Reborn as a witch in another world [slice of life, isekai] (ch. 75)
Blurb:
What does it take to turn your life around? Death, of course!
I died in this lame ass world of ours and woke up in a completely new one. I had a new name, a new face and a new body. This was my second chance to live a better life than the previous one.
But goddamn it, why did I have to be a witch? Now I don't just have to be on the run from the Inquisition that wants to burn me and my friends. But I also have to earn a living?
Follow Elsa Grimly as she:
- Makes new friends and tries to save them and herself from getting burned
- Finds redemption from the deeds of her previous life
- Tries to get along with a cat who (like most cats) believes she runs the world
- Deals with other slice of life shenanigans.
--
Chapter 75. Girls' Dormitory
As much as Lily's last thought had chilled my nerves, I tried to ignore the feeling. Also, as Lily took my hand and followed me it felt like her usually cheery demeanor was returning.
We walked into the room. The place was small, almost claustrophobic with an arched roof and narrow walls. Stacks of books sat around on the dusty wooden floor, surrounding an old wooden chair. And the wooden chair was facing a murky window.
I let go of Lily's hand and moved my gaze over everything. The room had an oddly cozy feeling to it. The kind of feeling hiding in a closet while playing hide-and-go-seek gives.
Then somberness swept over me. This was Martha's escape. Her way to escape the laughter and hatred of her peers. Her way to be out of the reach of the world. Silence can be such a perfect comfort.
I think everyone yearns for that perfect silence at least once. And we all have our ways of reaching that silence. Even if our means hurt others or hurt us.
In a twisted sort of way, I could understand Martha. But I didn't understand those that laughed at her. Not yet. And I didn't feel very keen on it either.
“There are no new triplet verses,” Lily said, flipping through the pages of the small notebook.
I shook my head. “We don't need one. Our next clue is right here.” I walked up to the chair and looked at the seat. On top of it sat a rusty iron bird about the size of a lemon.
“That looks like a robin,” Lily said.
“But why a robin?” I said.
“Maybe because it can't fly?” Lily suggested.
I turned the metal bird in my hand, examining it, trying to find what was so unique about it. Then the thing gave a soft hiss which was followed by the clinking of tiny gears turning within. It hopped out of my hand and started moving across the floor.
It made its way to the murky window on the wall. It pecked at the dusty glass with its tiny beak, as if pointing towards what stood on the other side.
Lily and I went and saw what it was pointing at. Beyond the glass was the building with a weather beaten sign that said: Girls’ Dormitory.
As the bird kept pecking at the window, the glass parted sideways like a curtain does before the play begins. Then the bird dove out of the newly formed opening.
For a moment my breath hitched. But it was a false alarm. The bird hadn't fallen to its doom. Instead it had landed safely on a stairway of bricks sticking out of the wall.
“That wasn't here before, Miss Elsa,” Lily said.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Just how powerful is this curse?
Just like before, I pushed my nervousness and unease aside and spoke up. “The bird is going down the stairs. We need to follow it. This is obviously our next clue.”
Lily took my hand again. Then we followed the bird.
The metallic robin led us across the yard where the girls’ dormitory building was. What happened inside was a lot more absurd than what happened so far.
The interior of the building was just as grim and desolate as the rest of the school. And the entrance door that had opened for us with a groan had probably remained closed for a long time. But inside the building, it didn't smell anything like a closed, abandoned building. Instead the place had a lingering scent of lavender. And this time Lily could smell it too.
But the scent only made the place feel a lot more eerie and unsettling. Because empty hallways were alive with the echoes of whispered secrets and scandalous gossip. I couldn't make out any of the words. It was just noise. But you could tell from the tone when the conversation was gossip. Other than that there were quiet, muffled giggles as we walked down the corridors, following the bird.
The robin finally came to a halt after leading us down a corridor that seemed to go on forever. And when we stopped, we were facing a door.
The rusty bronze plaque should've had a number on it but it was dented and scratched off. It didn't matter, however. There were a lot of other marks on the door that told us who this room belonged to.
