"Why didn’t you leave?" The Ghost Witch struggled to lift her head. From within her messy black hair, a pair of purple eyes fixed on the goblin.

"I was just curious." Shire sensed a hint of kindness from her. She hadn’t killed him, after all. At the end, even her voice had changed. The way she urgently tried to make him leave made her seem like a completely different person. ’Something is definitely fishy here.’

"Help me, help me..." The Ghost Witch’s voice was young and melodious, worlds apart from her appearance.

Shire immediately pulled up the panel.

[Name: Agatha Sebastian]

[Race: Ghost Witch (Human)]

[Danger Level: 9, A Little Dangerous]

[Personality: Curious and Tenacious]

[Own State: Basic Transformation Curse (Negative)]

’That name...’ A scene from Shire’s memory unfolded.

"And now, we invite our student representative, Miss Sebastian, to deliver the graduation speech," the host announced from the main stage.

A tall, poised young woman with black hair and purple eyes walked to the podium. She cleared her throat and spoke in a clear, resonant voice, "Teachers and Dean of the Royal Grammar School, honored guests, and fellow students, I stand here today on behalf of the entire graduating class."

"Get me... the potion... a Healing Potion... healing..." The Ghost Witch’s groans pulled Shire from his reverie. Her voice was growing weaker.

The voice was indeed familiar. Shire stared at the hunched Ghost Witch on the ground. He couldn’t believe she was actually his former classmate, yet the words ’Basic Transformation Curse’ on the panel were so glaring.

"Are you Agatha? The student representative from graduation?" Shire crouched beside the Ghost Witch’s head.

"I am... No, I’m not," the Ghost Witch immediately corrected herself, pressing her face against the floor.

"Are you the Agatha whose history questions gave the dean a heart attack?" Shire demanded, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head up.

"No," the Ghost Witch replied firmly, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Since you’re not her, I’m leaving." Shire stood up and moved toward the door.

"I am! It’s me! Now give me the poti—" Before she could finish, the Ghost Witch collapsed, motionless, on the floor.

Shire moved closer to check for breath. ’She passed out.’

He dragged a low stool over to the shelves, climbed on top, and began examining the various potions.

’Healing Potion.’ Shire grabbed a vial from a twenty-count rack of Healing Potions. He then jumped off the stool, pinched the Ghost Witch’s jaws open, and poured the contents down her throat.

A moment later, the Ghost Witch could move again.

...

"I never thought I’d see you here, Shire."

"I know. It’s been so long since we graduated from the Royal Grammar School. The last I remember of you, you were the student representative giving that speech at the ceremony."

"That was almost two years ago. You, on the other hand, were the talk of the school. Plenty of girls gossiped about you. A lot of them said that if the Third Prince hadn’t been from the Royal Family, you would have been student council president."

"That Poodle?"

"That nickname started with the girls. They said that in the debate before graduation, if the Third Prince hadn’t taken your place, it would’ve been a guaranteed win."

"I was never interested in any of that. I mostly just hung out with my friends. But I had heard of you: the history prodigy, who dared to point out the teachers’ mistakes."

"Oh, that was nothing. I just enjoy studying history."

"I remember Calder Messes bragging to us that he was going to win over Agatha, the ’pearl of the history department.’ We were all just waiting to watch him fail."

"Ugh, he did ask me out, actually. But I turned him down."

"It’s a good thing you did. The guy’s nickname was ’Seven Days.’ It meant that any girl he dated, he was done with her in a week."

"When he came to see me, I noticed someone had taped a piece of paper to his back with the word ’Scumbag’ written on it. Afterward, I saw people pointing and whispering at him around the school."

"Ah, that would be my doing."

"Hahaha."

Pleasant memories were like fine tea; the more you savored them, the more you longed for them. ’How much better would this be,’ Shire thought, ’if we were catching up in a high-end café in the Royal Capital, or if I could ask her for a dance at a grand ball.’

