Chapter 152: I am the Food Witch

“The fifth door… turns out it really does mean the literal fifth door, huh!”

With a resentful look, Peleti pushed open the slightly timeworn wooden door. Dust sifted down from the hinges as it creaked.

She had originally thought what Isabella meant was the fifth wooden door. Never did she expect that the “fifth door” simply was a wooden door.

Because of that misunderstanding, she had counted wrong. The moment she pushed open the neighboring room, she ended up staring wide-eyed at a pink-haired girl even smaller than herself.

The air froze for a few seconds.

The other girl blinked her round eyes, her entire face practically saying: “Who are you? Why are you at my door?”

In the end, after a flustered round of explanations, Peleti finally found her own room with the other girl’s enthusiastic directions.

—

Pushing open the door that belonged to her, she found the interior far more spacious than expected.

A wardrobe, bed, desk—everything was there, and not a speck of dust could be seen. It didn’t look like a place that had been uninhabited for hundreds of years at all. The entire room felt as though it had been forgotten by time… or carefully preserved by some unseen force.

Every surface was covered in an extremely faint, nearly invisible film of soft light. As illumination passed through it, everything seemed slower, gentler—casting a quiet, tranquil glaze over the bed and floor, like time itself had been lacquered.

Peleti walked further inside.

One entire wall was taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window. There were no oppressive railings, and the window panels were designed to slide wide open to one side.

I guess it’s assumed the witches living here can fly… makes coming and going easier.

She herself could manage short-distance levitation using light elements, though her control was clumsy—she often misjudged the force.

The same thin film covered the window, though it seemed noticeably weaker here.

Peleti pressed her hand lightly against the cool glass and applied a bit of force—

Pop.

A faint sound, like a bubble bursting.

From the point of contact, ripples spread across the film like a shattered still surface of water. It broke apart into countless invisible crystalline fragments, quietly dissipating into the air.

The room instantly became brighter. The air seemed to flow again, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and trees from outside.

“Such… fascinating magic,” Peleti murmured in admiration, like a child who had just entered a treasure vault, curiously taking in the now-unsealed space.

According to Isabella, a witch had once lived here.

She pulled open the desk drawer—empty, aside from the natural grain of the wood.

In the nearby cabinet, basic stationery like paper and pens were neatly arranged, seemingly prepared for a new occupant.

A vague curiosity about the room’s former owner stirred within her.

At the same time, she recalled the stone doors and wooden doors she had seen along the way.

What exactly did those different doors represent?

—

Just as her thoughts began to drift—

A rapidly expanding point of light suddenly flared outside the window!

Before Peleti could fully react, a figure wrapped in heat surged through the open window, landing lightly in the center of the room.

Flames danced around her body, outlining a lithe and agile silhouette. Her hair looked like it had been woven from the orange-red hues of a sunset.

“So, you’re the new one?” the visitor spoke.

“Fire…!”

Peleti’s pupils shrank sharply. The feather pen in her hand dropped to the floor with a clatter.

From deep within her childhood memories, the devouring crimson flames, choking smoke, and desperate cries surged back along with the heatwave, making her body tremble uncontrollably.

The witch opposite her clearly noticed the intense reaction.

With a thought, the lively flames around her were brushed away as if by an invisible hand, quickly extinguishing—leaving only residual warmth and a faint scorched scent in the air.

“You… don’t tell me you’re afraid of fire?” Judy guessed.

There was no mockery in her tone—only a trace of understanding.

Among witches, fear of fire was not uncommon.

This thing that could bring light and warmth… could also become destruction and punishment. It carried far too many complicated memories.

Many witches’ pasts were deeply intertwined with fire.

Especially the stake.

“My family… all died in a fire.”

Peleti took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to settle. Her voice was still slightly hoarse.

“Being afraid… isn’t that normal?”

Only after the flames fully vanished did Peleti clearly see the other’s appearance.

Long waist-length hair in a vibrant orange-red gradient. A face unmistakably youthful—but Peleti knew very well that appearance was the least reliable thing for witches.

Her clothing was extremely minimal: a sports bandeau top and a pair of hot pants barely covering the tops of her thighs, exposing large swathes of healthy, wheat-colored skin and smooth, toned limbs.

Perhaps due to her tall, flat figure, the outfit didn’t feel seductive—instead, it gave off a clean, sharp, almost heroic impression, oddly balancing out the visual boldness.

Do witches… have some kind of misunderstanding about normal clothing? Peleti couldn’t help but complain inwardly again.

Judy nodded—both accepting Peleti’s explanation, and somewhat surprised at her blunt honesty about her weakness.

She had assumed that, under the long-standing stigma humans placed on witches, newcomers would usually be wary or biased toward their own kind.

But it seemed this child had a much stronger sense of identity as a witch than expected.

She stepped forward familiarly, casually draping an arm over Peleti’s shoulders, as if saying “we’re on the same side now.”

“Hey, you can tell my title at a glance, right? I’m Judy—the Witch of Flame.” She grinned, revealing sharp little canine teeth. “So, what’s your title? I’m pretty curious—what kind of witch managed to break the seal left by those old fossils of Beldermonds?”

Even though she had mentally prepared herself, being asked something so core the moment she arrived still made Peleti’s heart tighten.

After a brief pause, she answered:

“I’m the Witch of Consumption. My ability… is pretty simple. I can make most things edible.”

A half-truth was the hardest to expose.

“The Witch of Consumption?” Judy’s eyes lit up. Not only did she show no disdain—she seemed genuinely interested. “A derivative of the concept of Gluttony, huh? Then you’ve got pretty good luck!”

Judy immediately thought of the Gluttony Church, which had been expanding rapidly among humans in recent years. That abnormal rate of growth had to involve the influence of the God of Gluttony.

If this new witch’s ability was related, it might explain why she appeared at this point in time.

Judy didn’t mock Peleti’s ability for being about eating—instead, she praised her sincerely.

Even in their era, becoming a witch had already been difficult. Now that bloodlines were sealed, it would only be harder.

There was no need to guess—Peleti must have gone through something extremely painful before becoming a witch.

Her remark about Peleti’s “luck” wasn’t sarcasm. It was genuine happiness that Peleti possessed the power to resist fate.

“An ability related to ‘eating,’ huh… no wonder you were assigned this room.” Judy glanced around, an “I see now” expression appearing on her face.

“This room? Is there something special about it?” Peleti seized the chance to ask, voicing the question that had been lingering in her mind. “And when I came here, I noticed some rooms have wooden doors, while others have stone doors. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is huge!” Judy pulled her arm back and began gesturing as she explained. “Stone doors usually mean the witch inside is strong in combat. As for wooden doors—it generally means the witch’s abilities lean more toward support or daily life… or, well, aren’t very suited for direct combat. Relatively ‘weaker,’ you could say.”

She patted Peleti on the shoulder, her smile bright and easygoing.

“But don’t worry about that! Combat power isn’t everything. In this tower, there are all kinds of powerful figures—everyone has their own way of living.”