Early morning, sunlight pierced through the towering spires of the Witch Academy, spilling onto the bluish-gray flagstone paths.
Monday, the start of the school week, should have been a day brimming with vitality.
Yet, Tunzuo stood there, body stiff, face gaunt, looking like a zombie that had just crawled out of a grave.
Tunzuo dragged her leaden legs, shuffling into the classroom one laborious step at a time.
Her normally sleek black hair was a frizzy, tangled mess today.
Heavy dark circles hung under her eyes, and the entire witch radiated an aura of utter, soul-crushing despair.
“Sister Tuzu? What’s wrong?”
The moment Tunzuo entered the classroom, Sally and Huli, already seated at their desks, noticed something was off.
Sally’s eyes widened as she took in Tunzuo’s appearance, looking as if all her energy had been completely drained.
She couldn’t help but lean forward, concern etched on her face.
“Sister Tuzu, your complexion is terrible. Did your wounds get worse?”
Huli also put down the teddy bear plushie she was holding with a worried expression, asking softly.
Tunzuo stiffly pulled the corners of her mouth, forcing out a smile uglier than crying.
Her voice was hoarse, as if scraped by sandpaper.
“I’m fine… just a bit… mentally exhausted…”
Tunzuo let out a long sigh, the entire witch collapsing onto her desk as if she didn’t even have the strength to lift her eyelids.
Tunzuo’s current state was entirely thanks to An Lin’s 360-Degree No-Dead Angle Encompassing Nagging Technique.
Because she had returned with the fertilizer too late on Saturday night, An Lin’s pent-up worry instantly transformed into an endless torrent of nagging directed at Tunzuo.
For the entire night, plus the whole of Sunday, An Lin was like a broken record player, chattering incessantly in Tunzuo’s ear until she wanted to bash her own head against a wall.
From “be careful” to “don’t just go off with strange witches,” from “take good care of your injuries” to “you’re not allowed to go out to play without telling me in the future,” An Lin’s speech was astonishingly fast, and the content was nothing but the same unnutritious, circular nonsense repeated over and over.
That droning, sutra-like buzzing still echoed inside Tunzuo’s skull, making her temples throb.
‘To think there would come a day when I actually yearned for school to start…’
Tunzuo felt like crying but had no tears.
She was grateful to the Witch Academy, grateful to Instructor Shirley—they were the ones who had rescued her from the soul-piercing nagging of An Lin’s demonic voice.
If she had to listen any longer, not only would her ears grow calluses, but her very soul might have been nagged right out of her body by An Lin.
Hearing Tunzuo say this, Sally, though somewhat puzzled, didn’t press further.
She carefully inspected Tunzuo’s injuries, confirming they were mostly healed.
Then, Sally enthusiastically began sharing the interesting things that had happened when she went to the market with her parents over the weekend.
Huli chimed in softly beside her, telling Tunzuo she had managed to snag a limited-edition teddy bear keychain over the weekend.
Just as the three young witches were chatting idly, the classroom door opened.
Instructor Shirley walked in with somewhat hesitant steps.
“Alright, students, quiet down.”
Shirley clapped her hands, signaling the three young witches to prepare for class.
She glanced around at her three students, her gaze lingering for a moment on Tunzuo’s lifeless appearance.
A flicker of sympathy passed through her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the authority befitting a witch instructor.
“Before we officially begin class today, I have two matters to address.”
Shirley adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose and held up one finger.
“First, after this week’s classes conclude, you will face one of the most important choices in your witch careers—selecting your major school of study. I hope you will make full use of this week to learn about the characteristics and directions of the nine major schools in advance. Combine this with your own talents and interests to make the choice most suitable for you. This concerns your future development path; you must not treat it lightly.”
Hearing Shirley’s words, Sally and Huli both wore thoughtful expressions.
Tunzuo also perked up a little.
After all, this was related to her future spell development; it really couldn’t be taken casually.
Shirley paused, then held up a second finger, her tone becoming somewhat nuanced.
“Second, a new student will be transferring to our class today. She is a, um, very capable transfer student. I hope you can get along well with her. No fighting. Be united and friendly.”
When she said the words “no fighting,” Shirley shot an extremely peculiar glance at Tunzuo, her eyes full of implication.
Shirley opened her mouth as if she wanted to add more admonitions, but in the end, she said nothing, just shaking her head helplessly.
Tunzuo didn’t see Shirley’s pointed look; she was still slumped on her desk, playing dead.
Sally, however, upon hearing a new classmate was coming, instantly had stars in her eyes.
Excitedly, she grabbed Huli’s small hand and began whispering.
“Wow! A new classmate! I wonder what kind of witch she is? Huli, what race do you think she is?”
“I don’t know. I hope… she’s easy to get along with.”
Huli quietly discussed the matter of the new classmate with Sally.
Tunzuo, on the other hand, looked indifferent.
She only hoped the new roommate wouldn’t be too lively, not as energetic as Sally.
