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THEN one day, the man she had a one-sided crush on for four years arrived at her front door—seeking a love potion to use on the person he loved.
That’s a good enough reason for me to sulk, Rose thought as she ground out her feelings by turning the quern-stone.
Prepare the requested potion in order to put food on the table—witches lived by that creed, and as a witch, Rose did the same on her small island.
But she couldn’t feed herself by only taking requests for specialty items crafted solely by witches.
Rose sold ordinary curatives to the merchant who regularly dropped by the hermitage. Special potions brewed by witches were too expensive to keep in stock.
“Special hair tonic that makes old hair healthy again if you leave it in for several minutes before washing it out.”
“Oils that will make you popular with the ladies if you use it to wash under your arms.”
“Salve that will make you warm if you rub it in your hands.”
“Powders that will relieve itchy soles.”
These were some of the most popular daily necessities people wanted to buy even though they were all ordinary curatives no one would assume were made by a witch. The plus was that they were cheap to make. She made them in large batches. Medicines for colds were naturally a part of her repertoire, but since almost every village had its own doctor these days, the demand for it was in decline. People would rather buy their medicine from a doctor than a witch.
Rose was currently in the process of making a powder that repelled insects when burned. Insect repellent was highly useful not only in one’s personal life, but also in fields, so it was in high demand. She needed to create a large batch for the upcoming harvest.
Once she finished her work, Rose stood up. Turning the quern-stone for hours caused her arms and back to ache. She started to stretch when her back bumped into a random magic tool propped against the wall. There were more objects stuffed in the room than open space in the cramped hovel.
Ding-a-ling.
A loud ringing filled the shack. Whenever someone approached the dinghy docked on the opposite shore, the bell in the hermitage was rigged to ring. Rose took two long strides over to the window and peered at the forest on her tippy-toes.
It turned out a deer had set off the bell, not a customer. She sighed with a mix of disappointment and relief.
The dinghy bobbed up and down on the lake without a care toward how she felt. At first glance, the small boat looked like it could be taken only one way, from the forest to the hermitage, but it was actually connected to the island by rope. By pulling the rope reel located on the dock in her garden, she could tow the dinghy to her. Therefore, even if the dinghy was on the forest side, Rose could go out by boat.
While the option to leave was there, she generally chose the life of a shut-in. She rarely boarded the dinghy to travel outside the forest.
She walked away from the window with her robe dragging behind her. Dust had turned her black robe gray. She wanted to wash it but couldn’t, because she didn’t know when Harij might visit. The robe was pivotal in hiding the emotions she couldn’t conceal.
“I have to buy another one…”
She had been using her grandmother’s and mother’s hand-me-downs all this time but had worn out or burned them while brewing potions, so she was wearing the last intact robe she had. The merchant’s next visit was two weeks away. That was a long time. She brought her sleeve to her nose and sniffed. It kind of reeked.
Smelling bad was worse than not having a robe to hide under. After struggling with the two choices, Rose decided on the troublesome option of washing it.
She grabbed several bottles from the shelf and dragged a wooden tub outside.
The lake was only a few steps away.
Surrounding the hovel on all sides, it sparkled radiantly under the bright sun. Dipping her hands in the water made them so cold it hurt; the water was freezing to the point it almost felt holy. Her ancestors may have settled in such a remote place because of this beautiful body of water. After all, high-quality raw materials were crucial to the creation of a witch’s secret potions.
Rose decided she might as well water the field while she was at it. She removed her robe and also her dress, leaving on only a chemise. She then scrubbed her clothes with the “potion to remove stubborn stains” that she had poured into the tub.
After debating it for a moment, she also poured in a “potion to sprinkle on your neck before a date.” She didn’t do it for any particular reason. Then she figured she might as well wash her hair with the fluffy white bubbles. She didn’t do that for any particular reason, either.
Ding-a-ling.
The bell rang again. Because it also served as a warning system, it was adjusted so she could hear it wherever she was no matter what she was doing.
“…No waaay,” she uttered in horror. How could it ring at a time when she not only was wearing just a thin chemise, but also had a head full of soap bubbles?
She had almost no relationship with the people who lived anywhere near the forest. People rarely traveled this deep into the woods, either.
It can’t be. What if he came right now…?
No, he wouldn’t. He has only ever visited me at night.
Even though she knew his visiting habits, she nervously looked up while feeling her heart sink into the pit of her stomach.
There he was—the same deer as before, with what she could swear was a smug look.
“Oh my gosh! Aaaah!”
Unable to take out her anger on anything else, she squeezed the side of the tub.
I really, really wouldn’t have minded if it was him! I really wasn’t washing up for any particular reason having to do with him!
She roughly rinsed out her hair and then dove into the lake with the chemise on. The icy coldness of the water permeated her body. After rinsing bubbles and dirt off underwater, she surfaced. The chemise that had been clinging to her body spread out in the water. She went ahead and just floated on the surface.
“…I wore myself out for no reason…”
She wasn’t used to the wild swing in her emotions. Rose had lived a long time alone, and she had gone through life repeating the same rote schedule every day.
Even the one-sided love she had developed four years ago was merely something she enjoyed reflecting on as a good memory.
Rose never intended to face her frank and raw emotions like this.
Aside from the merchant who came by on his runs, the Witch only received one visitor every few months, and even that wasn’t always so. That was why her heart jumped and sank every time the bell jangled.
Harij wasn’t coming to see Rose. He was coming to see the Witch.
Therefore, Harij wouldn’t care in the least if her hair was covered in bubbles or if she stank.
“I have to make myself understand that better,” she muttered with blue lips as she closed her eyes. Icy water flowed past her cheeks.