Zayn hadn’t expected to run into her again — the witch.
The first ti they t, it had been in the middle of chaos.
He barely had ti to focus on her, let alone take in details.
Now, under the dimming afternoon light, the marketplace bustling behind them, he had no choice but to acknowledge her.
She was stunning.
Like others of her kind in this world, her skin was a rich erald green, smooth and vibrant under the soft glow of the lanterns being lit in the market stalls.
Her golden eyes shimred like molten tal, reflecting the flickering lights around them.
They were slanted and sharp, like a predator watching its prey, studying his every move with quiet amusent.
Her lips, a darker shade of green, curled into a knowing smirk.
And her figure...
Zayn swallowed, his grip tightening on the bag under his arm.
She was dangerous.
Her body wasn’t just alluring — it was the kind that demanded attention.
Her waist was slender, her hips full, and while her chest wasn’t quite as large as Elisse’s, it was still enough to leave an impression.
She moved like a shadow, effortless and fluid, the loose black robes she wore barely concealing the curves beneath.
Strangely enough, she was barefoot. Her dark-painted nails stood out against the stone pavent, and it made her seem even more in tune with her surroundings.
She stepped forward.
Zayn took a step back.
Her smirk widened, as if she enjoyed watching him react. Like she had been expecting it.
"The little brand I placed on you is gone," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "Did you do sothing to it?"
Her voice was smooth, like velvet brushing against bare skin.
It sent an involuntary chill up his spine, not from fear, but from sothing else entirely — sothing he refused to acknowledge.
Zayn stiffened.
So that’s why she was here.
He had the System dispel the brand before, he didn’t know the uses of it but soone branding you couldn’t an anything good.
He tightened his grip on the bag under his arm, keeping his expression neutral. "Don’t know what you’re talking about," he said coolly.
Her smirk didn’t waver, but sothing in her deanor shifted.
Before, she had seed playful — like a cat toying with a mouse. But now... there was sothing else in her expression.
Sothing dominant.
Zayn felt an invisible weight press down on him. It wasn’t magic — at least, not directly. It was sothing more subtle.
The sheer presence she carried, the way she held herself, the way she watched him without blinking, the kind of presence that subconsciously made you uncomfortable.
He took a deep breath and did sothing she didn’t expect.
He moved.
One second, he was standing in front of her. The next, he was gone.
A blur of motion. A whisper of air.
By the ti her eyes flickered upward, he was already halfway down the alleyway, his retreating figure lting into the shadows.
The witch exhaled through her nose, an amused chuckle escaping her lips.
"Interesting," she murmured, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.
She didn’t chase after him.
Not now.
Zayn kept running.
The alley stretched too long, the walls on either side endless, like sothing out of a nightmare.
His boots barely made a sound against the cobblestone, but his instincts scread at him — this wasn’t right.
His breath ca steady, but there was a sharp edge to it, tension coiling in his chest like a wound-up spring.
He should have reached the streets by now. Should have been out, blending into the marketplace crowds.
Instead, it felt like he was running in place, the scenery unchanged, stretching beyond what should be possible.
Then —
He skidded to a halt.
A shadow lood above.
Hovering just ahead, perched effortlessly on a sleek, dark broom, was her.
The Witch Princess.
She floated midair, her long hair catching the dim light as she tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming with amusent.
’Focus, dumbass.’
She smirked, resting her chin against her palm, elbow propped lazily on the handle of her broom.
"You didn’t think you could actually get away, did you?"
Zayn sighed.
Yeah. He was screwed.
The mont the System ntioned her na, he knew he should have avoided this encounter altogether.
In the original novel, this quest was ant for the main party — the Hero of Light and his companions.
They were the ones who got tangled up in the Witch Princess’s problems, the ones who helped her with whatever cryptic mission she had, and in the end, they received the Witch Grimoire — a relic that vastly increased magic power.
It was a ga-breaking item.
But only for mages.
Zayn?
Zayn wasn’t one.
Which ant he had zero reasons to be here.
And yet —
Here he was.
Fumbling his way straight into sothing that shouldn’t even be his problem.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his blond hair. "I’m in so kind of illusion, aren’t I?"
The Witch Princess’s smirk widened, her golden eyes gleaming with wicked amusent.
Without waiting for her response, Zayn dropped the bag he’d been carrying. The armor he just bought. His newly acquired dagger.
Then —
They moved.
His pulse jumped.
The armor twisted unnaturally, its shape warping and contorting, shifting in ways that tal never should.
His dagger did the sa, elongating, its edges curling and rippling like a living thing.
Then they slithered.
Two long, dark snakes coiled at his feet where his belongings had been.
Zayn stared, his mind working through the implications.
So that’s why the alley felt off.
Nothing here was real.
The Witch Princess let out a soft chuckle, her voice low and dangerously smooth.
"You’re smart," she murmured, floating closer, her broom hovering just inches from his face. He could feel the heat of her breath, see the slight part of her lips as she teased him with proximity.
"I like that."
Zayn clenched his jaw.
Her presence was overwhelming, her magic pressing against his skin like a slow-burning fire.
Her fingers brushed his cheek — just a whisper of contact — but the power in that single touch sent a shiver down his spine.
He refused to flinch.
She tilted her head, amused. "Are you ready to talk now?"
Zayn exhaled slowly.
Did he even have a choice?
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