19: Witch! Teacher!

Ian’s sudden arrival clearly disturbed the witch’s meal. Not only did the table and utensils before her vanish, but the food on the plates disappeared along with them.

In the grand hall, resplendent like a palace, even the chandelier hanging from the ceiling disappeared. The knife and fork the witch held in her hands sprouted tiny wings and fluttered away.

“Ap… apologies.”

Caught off guard, Ian recognized the witch not far away—the mysterious lady who had spoken to him in town before. She still wore the same exquisitely elegant black gown.

Like a shadow silently descending in the night, an indescribable aura of mystery and depth surrounded her.

“Although your manner of arrival was unexpected, since I was the one who once extended an invitation to you, there’s no need to feel that this is overly impolite.”

A napkin appeared in the witch’s hand as she gracefully wiped her crimson lips. Her gentle, swaying movements naturally displayed the refinement and bearing of ancient nobility.

This was no affectation.

Rather, it was a depth ingrained in every gesture.

“I had no intention of disturbing your meal.”

Ian still hadn’t fully recovered from the shock. What he really wanted to say was that he hadn’t considered responding to the earlier invitation, but he also knew such a statement would be too rude.

“The souls within the Illusory Realm have no need to eat. I merely continue the habits formed in life, though the food brings me no pleasure.”

The mysterious witch chuckled softly, regarding Ian with keen interest. Her words made Ian swallow nervously, his tension and unease growing more palpable.

Food brings no pleasure?

Then what, exactly, brings pleasure to this lady?

Toying with young boys?

The witch’s gaze was not scorching, yet Ian felt as if ants were crawling over his skin. He stood frozen, awkward in both expression and posture.

Fortunately, the witch spoke again, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“It seems you have already embarked on the path to mastering magic.”

Ian had no idea how she had discerned this. He hadn’t even brought his wand into this realm, yet she spoke with unwavering certainty.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Facing the witch’s gaze, deeper than Dumbledore’s, Ian nodded honestly. This was not a secret he needed to conceal.

In the presence of such an unknown soul, lies would only bring unnecessary trouble.

This was an intuition.

A perception born from his “Thought Awareness.” Ian found it difficult to read the witch’s emotions—as if facing Dumbledore himself—and this extraordinary trait affected his sixth sense.

Sure enough,

Upon hearing Ian’s honest reply, the witch appeared very pleased.

“You should call me… Teacher.”

Whether she truly misunderstood Ian or did so deliberately, she corrected his form of address with a tone of emphasis.

“I…I…”

Ian hesitated for a long moment before summoning the courage to speak.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I suddenly came here.”

“I always appear in the same place—the meadow outside the village.”

Being alive was also a fact he could not hide.

Neither Ariana nor Pendragon had mistaken Ian for a deceased spirit, and the witch before him was no exception.

“And?”

The witch’s deep eyes fixed on Ian.

He immediately felt sweat break out and scrambled to explain.

“I have indeed considered learning magic from you, but I haven’t made up my mind. This time, I was really just checking if my friends had returned.”

He tried to make his smile appear as innocent as possible. The mysterious witch did not resemble an ordinary white witch, and with only a handful of simple spells to his name, Ian felt the safest approach was to be cautious.

“They have not returned. Only three days have passed since you last left.”

The witch propped her right hand on the armrest, her palm supporting her cheek.

With her other hand tapping lightly on the opposite armrest, she spoke with a hint of languor.

“The Illusory Realm is a peculiar place. It responds to one’s truest desires and obsessions. That is why your point of arrival has changed.”

Clearly, she was answering Ian’s question.

Yet—

“Uh, sorry, I still don’t quite understand.”

Ian’s eyes remained bewildered.

“You slow-witted little pig.”

The witch’s delicate eyebrows twitched slightly, a trace of helplessness on her stunning face.

“I never imagined I would end up with an apprentice as sluggish as you.”

Though her sarcasm was far milder than Snape’s, the witch’s pride was unmistakable. From beginning to end, she spoke with the air of one in a superior position.

Not overbearing,

But distinctly conveying her elevated status.

Ian had already gained some experience dealing with such personalities from Snape.

“So, shall I leave?”

Though cautious, Ian’s words clearly caught the witch off guard, causing her to falter as the corner of her eye twitched like Snape’s.

“You slippery little brat.”

She shook her head in exasperation.

“In the past, you longed for friendship. Now, you long for magic.”

At last, she gave him an answer.

Ian pondered deeply.

Considering his current circumstances in reality, her words held some truth. But why, of all desires, did his craving for magic lead the Illusory Realm to bring him here?

“Because deep down, you know I can teach you powerful magic, and knowledge that schools refuse to impart—knowledge that will quickly grant you the strength to face any crisis.”

The witch’s sudden declaration felt like a response.

Yet—

Ian hadn’t voiced his doubts aloud.

“You can read minds!?”

Ian was startled, feeling an odd kinship with Snape in that moment.

Was this the boomerang effect of the wizarding world?

“That’s not a difficult magic to learn. But within the Illusory Realm, I no longer possess the powers I had in life, nor the magic I once commanded.”

The witch laughed joyfully.

“I simply excel at observation.”