“Wh*re”
“C*nt”
“Blasphemer”
“Demon spawn”
…
And so it went. The language of hatred that cuts across dimensions. When people hate someone, they are barely ever being unique about it. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The door swung open on its own, inviting us into the gaping darkness within. An old gas lamp in the corner came to life, illuminating the place with its murky light.
The room was a dump. No surprises there. But what made my heart sink was the fact that it may have never been much better when the place was still in use.
There wasn't much here to indicate that someone was spending their days and nights here. A desk with swollen wood, a three legged chair, a bed with a moldy mattress and a closet.
Martha wanted to be invisible--that much seemed true from what we had seen so far. Probably the reason why the only memories left behind were what the curse had done to this place.
(That thought would soon be proven wrong).
The metal robin hopped onto the mattress, facing us. Then the noise we had heard in the hallway returned. But it was much louder now. All the voices coalescing together in that same inescapable laughter.
I felt like the walls were going to close in on me. The laughter just sounded that much more sinister now. That's when it got worse.
The mattress on which the robin sat started to turn red. Crimson stains appeared on its surface like a bunch of roses blooming at once. But it wasn't pretty. Far from it. It looked like blood that was slowly spreading over the bed, soaking into the mattress.
And the robin just sat on the blood soaked surface, gazing up at us with its rusted iron eyes. Where else was it supposed to go?
Lily squeezed my hand tightly. I heard her think “This couldn't have happened…”
A grim smile curled my lips. Hadn't what we seen in our lives yet enough to prove that this wasn't out of the scope of things that could happen?
After the mattress had turned completely red, blood appeared on the wall, twisting around like a living thing before it formed the words: “Pig's blood for a pig.”
I looked away. I didn't even want to imagine or speculate what that meant.
Then the laughter stopped. But the silence that followed was soon interrupted by a loud thud. A drawer had slid out of the old desk and dropped on the floor.
Lily and I looked into the drawer. There were old, yellowed newspaper clippings from Noblegate Tribune.
“Heretic's daughter moves to the Ravenwind capital of art and culture”
…
“Blasphemer's daughter tries seducing the teacher.”
…
“Heretic's daughter reveals true color; burns innocent students alive in the school workshop.”
I skimmed over the news articles, feeling a mix of revulsion and sadness. Then I looked at Lily, her teeth had held her lower lip captive and she had a troubled look in her eyes. But her thoughts were completely silent.
That's when the bird hopped off the mattress and made its way towards the window. It pecked at the surface and just like before, the walls parted like curtains, stairs materialized out of the brick wall. What we saw from the path in front of us was the old workshop where Martha had burned those kids.
Seems like we had arrived at the final clue.
--
Lily and I walked down the stairway and made our way back to the workshop. We unlocked the door that had been closed before and walked inside. And just like what we'd observed in the rest of the school, something had changed again.
There was something lying on the cabin floor. Another newspaper clipping from Noblegate Tribune:
“Toymaker and artist succumbs to heretic madness ; executed for blaspheming the Steam Elemental.”
This so-called heretic's name was Owen Langsdale. Martha's father, apparently. Looking at this newspaper clipping felt like watching the last piece of a puzzle fall into place.
Martha Langsdale was outcasted and laughed at by everyone in society because of something that her father said. In the end it drove her to get back at everyone in the most terrifying way possible.
“No one's laughing anymore,” said the whisper once again.
I heaved a sigh and picked up the metal robin that stood at the centre of the room. Then I began to talk. “I know we still don't know the entire story--only what you've shown us. But for whatever it’s worth, I don't think you deserved what happened to you. And I know, in your current form, these words don't hold any value to you but it's obvious that you are more intelligent than most curses. I just want to tell you that…you weren't a curse. Or a monster. Or any of what they called you. You were a human being. And you deserved to be treated like one.”
Then I dug into my reticule and pulled out a paper cutout shaped like a doll. “You want me to cleanse this place or channel your power? I'll respect whatever you choose,” I said.
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Posted Sep 26, 2025, 2:06 PM UTC