Preferably, she’d be a fellow slacker who could laze around sleeping in the dorm with her.
Or, failing that, at least someone who wouldn’t disturb her sleep.
And so, the morning’s Social Studies class passed for Tunzuo in a drowsy, exhausted haze.
As the bell for the end of class rang, Tunzuo jolted awake like a startled bear.
She got up and headed straight for the cafeteria, ready to enjoy her sumptuous lunch.
The cafeteria was bustling with noise, the air filled with the aroma of various delicacies.
Tunzuo ordered a plate of braised pork over rice piled as high as a small mountain.
She set it on the table and was about to dig in when a commotion rising in the cafeteria caught her attention.
She saw a witch with delicate features, about five feet three inches tall, holding a tray and walking slowly down the aisle.
The witch had long, waterfall-like pale blue hair that cascaded down, the ends slightly curled like surging ocean currents.
A pair of brilliant blue eyes sparkled, but bizarrely, those gem-like eyes lacked pupils.
There was only a pure expanse of azure, like two precious blue pearls embedded in their sockets.
The tray the blue-haired witch carried held a portion of food roughly twice that of any other witch’s, looking heavy.
But the blue-haired witch’s appetite wasn’t what drew Tunzuo’s attention.
What truly struck Tunzuo as strange was the attitude of the surrounding witches towards this blue-haired witch.
Wherever the blue-haired witch passed, the witches around her acted as if they’d seen some flood or fierce beast, frantically moving their trays to either side to avoid her.
They actually managed to force a vacuum passageway nearly ten feet wide in the crowded cafeteria.
The witches’ faces were written with wariness and fear.
Some even took their trays and hid under the tables, afraid of getting even slightly close to the blue-haired witch.
Even the usually lively and bold Sally now shrank her neck, pulling Huli closer to Tunzuo, looking as if facing a formidable enemy.
“Who is that?”
Tunzuo swallowed the braised pork in her mouth and asked Sally curiously.
“Shh—! Sister Tuzu, keep your voice down!”
Sally nervously looked around, confirming the blue-haired witch hadn’t noticed them.
Then she lowered her voice, explaining mysteriously.
“That’s Hai Lanyue. She’s a Turritopsis dohrnii witch. Like you, Sister Tuzu, she’s also a Lost Witch.”
“A Lost Witch? Is that why everyone’s avoiding her? Isn’t that isolation?”
Tunzuo raised an eyebrow, somewhat puzzled.
After all, she was rather sensitive to acts of isolation.
“No, no, no, Sister Tuzu, you’ve got it wrong. We witches don’t do things like isolation!”
Sally shook her head vigorously, a trace of panic on her face.
“Everyone stays away from Hai Lanyue not because they dislike her or want to isolate her, but to save their lives! To survive, you must maintain a safe distance from Hai Lanyue!”
“Huh? Save their lives?”
Sally’s words left Tunzuo utterly confused.
That Hai Lanyue girl looked quiet and gentle, not like a monster that ate witches.
“Sally, what on earth is going on?”
Tunzuo frowned as she asked Sally.
Sally sighed, looking at Tunzuo with a “you don’t understand” pitying gaze, and slowly explained.
“Hai Lanyue has a ridiculously overpowered, even rule-breaking characteristic: her luck is extremely good. So good it can influence causality itself!”
“Good luck? Like finding money on the street?”
Tunzuo tilted her head in confusion.
“Way more exaggerated than that!”
Sally made an extremely exaggerated gesture towards Tunzuo.
“Hai Lanyue trips over a gold brick on the street, and the owner of the brick not only has to compensate her with the brick but also pay her medical fees! If she buys a lottery ticket, she’s guaranteed the jackpot. Even when it rains, the raindrops automatically avoid her. Hai Lanyue is the type of super-lucky constitution where if bird poop hits her while walking, she finds a rare gemstone wrapped inside!”
Hearing this, Tunzuo grew even more puzzled.
“That sounds like a good thing? Then why is everyone afraid of her?”
“Everything comes with a price, Sister Tuzu.”
Sally’s expression turned somewhat tragic, as if painful memories were flashing before her eyes.
“Hai Lanyue’s heaven good luck has a cost. And this cost is borne by the other witches around her! The better Hai Lanyue’s luck, the worse the luck of the witches near her becomes—so bad it’s downright appalling!”
“What?!”
This unexpected answer struck Tunzuo like a thunderbolt.
“It’s true!”
Sally said with heartfelt pain, pointing at a hapless witch in the distance who had once come into contact with Hai Lanyue.
“Look at that one over there. Last week, she just accidentally brushed shoulders with Hai Lanyue. That same day, she got hit on the head by falling flowerpots three times. When she went to the hospital to get bandaged, the nurse gave her the wrong injection. On her way out, she stepped on a banana peel and broke her leg. And her experience is considered divinely merciful within Hai Lanyue’s track record!”
Sally’s exaggerated description left Tunzuo dumbfounded.
