Chapter 6: Magic Robe

“Let me see what I need to buy.”

As soon as Alice stepped into the massive mall, she pulled out a checklist from her bag.

This was the procurement list sent with the acceptance letter from the Witch Academy, listing all essential items students must prepare before the term begins.

“First up, the usual trio: uniform, wand, spellbook. I already have an old uniform—sister, you could... never mind, let’s just buy new ones.”

The little witch, who had initially thought her sister could wear her old uniform, looked up at her sister and fell silent, then quickly led the way ahead.

Even by the most critical standards, Alice was undeniably a true beauty: golden hair tied into twin pigtails like sunlight, eyes as pure and sparkling as emeralds, a delicate face with just a hint of baby fat, and especially the tiny fang revealed in her smile—utterly devastating.

But the little witch was still young, only thirteen, and witches developed no differently from humans—there was no point expecting any figure at this age. Polite terms called her slender and petite, charmingly small; blunt ones said she was flat in front, flat in back, short in stature, a tiny steel bean. Ridiculous.

The little witch, barely one meter three tall, glared enviously at her sister beside her and clicked her tongue.

“Heh, being well-endowed is so impressive, looks downright lewd.”

Though the child’s voice was soft, Dorothy’s ears were sharp—she clearly heard her sister’s grumbling and found it amusing.

She wanted to say something kind to comfort her sulking sister, but the moment she opened her mouth, the image of her beloved stepmother flashed in her mind.

Hmm, whenever her stepmother walked arm-in-arm with her father, passersby always mistook him for a pervert. It was just... painful.

Sigh, she only hoped Alice inherited more of her paternal witch mother’s genes—otherwise, her life might be a struggle.

Though Dorothy had never met Alice’s paternal witch mother, she’d heard she was a tall, stunningly proportioned witch, the complete opposite of their beloved stepmother. Their divorce had partly stemmed from body type differences.

As for Dorothy herself, this body could only be described as a divine gift—perfectly aligned with her past life’s deepest preferences.

One seventy-five centimeters tall, with curves front and back, long legs, every inch of flesh perfectly placed—no one could find a single flaw. A dreamlike figure.

But beauty aside, having such a body as one’s own brought hidden troubles no outsider knew. Dorothy herself could never grow accustomed to the constant wobble with every step, the unending tremble—so since puberty, she’d mastered the art of expertly wrapping herself in bandages, otherwise movement would’ve been a nightmare.

In short, she couldn’t wear Alice’s old uniform. She could, technically, but it would make her look less like a proper student and more like some ragged girl working in a pink room at dusk. Better not.

So, first stop: the clothing store.

Following Alice, who knew the place well, the sisters soon arrived at “Miss Mary’s Sewing Nook,” a specialty shop for magical robes. The owner, Miss Mary, was also a witch—gentle-faced, radiating a wife-like aura.

“What kind of garments are you ladies looking for? May I help you choose?”

The moment Miss Mary saw Dorothy and Alice, her eyes lit up—like a little girl who’d just found her favorite doll, eager to dress it in new clothes.

Unfortunately, Dorothy completely ignored Miss Mary’s enthusiasm. Her behavior still reflected the straight-male efficiency of her past life—she disliked aimlessly browsing clothes like a girl. She always made a list before leaving home, went straight to the target item in the store, grabbed it, and left—efficiency above all.

Since she was here to buy a uniform, she only needed the uniform. No need to look at anything else.

So even though Alice beside her wore an expression full of desire to see her sister try on every dress, Dorothy ignored the little pervert of a sister and turned directly to Miss Mary.

“I need two standard Witch Academy uniforms. Apply high-grade enchantments: Protective Ward, Temperature Stabilization, Perpetual Cleanliness, Self-Repair. Choose Pattern Five for the pocket structure. Use these measurements for sizing.”

Dorothy handed her body measurements and clothing specifications to Miss Mary.

Witch robes weren’t like mortal clothes, meant only for warmth, modesty, or decoration—they were magical items, often carrying multiple functions.

For example, a Protective Ward granted armor-like defense; the pockets contained spatial expansion, though smaller than professional backpacks, they offered quick access—effectively functioning like a game’s quick-item slot.

The data Dorothy had just given was her preferred setup for a witch robe. She added one final question.

“How long until they’re ready? Classes start tomorrow.”

“Hmm, usually by evening... Wait? Ah! Right, miss, one hour. Go browse elsewhere—come back in one hour to collect.”

Miss Mary had instinctively given the standard reply, but when her eyes fell on the paper she’d just received, they widened in shock. She stared at the witch before her—swathed head to toe, face hidden—and couldn’t believe those measurements were real.

By the magic above, she’d run this shop for over a hundred years and had never seen such explosive, perfect data. Did such a dreamlike figure truly exist in reality?

In that moment, Miss Mary felt divinely inspired—her long-dormant passion for sewing ignited.

Dorothy, however, was surprised the tailor could finish so fast—but speed was good, and she had no objections. She promptly paid the deposit and dragged Alice, who was still gazing wistfully at the other pretty dresses, out the door.

“Hehe, sister, I think Miss Mary just fell for you. Her eyes were practically devouring you. You should stay away from these bad women.”

As soon as they stepped out of the clothing store, Alice whispered this to Dorothy.

Dorothy: “......”

I think you’re the dangerous one, kid.

She mentally sighed—she had no desire to comment further on witches’ preference for their own kind.

After all these years, she’d just gotten used to it.

“Alright, where to next?”

She affectionately pinched her sister’s baby-cheeked face, changing the subject.

“Let’s go to the wand shop. Your wand’s still the beginner set you got with your broom when you were little—it’s long overdue. Let’s get a brand-new smart wand this time.”

Alice thought for a moment, then pulled Dorothy toward the mall’s second floor, stopping finally at a shop entrance.

“Ruby and Sapphire”

Dorothy looked up at the name of the wand shop.

The name wasn’t stupid at all.

She thought so, but still followed Alice inside.