By the long table in the wooden cabin, the two sat opposite each other. The hunched, haggard Ghost Witch stared blankly at the green-skinned, sharp-fanged goblin, who was perched on a chair with his legs dangling high above the floor.

"So, how did you recognize me?" Agatha asked after a few seconds of silence. ’I run all the way out here to hide in the forest, and I still bump into an old acquaintance,’ she thought.

"Your voice. I recognized it. Your speech that day really left an impression on me." Shire shifted, feeling a pang of guilt, and quickly changed the subject. "What happened to you just now?"

"Demon Plague. Everyone who can use Magic gets it." Agatha pursed her lips. "So what about you? How did you end up like this?"

"What about you?"

They paused for a few seconds, then said in unison, "You first."

"Alright, I’ll go first." Shire hopped off his chair and started pacing around the room.

He explained that after graduation, he’d stayed in the Royal Capital, working as an assistant to a Political Officer for about six months. Then, his father had him return to Torch City—Baron Merlot’s domain—ostensibly to help manage their family’s affairs there.

In Torch City, he helped his father handle various tax and trade matters. Life continued that way for a year.

Until one day, his father was summoned to the Royal Capital. Before leaving, he tasked Shire with going to Valentine County to purchase iron ore.

Shire led his guards to an inn, but to his shock, the very next day he received news of his father’s conviction for treason, along with a warrant for his own arrest. He and his guards immediately set out to try and rescue his father. The next thing he knew, he woke up lying in the Nightmare Forest.

"And that’s the whole story." Shire spread his hands. That was the sum total of the memories he’d inherited.

"My story..." While Shire had been telling his tale, Agatha’s eyes had followed his every move. But now that it was her turn, she hesitated, clearly reluctant to speak of her own ordeal.

"Never mind. If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t." Shire could see his old classmate’s distress and waved a dismissive hand. "I just want to know what this is all about."

"A Transformation Curse." Agatha sighed. "If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been hit with the same curse."

"So, what the hell is it?" Shire stared intently into her eyes and asked seriously.

"It’s Magic from the Curse School." Agatha chose her words carefully. "It mobilizes Negative Energy, using our own bodies as a Medium to change us."

"Stop." Shire held up a hand. "I just want to know if we can change back."

"Difficult. Extremely difficult." Agatha held up two long, pale fingers, her tone firm. "I’ve never heard of anyone who has succeeded."

"The Transformation Curse is incredibly potent. It’s not like a Transformation Technique from the Arcane School, which wears off after a certain period. This Magic uses components of our own bodies as spell ingredients, altering us from the inside out. It can even change our very bloodline."

"That vicious?" Shire said with a frown.

"Yes. Fingernails, hair... they can all be used as ingredients. After the spell is cast on them, the victim is forced to ingest them, and that’s what triggers the transformation."

"So there’s no solution at all?" Shire pressed. ’At this rate,’ he thought, ’finding my sister will be impossible.’

"Well, I’m running some experiments." Agatha rose and retrieved a black notebook from a shelf on the wall. Its cover was frayed, and the pages within were heavily worn. "I’m trying to find a solution through Alchemy."

She slid the notebook across the table. "I’m studying herbs and concocting potions, trying to see if they can alter the Magic."

"Alchemy?" Shire didn’t pick up the notebook; ’I wouldn’t understand it even if I read it,’ he thought. He glanced around the room instead. "Do you think it’ll work?" 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

He touched a glass jar and rummaged through some herbs, until he saw a very familiar package.

"Success is a distant prospect," Agatha said after a moment’s thought. "However, I did come across a legend while studying history."

"A legend?" Shire turned his head to look at her.

"Legend says that before human civilization, Magic was invented by a higher race. They taught the other races how to use it. If we could prove the legend is true and find where they stored their Magic Books, we might find a way."

"What’s this race called?"

"I don’t know." Agatha shook her head.

"Then where are their Magic Books stored?"

"The place is called the Heaven-Reaching Tower."