incomparably gorgeous black dress.
Like a quiet shadow descending at night, she exuded an unspeakable mystery and depth.
"Although such an entrance was beyond my expectations, since I once extended an invitation to you, there's no need to feel too impolite about it."
A napkin appeared in the witch's hand, and she elegantly wiped her red lips. With each graceful movement, the cultivation and temperament of an ancient noble naturally unfolded.
This was not a pretense—
But a kind of poise that had long been integrated into her every move.
"I didn't mean to disturb your meal."
Ian still hadn't recovered. He had actually intended to say he hadn't planned on responding to her previous invitation, but he also knew such a statement would be too impolite.
"Souls in the Bewildering Realm do not need to eat. I am merely following habits I developed in life. The food offers me no joy."
The mysterious witch chuckled, examining Ian with great interest. Her words made him swallow hard, his nervousness and anxiety growing more apparent.
No joy from food?
Then what could bring this young woman pleasure?
Playing with little boys?
The witch's gaze wasn't fiery, but Ian felt as if ants were crawling all over him. He stood there stiffly, his expression and posture slightly awkward.
Fortunately, the mysterious witch spoke again, breaking the silence.
"It seems you've embarked on the path of magic."
It was unclear how the witch knew this, especially since Ian hadn't brought his wand into this world—yet she spoke with unmistakable confidence.
"Yes, madam."
Facing the witch's gaze, more profound than even Dumbledore's, Ian nodded truthfully. This wasn't a secret worth hiding.
Before this unknown soul,
Any lie might only bring unnecessary trouble.
It was intuition.
An intuition from [Thought Perception]. Ian found it difficult to read the witch's emotions—much like with Dumbledore—but this extraordinary trait could also sharpen his sixth sense.
Indeed.
Hearing Ian's honest answer, the mysterious witch seemed pleased.
"You should call me... teacher."
Whether by misunderstanding or deliberate intent, the witch corrected Ian's form of address with gentle insistence.
"I... I..."
Ian hesitated for a moment, then told the truth: "Actually, I don't know why I suddenly came here to you."
"Every other time, I always appeared in the same place—on the meadow outside the village."
That he was a living person was no longer a secret.
Whether it was Ariana or Pandero Natge, both had realized immediately that Ian wasn't a deceased soul. The witch before him certainly wouldn't be any different.
"So?"
The witch's deep gaze fixed on Ian.
He steadied his mind and cautiously said:
"I am indeed considering learning magic from you, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I just wanted to check if my friend had returned."
Ian tried to make his smile seem more innocent. Truthfully, the witch didn't seem like a white wizard, and since he only knew a few simple charms, he had to be cautious.
"They haven't returned. Only three days have passed here since you last left."
The witch rested her face on one hand, her elbow propped on the armrest.
With her other hand, she lightly tapped the opposite armrest, speaking in a languid tone:
"The Bewildering Realm is a peculiar place. It responds to people's deepest desires and obsessions. That's why your arrival point changes."
Clearly, this was meant to answer Ian's confusion.
But—
"Um, sorry, I still don't understand."
Ian frowned.
"What a dull little pig."
The witch's brow twitched, and a trace of helplessness appeared on her beautiful face. "I never thought I'd end up with such a slow-witted apprentice."
Though her sarcasm was gentler than Snape's, the witch was clearly more arrogant. She always spoke with an air of superiority.
Not overbearing—
But one could certainly feel it.
Ian had dealt with this type before. He'd learned from Snape.
"Then I'll leave?"
Though slightly hesitant, Ian only said this one line—and the witch opposite him visibly froze. Like Snape, the corners of her eyes twitched.
"What a slippery little ghost."
The witch shook her head in disbelief.
"In the past, you longed for friendship. Now, you long for magic."
She finally offered the answer.
Ian was thoughtful.
Considering his current circumstances in the real world, her words did make some sense. But why had his desire to learn magic brought him specifically to her?
"Because deep down, you know that I can teach you powerful magic—as well as the knowledge that schools refuse to share—giving you the strength to confront your challenges more quickly."
The witch answered suddenly.
As if responding to his unspoken thought.
But—
Ian hadn't said a word.
"You can read minds!?"
His eyes widened.
For a moment, he felt a certain kinship with Snape.
Was this karma in the wizarding world?
"That's not such a difficult spell to learn. But in the Bewildering Realm, I no longer possess the powers I had in life, and I naturally lose the magic I once wielded."
The witch smiled brightly.
"I'm just very good at observing."
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