Reborn as a witch in another world [slice of life, isekai] (ch. 78)
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 78. A Chance encounter
I stood staring at the map but Lily tugged on my sleeve. She was holding up her silver watch for me to see. It was half past six. Only half an hour before our steam locomotive left.
I gasped and grabbed her wrist. “We need to scram!” I leapt into motion, dragging her after me as we exited the museum building and headed for the main street to hail a carriage.
But as the multiversal laws of rental commute dictate: you never find a ride when you most need it. But that didn't stop me. We would find a carriage around the next turn. A little bit of hope goes a long way.
We didn't. My heart was thumping fast, my breath was turning heavy. Then I was yanked to an abrupt halt by Lily giving me a firm, one handed tug. She was looking at an advertisement like a kid who had just spotted a candy store.
“Miss Elsa, look.” She pointed at the poster on the wall. It had the portrait of an elegantly beautiful woman in her late thirties. The words below her smiling face said: Natalie King. Performance at Bridgefort theater.
“What about it?” I said.
“We should attend.” She gripped my hand tighter.
“Did you forget the steam locomotive?” I said.
“We are going to miss it, Miss Elsa.” Lily rolled her eyes. “As the multiversal laws of rental commute dictate: when you don't find a carriage, you are not going to find it around the next turn either.”
“Hey, that doesn’t sound–”
“Please, Miss Elsa!” She held my arm even tighter. “We've worked so hard these past two days. We deserve a good show!”
I winced in her grip and took a look at the watch hanging by her hip. It was nearly quarter to seven. Yep, we weren't going to get on the train. I sighed. “Yeah, I guess a show won't hurt now.”
--
Bridgefort was a lavish, two story theater with a dome at the top. The tickets for general seating were two firebolts, balcony was ten firebolts and the box seat was ten steambolts. Lily paid for two box seats. Then she asked the ticket clerk, “Where can we get the popcorn and soda?”
The clerk just blinked without any sort of amusement and then said, “There are complimentary peanuts, peppermint and champagne in the box.” He had the deadpan look of someone who had accepted the fact that he didn't get paid enough to answer that kind of question this many times.
I still lightly bonked Lily on the head as we made our way past the ticket window. “We aren't at a carnival. Look at how everyone is dressed.” I glanced at the other audiences attending in their sharp tuxedos and billowy dresses. “You think they are going to serve popcorn and soda here?”
Lily looked at me with displeasure. “It's my right to ask. Also, it tells you if you are going to be bored or actually have some fun. Popcorn is an omen for fun.”
I folded my arms and tilted my head. “Oh yeah? And what is a bottle of champagne an omen for?”
“It's a warning that you won’t understand half of what the singer will sing. But at least you can get drunk.”
I sighed as I decided to drop the banter there and we kept walking. In the corridor leading to the theater hall something caught our eye. Another poster. It had the singer Natalie King's portrait on it, but something was different this time. She was wearing a pointy hat, like witches do. And below her name were the words: From the Soulless Sirens.
Lily and I had a nearly identical reaction. A witch as a public performer?
“Miss Elsa…I think this show might be more interesting than I gave it credit for.”
--
Our box was in the dress circle of the theater hall. We made our way past the crowd of audiences shuffling around to take their seats. A copper plaque on a polished walnut door said No.5. That was ours. Lily and I stepped inside.
Two women were already seated in two other chairs. One of them was wearing a hat with the veil pulled down over her eyes so half of her face was obscured. The other one was airing her face with a peacock feathered fan. They didn't even glance at us as we entered. It was clear that the box seats were for the high society with how expensive it was and the complimentary champagne, but I would've expected at least some kind of acknowledgement from the high society when someone entered.
Such indifference was oddly comforting and concerning at the same time. It was a comfort to know that I didn't have to worry about making small talk. But I was concerned one of the two ladies would suddenly break out in a haughty monologue about “Who let these rubes in?”
Pushing those thoughts aside, Lily and I settled into our own velvet chairs next to the two well dressed women and looked out the window in front of us. The air was alive with the scent of beeswax polish, rosewater perfume and champagne. People kept milling about in the general seating as they settled down. The frescoed ceiling depicted mythical creatures playing lyres and lutes while lounging on the clouds. A pair of wooden angels were carved at either top corners of the stage so when the curtains would rise it felt like they were the ones holding them apart for us mere mortals to see.
