Home/The Reason I Was Reincarnated as a Witch in a Novel/ch 9

Chapter 009

After expelling Lionel, Lindsay fanned her face and slumped down onto the cloth where the baskets were stacked. Having been subjected to temptations she had never experienced in her life twice in one day, her strength had drained away.

[You're weak to that brat, meow.]

The cat meowed as it climbed down from the cat tower and sat beside Lindsay.

Seeing the cat plant its rump on the cold floor, Lindsay fetched a fluffy cushion from the cat tower and tucked it under its plump rear.

"Nero, how could anyone stay strong against that face?"

The cat's gaze toward Lindsay was filled with pity. But even she had to admit—having seen countless beautiful witches in her time—Lionel was breathtaking. Was this what androgynous beauty meant?

The reason she had never been in love wasn't because there were no prospects. There simply hadn't been anyone who caught her eye, so she had never viewed anyone as a romantic interest.

Having gained this new realization, Lindsay resumed prepping the ingredients Lionel had left unfinished.

[His appearance is similar to all the others who've approached you, meow. Which part of that brat makes you weak, meow?]

"You tend to see everyone as ugly because you look in the mirror and your standards are too high."

[Isn't that the same for you, meow?]

"Don't say such embarrassing things—just help me prep the ingredients."

Lindsay, weak to compliments, grumbled as she pushed a basket toward the cat.

The cat swished its tail and checked the remaining baskets. Four out of ten baskets were still unprocessed. Black hands rose from the ground, each taking a basket and pouring the unprocessed ingredients onto the cloth.

Watching the swiftly moving black hands, Lindsay muttered.

"You'd be better off helping every day."

[If I help and never get a word of thanks, then not helping is the right choice, meow.]

The black hands all stopped working at once and drooped limply onto the floor. Seeing the hands, which seemed to have lost all will to work, Lindsay quickly bowed and scraped before the cat.

"Oh myyy! Master Nero! I am ever so grateful! Please, do continue to assist me."

[Next time, say thank you first, meow.]

"Yes, yes. Of course, of course."

The sight of her rubbing her palms together before the snorting cat was utterly servile.

Lindsay quietly lowered her hands as the cat curled up and closed its eyes. Why isn't there a spell to prep ingredients?

Just as moisture gathered in Lindsay's eyes at the sight of the bustling black hands, a Wind-Bird Flower drifted through the ceiling and fluttered toward her. Seeing that it was still jade-green, she realized she had forgotten to tell Lionel something.

I forgot to tell him how to raise the Wind-Bird Flower.

Except when delivering messages, the Wind-Bird Flower needed to be fed mana every two days. During that process, the flower's main body would take on the color of the mana it received. First, she should listen to the message, then teach him how to feed mana to the flower.

Along with a whistling sound at her ear, Lionel's message came through. The moment she heard it, Lindsay crushed the poplar bark she had been peeling. Having completed its task, the Wind-Bird Flower drifted leisurely out of the workshop.

[What is it, meow?]

The cat, half-opening one eye, looked at the shattered branches in Lindsay's hand. The broken wood was still usable for potions as long as the bark was properly peeled.

The problem wasn't the ingredient—it was the witch's state. Lindsay trembled as she clutched the broken branches.

The cat, knowing that the Wind-Bird Flower that had come and gone belonged to Lionel, clicked its tongue.

[Why do you get angry and embarrassed over every little thing like a four-year-old? With age comes wisdom and composure—yet you heat up as fast as a brass pot. I don't understand it, meow.]

Lindsay felt deflated at Nero's words, which struck a sore spot.

Nero was right. Despite having lived for a hundred years, she was being toyed with by someone born far later than her. Her emotions ran out of control just from being teased about a flushed face.

Perhaps the problem was that she had been called cute. Or perhaps it was because, having read the novel, she knew of his tragic death and softened toward him.

[It's that face you're always talking about, no doubt.]

"Did I... say that out loud?"

No? I only thought it—why did Nero answer?

Lindsay averted her gaze from the cat's pitying look and gathered the shattered poplar bark fragments, peeling them. Though she had flared up momentarily at Lionel's message, she needed to finish making the potions quickly before heading out for tonight's errand.

Nero must have felt the same, as he pointed with his paw at the baskets of prepped ingredients.

[Hurry up and get the prepped ingredients into the cauldron, meow. We'll miss dinner at this rate, meow.]

"Good idea."

Even if we're going, we should eat first.

Lindsay hung a cauldron on the iron frame, filled it with water using magic, and stacked new firewood over the blackened ashes beneath it before lighting it.

The flames that rose above the firewood flickered and grew in size. Soon, the flames that had consumed the wood and swelled in size heated the cauldron. The water inside quickly came to a boil, and the prepped ingredients from the baskets were poured in.

As Lindsay dropped in a single drop of Rocca Viper solvent to dissolve the ingredients, the water turned purple. She stirred to keep the ingredients from scorching and added a preservative. After boiling for thirty minutes, the wound-healing potion would be complete.

Today's batch of potions is about done—what's left is...

Lindsay's gaze turned toward the bottles of brilliantly shimmering ruby-colored potions stacked behind the empty bottle sacks. The most important task of the day still remained.

Tonight, she would list the mana-enhancing potion for sale at the black market.

---

The black market, secretly called the Deep Market, did not discriminate between seller and buyer, nor did it verify the quality of goods.

When an item was posted anonymously, buyers would pay a fee to the Deep Market's broker and indicate their intent to purchase.

When the seller visited the Deep Market, the broker would inform them of the buyer's preferred transaction date in advance and coordinate the meeting time and place. Then, on the appointed date and location, buyer and seller would meet in secret to exchange goods.

Vans, who ran a small flower shop in the capital, locked the entrance door as the sun set. His side job was done—now it was time for his main business. How much commission would he earn today?

Dreaming of a happy future, Vans pulled aside the curtain he had set up inside. The hidden space was revealed.

The booth-like space was so small that it would be full with just one person inside. He opened a window the size of a finger joint and hung a small octopus figurine with a string attached outside the window. With that, his preparations for business were complete.

Vans closed the window and pulled out the ledger he had been issued from beneath the shelf. He checked the changes that had occurred over the past half-day.

Various goods had been sold—Pom-Pom Crab's anemones, swamp crocodile teeth, and more. Among them, one item in particular caught Vans's eye. Hair-Growth Potion.

Vans checked the alias of the buyer who had purchased the Hair-Growth Potion.

Butler. A common alias used by butlers of noble households. This buyer was surely a fortunate one.

Recently, a seller going by the alias 'Witch' had been listing potions on the market and had become famous, with buyers lining up.

The effects were indeed remarkable.

Vans stroked the back of his head, now thick with hair. The dense strands under his fingers enriched his spirits. It was only natural that the Witch's potions would spread quickly through the market.

Hundreds of sellers registered items on the market each day, and the number of transactions exceeded tens of thousands. To catch buyers' attention, an item needed rarity or visibility—and the Witch's potions satisfied both.

Every potion the Witch offered had exceptional effects. The Hair-Growth Potion sprouted roots within a day of application and grew hair. And after taking the potion that made certain unmentionable parts bulge, Vans no longer feared the night.

There were also potions for intelligence, one-hour focus potions, and whitening powders—but Vans's interest lay in only one.

The Bulge-Bulge Potion. If the Witch listed that again, Vans planned to skim it off without registering. Wasn't that the advantage of being a broker?

Chuckling to himself, Vans stopped laughing at the sound of someone tapping on the window. A customer had arrived.

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