Chapter 16: Booking a Room

“Miss, here is your room key. Please keep it safe, and—good luck.”

Peleti silently tucked the key into her pocket, her fingertips meeting the metal’s chill.

She glanced down at the small brass key, the room number finely engraved on it, and was reminded once more that she was in a world utterly different from Black City.

At that moment she stood before the front desk of a local Farisa hotel.

The notion of “hotel” still felt new to her; in her experience, temporary lodgings were called inns.

The word “hotel” always made her think of nobles feasting and carousing — she didn’t understand why a temporary place to sleep would use such a misleading name.

Living in a city at the forefront of development meant constantly learning new things, and after years in the old town she realized she had fallen behind.

Even from the exterior décor she could tell the hotel was upscale, the polished marble floor reflecting her tired silhouette, crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow, and the receptionist’s uniform ironed to flawless crispness.

Naturally, the price was not cheap; when she’d paid the fee a moment ago she’d almost counted out the silver coins one by one.

Her purse felt flattened…

Peleti had no intention of staying long; she simply needed a proper rest after these past days and would check out once she found work.
Exhaustion seeped from her whole body, her legs trembling even when she stood.

The most urgent matter right now was food.

She could clearly feel a hollow emptiness in her stomach — a strange sensation.

Worse, she didn’t know what a witch ought to eat; human food seemed to have lost its former appeal and even repelled her.

This problem had to be solved quickly; she did not want to be the first witch in history to starve to death.

“Is there a library nearby?” she asked the receptionist.

“The cathedral has one, and there’s also a public library just west of this hotel,” the attendant replied with professional politeness, though her gaze lingered briefly on Peleti’s plain dress.

“Thank you.”
Peleti caught that look; she’d grown used to being examined like that.

Since transforming into this form, she had routinely become the center of other people’s attention.

If she wanted to learn about witches, the only place to go was the library.

It would be absurd to have a witch personally ask the cathedral for records; Peleti wasn’t that naive.

The security around those churches was far stricter than she’d imagined, and just imagining the consequences of entering such a sacred place made her shiver.

She had never gone looking for books about witches before; to her they’d seemed like fairy tales for curious children at best.

Her small knowledge of witches came from scattered fragments in unrelated volumes — broken and unreliable.

To understand properly she could either find other witches or consult human records.

The former was nearly impossible; after centuries, who knew if any witches still remained, much less where to find them.

Even if they existed, they would surely be hidden where humans could not reach.

So she had only one option: books, even if those tomes had likely been tampered with by the Church and polished into cautionary horror stories.
She had no choice.

A multiple-choice quiz with only one answer — how many of those were there in this world? she thought with a bitter smile.

“Miss, please wait a moment.”
Just as she turned to leave, the receptionist called after her.

“What is it?
I didn’t forget anything, did I?” Peleti asked, instinctively checking her pocket to ensure the key and remaining coins were still there.

“No, nothing left behind.
I just — may I ask if you’re seeking work?” the attendant lowered her voice, adopting a conspiratorial tone.

“Work?” Peleti raised an eyebrow; how many job offers had she received today already?

She began to wonder if everyone in this city doubled as a recruiter.

“Yes.
If I’m honest, we have a good opportunity here, room and board included.”
The receptionist produced an elegant card from under the counter.
“This is a membership voucher for a free trial stay.
Because the work is special, the details are printed on the pass; I won’t explain them all here.”

A free trial? Peleti frowned as she took the voucher.

She’d gotten job cards before, but never a pass like this.
The card bore the name Fanciful Courtyard in graceful script, edged with intricate vine patterns.

What on earth were they offering?

She inspected the voucher for flaws and found none.

The only notable thing was the name — Fanciful Courtyard sounded like an upscale place for noble leisure, located in the busiest part of town, which only deepened her suspicion.

Peleti didn’t believe in freebies.
She knew one simple truth: what’s free often costs the most.

Maybe the voucher concealed a trap she didn’t yet see.

If they dared hand out such a pass, they must be confident in their design — perhaps steep hidden fees, perhaps a binding contract that’s hard to escape, or worse.

To knowingly walk into a pit would be foolish.

She had been able to see through such tricks at eight years old; did they think her appearance had changed but her wits had dulled?

“Big chest, small brain” — that was not a description that fit her.

Peleti clicked her tongue in disgust, tore the voucher into pieces, and tossed the scraps along with other cards from her pocket into the roadside bin without hesitation.

The paper fragments fell like withered petals, and watching them flutter brought her a small, inexplicable satisfaction.

Work was indeed a problem; she still hadn’t decided where to look.

But she wanted to find work on her own terms, not be chased by people asking if she’d join their place.
That approach made her feel like merchandise on display.

And such enthusiasm so often hid traps.

Since becoming a witch, Peleti’s vigilance had risen to an unprecedented level.
Every sudden kindness required careful weighing; behind every smiling face there might be a blade.

“The quiet atmosphere of a library is comforting…” she murmured as she pushed open the heavy wooden door.

Peleti stretched her arms among the stacks, savoring the long-missed tranquility, ignoring the “Keep Quiet” sign on the wall.

Several disapproving glares landed on her at once — an elderly scholar frowned, young students shot her daggers — but she paid them no mind.

Libraries asked for silence to protect earnest readers, and those truly absorbed in books aren’t easily disturbed.

For example, the green-haired girl by the window was lost in her literature, books piled into a small mountain beside her, barely shifting position.
If not for an obvious passage left open, Peleti might’ve thought it a storage pile.

By contrast, those who stirred at the slightest noise probably came for reasons other than reading.

“Witch…” Peleti whispered to herself as she ran her fingertips along spines, searching the history section carefully.

If she wanted a steady job, the library’s quiet was ideal.

Surely many others had the same idea, but libraries usually needed only two or three staff — she likely couldn’t get those positions.
Thinking this, she sighed.

Other options… a café might work.

Quiet, few people, and—most importantly—Josuna never liked coffee, so even if Josuna came to Farisa, she wouldn’t easily find Peleti here.

There were no cafés in the street she’d passed today, but she could look through the commercial district tomorrow.

Perhaps she could find work that required little experience and wouldn’t draw attention.