After a few minutes of chatter and shuffle, the curtains did finally rise. Gas lamps illuminated the woman on stage. Natalie King with her silver blonde hair, dressed in ornate silks, holding a harp and smiling at the crowd with a smile that only popular public personalities knew how to pull off. She bowed her head in respect to the people watching. And then her fingers strummed at the strings on the harp.
The words that flowed from her didn't have any difficulty reaching all the way back to our box. Come to think of it, her voice and her music sounded like she was singing in a much smaller room and not in a theater this big. Every word was clear. Every emotion was sharp as a scalpel.
The song she sang was about self destruction and the inevitability of death.
And I'd never heard anything so pure and raw before, a song that latches onto your soul like a shackle.
When people describe any piece of art as “captivating”, this is what they mean by it.
As the song hit the second verse and the protagonist began to recount and repent on her life of sin and addiction, I felt my spine tingle and my hands grabbed onto the arms of my velvet chair.
Wait, what?
It was like a fog dissipating from your vision. Like a curtain being lifted for things to be more clear. Then I noticed something else. Natalie King wasn't actually singing any lyrics. Her voice just seemed to hit specific notes that evoked strong emotions. It was similar to casting a spell if spells didn't use words but just malice infused sounds. For a moment I was awed. This was actually a ritual designed to manipulate the emotions of an entire crowd. What if someone used this in everyday conversation? They could talk their way out of practically anything. What kind of malice would allow a witch to do that?
I turned to Lily with excitement, eager to ask her if she had noticed what I had. I paused when I saw a single tear was trickling down her right cheek and her hands were clenched in her lap as if she was aware of the damage she might cause to the expensive chair she was in if she let that strength get the better of her in her current state.
Then I had another realization. Lily was probably having such a strong reaction because her malice of wrath made her more vulnerable to such emotional subterfuge. I could only draw that conclusion based on the fact that I had been able to break out of the musical trance probably because my malice of knowledge allowed me to see through the patterns that aren’t visible to others.
Now I felt a bit concerned for Lily. I tried to reach out to her.
“Do you really want to do that?” the woman with the veiled hat said. “She is having a surreal experience after all. Let her feel it while she can.”
I frowned deeply. That voice sounded familiar.
“I'm sure you haven't forgotten me. It hasn't been long since we last met and I do believe I make an impression on anyone who runs into me,” the woman said.
My eyes went wide when I recognized her. My heart skipped a beat.
“There you go,” the woman said, finally lifting her veil to reveal her bright violet eyes. “I always thought Noblegate was a big city. I must be wrong.” She struck me with a charming smile. “I'm glad that we only met last night so I can still identify you from the distinctness of your heartbeat.” She shrugged.
“We are literally here for just the show. We–”
“I would seem like you are,” she cut me off. “And don't worry, no one was tailing you. This is indeed just a coincidence. That doesn't mean we are going to trust you just because you asked.”
I looked at her confused. That's when the other woman got up from the chair next to the violet eyed siren and walked up to the door and locked it shut.
I set my jaw and glared at the violet eyed witch. “What is the meaning of–”
“Consider this a slight detour,” she said and leaned back in her chair. “And no you shouldn't try to wake up your friend from the trance of the song.” She pointed at the gilded panels in the ceilings. They had small glinting stones studded within them. “Those aren't just decorations. They are charms meant to receive madam Natalie's voice and make it seem like she is singing right next to you. In two minutes and forty seconds, the third verse will end and Madam will start the ending crescendo of the song. All it will take for me is one spell to cast to heighten the effect of the charm in this box. What will that do? It will puncture your friend's and your own ear drums and slow you down enough for other sirens to come and arrest you. So I hope you won't let things go that far.”
I kept glaring at her but I said, “I won't cause any trouble unless you leave me no choice.”
“Good,” she said. Then she turned to me and looked me in the eye. “That ritual you used last night to interrogate that monk of solistism, where did you learn that?”
“None of your business.”
“I thought you said you would cooperate.”
“I'm not revealing the secrets of my rituals to another witch who is obviously hostile.”
The siren paused, then grinned. There was an impressed twinkle in her eyes. “Makes sense. But you being able to perform that ritual doesn't put you in anyone's good graces either. Especially in this city. Since that mark on your hand resembles the mark I'd seen on a man who tried to poison twenty people and perform that ritual on their corpses.”
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Posted Oct 10, 2025, 2:40 PM UTC