Standing before the elegant, regal stranger, Ian couldn't help but feel a little tense.
Though he had the ability to enter the Limbo Mirage, he had only ever encountered two people here.
This woman was the third.
This was the realm of the dead.
Who could say what kind of past or power this woman carried?
"Who are you?"
Ian subtly adjusted his stance, ready to bolt at any moment.
The woman arched a single brow.
"That poor little girl went off with your wandering friend to look for some ridiculous golden apple. As if a place like this would ever have something so absurd."
Her tone carried no small amount of scorn.
Wandering friend?
Ian immediately understood. The woman must be referring to his other companion here—like Ariana, a soul wandering the Mirage.
Pandero Natger.
A rather plain name. A boy with a passion for exploration. That probably explained why this mysterious woman referred to him as a "wanderer."
Even in the Limbo Mirage, Pandero tirelessly explored for countless years. According to him, he no longer remembered how long it had been.
A soul who'd existed for perhaps over a thousand years, and yet still appeared to be no older than fifteen. That was the strange magic of the Mirage. Ariana had told him that Pandero looked exactly the same when she first met him.
Maybe Pandero had annoyed this mysterious lady before.
They had a history?
What kind of history?
Ian's gossip radar was firing at full power.
He didn't know much about Pandero Natger—just that he carried the wisdom of an elder with the reckless passion of a teenager.
And, occasionally, a bit of a doofus.
He didn't seem like anyone from the original canon. Ian had never heard that name in any historical or magical reference, either from the books or elsewhere.
Whatever kind of obsession kept Pandero here must've been serious.
And searching for a golden apple? That definitely sounded like the kind of adventure Pandero would drag someone into. Ariana going along fit his style too.
Ian remembered the time Pandero had grabbed his five-year-old self and excitedly declared he was off to find Herpo the Foul—one of the most infamous dark wizards in magical history.
Me?
At five?
Going to fight Herpo the Foul?
Just thinking about it still made Ian shake his head.
"This golden apple—is it the kind from fairy tales?"
Ian looked up at the woman in the ornate black gown, trying his best to appear humble, even putting on a wide-eyed, innocent expression to play up his age.
"Something flashy and useless. Do you really expect a golden apple tree to bloom in this world?" she replied, eyes filled with disdain—as though looking at an idiot.
"The last golden apple tree was chopped down when I was still alive. As for the Limbo Mirage? There was never one here."
Her certainty was absolute.
"There are golden apples in the real world?"
Ian blinked in surprise.
Just then, the woman turned, her flawless face suddenly moving in close. She stepped forward, two strides nearer.
The scent of roses hit him in a wave.
Ian instinctively leaned back.
Her presence—whether from aura or appearance—was simply too overwhelming.
"What do you think counts as a fairy tale? Do wizards qualify?"
With that question—
Ian was completely stunned into silence.
She watched him quietly for a second—
Then the mysterious woman smiled.
"Though you really are a fool—dim as a little pig—what can I say? You're that special one," the woman said, lifting a pale finger and pointing toward the forested mountains, to where a shadowy, timeworn castle loomed.
"If you want to learn magic, come find me there."
Ian followed the direction of her hand and saw the weather-beaten castle in the distance—ancient, eerie, half-swallowed by the forest's gloom.
And suddenly, it all clicked.
This woman… she had to be the castle-dwelling witch Ariana had mentioned so many times!
So it was true.
His urge to run away wasn't cowardice at all—it was a wizard's instinct! Yes, that was it… a natural reaction to overwhelming magical power!
"What do I have to give in return?"Ian hastily justified it all to himself, but still asked cautiously. There was no such thing as a free lunch, after all.
"Hm?"
The witch looked genuinely surprised, then slowly began to circle him, her long black robe gliding over the earth without picking up a single speck of dirt.
"You really don't know… just how special you are, do you?"
She let out a short, derisive laugh.
Then, without warning—
She changed her expression.
"But I suppose, for someone your age to already understand the laws of magical exchange… maybe you're not so stupid after all. Just… temporarily dull. That's not a bad thing in the mortal world."
She stopped, locking eyes with him.
"If you truly want to keep things fair, then bring me my magic mirror."
The witch's eyes flickered with a trace of something like nostalgia as she said it—but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by her usual cool detachment.
"Find my mirror. Bring it to me… and you'll learn the most powerful magic I can teach."
"Mirror?"Ian frowned. He didn't quite understand.
But the witch offered no explanation. She simply gave him a knowing, enigmatic smile.
"Honestly, even if you don't find it, you're welcome to come anyway." Her voice dipped into something sly, something playful—maybe even deliberately teasing.
"After all… I do love to toy with little boys."
There was a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Before Ian could even process her final words—
He felt it: time was up.
His vision blurred.
And the last thing he saw was the elegant witch standing still, silently watching as his body grew transparent and finally disappeared.
When their voices faded—
The little town returned to silence.
The witch's expression slowly dimmed. She turned away. Her heels clicked softly on the cobblestone path as she vanished into the quiet forest and returned to the castle.
The castle stood tall in a clearing, draped in vines, its stone walls scarred by time. The towers pierced the heavy, cloud-covered sky like spears.
The weather here—
Was nothing like the tranquil town below.
Here, it was gloomy and oppressive. But push open the heavy doors, and the inside revealed an entirely different world:
A grand hall with marble tables at its center, draped in crimson silk, glimmering gold-trimmed cutlery scattered atop. The fireplace blazed, its flames casting the stories on painted murals into living shadows—
Knights and princesses flickering to life in the firelight.
The witch walked gracefully inside.
The moment she entered, the entire castle seemed to wake.
Candle flames ignited in sequence. A tablecloth drifted down from above, laying itself perfectly in place. Cutlery arranged itself. Dishes began to float in from the kitchen.
Among them, a golden roasted piglet glistened on a silver platter.
The witch gave it a glance, and in a low voice muttered, "I've already seen one pig today. I don't need another."
With that—
The piglet reversed direction mid-air and vanished back into the kitchen.
Moments later, a lamb floated in to take its place.
Magic sparkled around her as her robes refreshed themselves—clean, pristine. She didn't sit to eat. Instead, she made her way slowly toward her bedroom.
"Mirror, mirror, who's the fairest in this world…"
Alone in the empty room, seated before a vanity that lacked its mirror, the witch whispered softly—half in jest, half in sorrow—her voice low, layered with self-mockery and something far more complicated.
(End of Chapter)