She instinctively glanced over at Hai Lanyue, who was eating quietly.
Hai Lanyue speared a huge fried pork cutlet with her fork and put it in her mouth.
A screw from the chandelier above her head suddenly loosened and fell.
Thud!
The screw landed precisely in Hai Lanyue’s tray.
And that piece of broccoli teetering on the edge of her tray, which looked ready to fall to the floor at any moment, miraculously bounced up due to the screw’s impact and landed back inside the tray.
Hai Lanyue expressionlessly picked the screw out with her fork, set it aside, and continued eating calmly.
She was long used to such things.
Meanwhile, the unlucky witch closest to Hai Lanyue, just because she glanced at her a moment too long, had her soup spoon inexplicably slip from her hand.
The scalding soup made the witch yelp in pain.
“Is it… really that spooky?”
Tunzuo watched this bizarre scene, feeling her worldview take a strong hit.
Was this the legendary luck-balancing physique?
“So, Sister Tuzu, from now on, when we see Lady Hai Lanyue, we’d better keep our distance.”
Sally patted her chest, speaking with lingering fear.
“Although Lady Hai Lanyue is a good witch, her luck aura is just too deadly.”
Tunzuo nodded silently, thinking to herself that a slacker like her, who just wanted to lie flat, would probably get turned into mincemeat by a suddenly collapsing ceiling even while sleeping if she got caught in the crossfire of a causality weapon like Hai Lanyue.
After finishing lunch and enduring the boring afternoon classes, the Witch Academy finally welcomed dismissal time.
“Sister Tuzu, we’re going to the Aerial Arena to play for a bit. Want to come?”
Sally slung her backpack over her shoulder, asking Tunzuo excitedly.
“No, I’m about to drop from exhaustion. I’m going back to the dorm to lie down.”
Tunzuo waved her hand tiredly.
Right now, she only wanted to merge with her bed.
“Alright then. Huli, let’s go! Today I’ll teach you some difficult aerial flip maneuvers!”
Sally grabbed Huli’s hand, ready to dash towards the Aerial Arena, her face full of excitement.
“Ah? But… I’m a little afraid of heights…”
Huli protested weakly.
“It’s fine! I’ll protect you! Don’t worry!”
Sally declared heroically, looking as if she was determined to conquer the skies.
Watching the energetic Sally, Tunzuo felt somewhat helpless and issued a warning.
“Sally, take it easy. Don’t make Huli try any dangerous flying moves. If Huli gets hurt from a fall, Instructor Shirley won’t let you off.”
“Got it, got it, Sister Tuzu, don’t worry!”
Sally waved her hand dismissively, pulling the extremely reluctant Huli out of the classroom without looking back.
Tunzuo, alone, slowly floated back to the dormitory building.
She pushed open the dorm room door, and a familiar aura of laziness washed over her.
Tunzuo tossed her backpack aside carelessly and sprawled out in a starfish shape on the soft sofa.
She pulled out her Grimoire and comfortably began browsing the Magic Net.
No witch nagging, no battles—just a soft sofa and funny videos in a slacker’s life.
Everything felt incredibly comfortable and pleasant to Tunzuo.
However, Tunzuo’s relaxed comfort didn’t last long.
After less than half an hour, a rhythmic knocking suddenly came from the dorm room door.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it was steady.
Hearing the knock, Tunzuo was momentarily stunned, then quickly realized it was probably the new classmate Shirley had mentioned.
“Coming, coming!”
Tunzuo reluctantly climbed off the sofa, dragged her slippers, and walked towards the door while yawning.
‘I hope it’s a quiet girl. Please don’t be a chatterbox…’
Tunzuo prayed silently in her heart, reaching out to grasp the doorknob and slowly pulling the dorm room door open.
“Hello, I’m Tunzuo…”
But the moment the door opened, Tunzuo’s originally lazy expression instantly froze on her face.
The half-yawn caught in her throat.
The entire witch stood rigidly in place, as if petrified.
For no other reason than this: standing at the dorm room doorway was a tall, slender witch dressed in a pristine white suit.
She had a head of dazzling, radiant golden hair and a pair of noble golden dragon horns that refracted sunlight.
The witch held a delicate golden suitcase in one hand and a bouquet of blooming lilies in the other.
The rich floral fragrance was somewhat pungent to Tunzuo.
And what made Tunzuo’s scalp tingle the most was the smile on that witch’s face.
It was the satisfied smile of a hunter seeing their prey fall into the net—elegant, confident, yet carrying a predatory aggression that made a witch’s hair stand on end.
Olivia Gold!
That perverted Golden Dragon Witch who had fought Tunzuo to the death in the Dueling Arena, beaten her until she was wrapped in bandages, and made her famous on the Magic Net!
At this moment, this renowned Golden Dragon Witch was staring with beaming smile at the stiff-faced Tunzuo.
Those golden vertical pupils shimmered with a frenzy named “finally caught you.”
“Did you miss me, little ghost?”
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