Chapter 46 : The Clingy Witch

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. So, who is this? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

After finally prying Dorothy off his head, Sheffil gave the eager girl a firm flick to the forehead.

Then, without missing a beat, he turned his attention to the girl who had been standing quietly behind Dorothy all this time—Molan.

“You’re Sheffil, right? A junior? I’m Molan, third-year. I’ve heard about you.”

Molan took the initiative before Dorothy could recover from the forehead flick.

She stepped forward and greeted the strange young man with surprising ease.

Sheffil frowned.

He had no idea who this upperclassman was.

So why did she know him—a practically invisible nobody at Jadecrest Academy?

“Me? How do you know about me, senior?”

“Senior Otto introduced you. I used to be on his team. He speaks very highly of you.”

As she spoke, Molan tilted her head and looked Sheffil up and down, as though trying to confirm something for herself.

“So it was him…”

Sheffil’s brows knitted together.

The image of a blue-haired man with a perpetual scowl flickered through his mind.

He sighed.

Of course things wouldn’t be simple if Otto was involved.

“What? What are you two whispering about? Who’s Otto?”

Dorothy, having come back to her senses, shoved herself between them like a curious puppy sniffing around.

“Speaking of which—where’s Lucia?”

“Oh, she said something came up and she had to leave early.”

Molan relayed Lucia’s words exactly as she’d heard them when Dorothy finally thought to ask.

“Something came up?”

Sheffil frowned and instinctively pulled up Dorothy’s affection meter.

Sure enough, Lucia’s bar still read: Danger.

A woman like Lucia—who was usually head over heels for Dorothy—leaving voluntarily for “something else”?

That didn’t sit right with him.

“I see… Well, senior, I’ve got some stuff to take care of, so why don’t you and Dorothy go hang out? I’ll be off now.”

But Sheffil really was busy.

He had to head to the forging tournament soon.

Sure, as a total newbie he’d probably be cannon fodder—but it beat spending every day playing matchmaker for Dorothy’s growing harem.

It wasn’t that he minded, exactly. It just got old.

A fun little competition was a much-needed break.

“Hmm? Oh, okay…”

“Wait, A-Sheffil! Aren’t you going to that forging competition later?”

“Yeah… Wait—how do you know that?”

Sheffil’s expression darkened.

He’d only mentioned it in passing to Luther earlier that day.

Had that blabbermouth already leaked it to Dorothy?

“No need to go anymore.”

Dorothy ignored the question and whipped out her Glimmerscreen Mirror, holding it up to Sheffil.

“‘What’s Up with the Glimmerstones? Foraging Contest Furnaces Explode En Masse! Experts Suspect Outside Sabotage—Yet Again Jadecrest Academy’s Glimmerstone Grid Under Attack?!’ —Reporting by Luther.”

Below the absurdly long headline was a photo of the furnaces—all of which had been working fine just days ago—now looking like they’d been hit by a Tier-6 explosion spell and torched to ash.

“Whoa, when did that happen? And why is it Luther again?”

Sheffil grimaced at the screen.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have suspected Luther had orchestrated the whole thing just to write a juicy article.

“Luther? That’s the upperclassman you always talk about, right? I’ve seen him in the school paper.”

Dorothy didn’t know Luther personally, only as the frequent star of Sheffil’s complaints and newspaper headlines.

But unlike Dorothy, Molan’s face turned stormy the moment she heard the name.

“Don’t know him. Not close. Just a stranger,” she muttered darkly.

Sheffil quickly pushed the screen away, eager to distance himself from Luther before he got caught in any more misunderstandings.

But that just brought up another issue.

“So… now what are we supposed to do?”

A certain white-haired witch was now staring at him with sparkling eyes.

Silence.

Sheffil averted his gaze, refusing to look at Dorothy.

Unwilling to be ignored, the girl stepped right in front of him, hands behind her back, leaning forward slightly.

From beneath the brim of her witch’s hat, her eyes shimmered with a haunting grievance, like invisible needles stabbing straight into Sheffil’s soul.

As for Molan—she was beginning to deeply regret not staying at the training grounds where she belonged. Instead, she’d ended up here, force-fed a meal of sugar-sweet awkward tension.

“Fine, fine. Actually, I’ve got a lead to follow up on anyway.”

Sheffil reached out and ruffled Dorothy’s hat with both hands.

Then he turned to Molan.

“Senior, want to grab a bite together?”

“No, no—I’ve got stuff to do too.”

Molan practically sighed in relief.

Who would want to stick around watching these two?

She turned to leave, but paused mid-step as if remembering something.

“Oh, by the way, Otto said if I ran into you, I should pass on a message. If you’re ever planning to pick up missions in the West District, you might want to consider joining his guild.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

Like she said—just the messenger.

With that, Molan walked off without looking back.

“Who’s Otto?”

Dorothy asked suddenly, catching Sheffil off guard.

“An upperclassman.”

“Boy or girl?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Sheffil frowned and gave her precious witch hat another good ruffle.

“A guy, obviously.”

“Hmph~”

The little witch turned her head away and let out a few ambiguous grumbles.