Prologue: A Broken Hearted Witch and a Love Potion
“Excuse me. Is this the residence of the, ‘Witch of the Lake’?”
The unlikely visitor caused the witch, Roze, to freeze just as she was opening the front door. She profusely hid her cheeks, tinted a shade of red, with her hair.
Standing at the door of Roze’s shabby, office-dwelling-house was a covered entirely in robes.
“Yes, uh, this is indeed the house of the ‘Good Witch of the Lake’…”
“While this is indeed sudden, I would like to make a request.”
The man simply spoke his intentions in a tone accustomed to commanding others.
Even if the surrounding was dimly lit, the face peeking out of the robe is clear enough to make out.
Rose knew this guy.
His name is Harij Azm.
For guests to conceal their identity when visiting the witch’s house—that was only natural.
Coming here was considered disgraceful, if not entirely condemnable, for witches are generally known for their wicked ways and fickle natures.
Roze watched Harij closely—this man shouldn’t have any sort of business in such a place. What does he want?
Harij’s lip opened sinisterly.
“I want to buy a love potion.”
Too shocked, Roze reflexively lifted the lettuce in her hands to her mouth—chew chew, mogu mogu. . .
The fresh lettuce immediately conveyed its crispness to her mouth.
“Sorry, but …unfortunately, as of now, love potions are out of stock.”
“But you are still going to make it again, correct?”
“Eh, uh, yeah, of course…”
From the way she had been answering till then, anyone could have guessed how socially awkward she was.
But, without even waiting for her to finish, the hooded figure resumed talking.
“Let’s negotiate, then. I shall arrange all the necessary ingredients for the compound.”
“I-it’s very expensive, though?”
“I’ll pay the price.”
“And it’s also going to take a lot of time…”
“Please wait. I’m sorry, but I hope you don’t have any objections regarding this matter.”
Mogu mogu mogu, go~kun.
Roze swallowed the lettuce.
Harij was alarmingly intimidating, yet his countenance also carried a certain plea that made anyone who heard it feel sorry for him.
***T/N : Starting a new project that fits to my actual profile description—sweet and sugary. See, I care about you guys.
It’s not because I feel remorseful for translating things far from those two categories; in which one was frustrating, and the other agonizing. Nah, not at all.