Chapter 717: The Bad Woman

Dorothy was trembling with rage, feeling she had been teased and emotionally toyed with by a bad woman.

She had even felt a pang of sadness when Sophie Sophie Liya left; for a Family Hero, nothing hurt more than parting from family, yet she would never let her own reluctance stand in the way of the Pure White Witch fulfilling her mission and dreams.

What's that saying again?

Hmm, there's a kind of love called letting go.

I finally mustered the strength to let go, and this is what you give me?

The Home Witch felt all her earlier sorrow had been fed to dogs; she clenched her fists, trembling, and though the constant-temperature magic array in the witch house kept the island at the most comfortable temperature, she still felt icy cold all over.

Forget it, I've forgotten the rest of the lines—anyway, bad woman, die.

"First, take a bath."

Dorothy turned her head, refusing to acknowledge the bad woman, and spoke to the other silver-haired maid beside her.

"Yes, Mistress, I'll prepare your bathing supplies right away."

The perfect maid, Zero, nodded, responding in that manner.

Well, Miss Zero still hadn't learned human expressions; her face, modeled after the Home Witch's beauty and bearing six or seven percent resemblance to Dorothy, remained utterly expressionless—but the mechanical dog at her side, with a screen for a head, expertly displayed an emoji.

"Welcome home, Mistress! Confetti cannon. jpg"

With that, the flawless, elegant mechanical maid departed—her steps precise and graceful, each stride identical in length and speed; even if you measured with a stopwatch and ruler, you'd find zero deviation—a perfection humans could never achieve.

"Ugh, what weird skill pack did Zero download this time?"

Watching the mechanical maid stride away like a supermodel, Dorothy couldn't help but feel speechless.

But whatever—her swaying hips really did look good.

Nice job, Zero—you get me. Do more.

The Home Witch silently gave her familiar a thumbs-up in her mind, then walked toward the hot spring nearby.

Hmm, nothing heals better than returning home after months of exhaustion, soaking in a hot spring, and staring blankly into the water.

As for that bad woman…

Hmph, don't know her, didn't see her, don't recognize her.

Just

Naked and comfortably seated by the hot spring, the Home Witch had a small wooden basin floating before her, holding a few snacks and a flask of fine wine; she sipped from a tiny cup now and then—perfectly delightful.

Meanwhile, Zero, wrapped only in a bathrobe, knelt beside the pool, massaging her shoulders; the mechanical maid's pressure was just right—not too light, not too heavy—clearly, she'd downloaded a specialized skill pack of an expert masseur's techniques.

"Mistress, are you playing a lazy-play game? It's nice, sure, but if you go too far, I'll get angry."

A witch suddenly surfaced from the hot spring, her waist-length wet hair cascading over her face like a Sadako; she hugged her chest, squirming awkwardly as she spoke.

"Heh…"

Dorothy let out a cold laugh, grabbed a salted peanut, and chewed it hard.

Seeing this had no effect, the black-haired witch sighed, pushed back her hair, revealing her refined, coldly beautiful face, then shamelessly leaned close to the Home Witch.

Even when Dorothy deliberately shifted away, the woman clung like a stubborn adhesive patch.

Stick, stick all you want—stick hard.

"Can't you act normal? You're the same person—how can you be so different?"

Frustrated beyond endurance, Dorothy glared at the fallen angel.

If this were her roommate, the Pure White Witch would never act so undignified—she had a thinner skin than Dorothy herself, never so brazen.

"Then, Mistress, do you really hate me?"

The Pure Black Angel pressed herself tightly against Dorothy's back; Dorothy could even feel the warm breath brushing her ear.

Damn, it's hard—it's really hard. My fist is hard.

Mom said bad women always play with people's feelings—watch me punch one bad woman after another.

But… could I really hate her?

Well, of course not—though Lucifel was a bit vile in personality, she and Sophie Sophie Liya were fundamentally the same person, two sides of one soul.

How could a Family Hero truly hate her own family? Dorothy simply wasn't good at dealing with bad women like this.

Dorothy's ears turned bright red, then suddenly she launched herself upward like a spring, leaping several feet high, covering her ears, and staring at the grinning fallen angel like a startled, bristling cat.

"You're a pervert—why are you biting?"

"Then, Mistress, would you like to bite back? I'm fine with it—anywhere you want."

Lucifel lifted her head proudly, chest out, saying this with complete openness.

Dorothy: "."

Wow, when you lose your shame, you become invincible.

"Please, Mistress, forgive me just this once—I promise it won't happen again."

The fallen angel blinked innocently, then spoke in a pitiful tone, stepping closer as if to say: if you refuse, I'll stick to you all day.

Dorothy had never seen anything like this in both her lifetimes—she instantly felt under siege.

"Stop! Stand still! Don't come any closer!"

She shouted.

Lucifel obediently froze in place, but her golden eyes never left Dorothy, filled with heartbreakingly pleading looks.

"And I didn't mean to—it's not my fault! Mistress, blame the original! She told me to wait here for you, and she's truly cruel—you don't know, she already summoned the Apocalypse Fleet the moment she left East Japan Island. She'd already planned to leave you."

The fallen angel even turned on her own original self, self-exposing like this.

Dorothy: "."

This maneuver left the Home Witch speechless.

"Actually, I knew already—I saw long ago that Sophie Sophie Liya was determined to leave."

She sighed, then said this.

"Huh?"

Now it was Lucifel's turn to be stunned.

Wait, you could tell that?

Dorothy sat down again on the opposite side of the hot spring, still warily watching the bad woman, then spoke again.

"I'm not blind—Sophie Sophie Liya is far more likable than you, bad thing. She can't hide her emotions, and I know she's just that kind of stubborn, ambitious person."

The Home Witch said this.

From their very first meeting, Dorothy had already recognized the Pure White Witch as ambitious and competitive—otherwise, they'd never have clashed so badly at the start.

You can't expect a driven, striving career woman to get along with a lazy fish who just wants to eat and sleep.

One was a great roc destined to soar to the heavens; the other, a salted fish drying on the shore. Had it not been for Long Ma's forced arrangement, they might never have crossed paths in this lifetime.

But fate is always strange, unpredictable—yet somehow, they became entangled, tighter and tighter, until now, inseparable.

"If you knew, why did you let her go?"

This time, Lucifel didn't move closer; she crouched down, submerged in the pool, head only above water, idly blowing bubbles while glaring at the Mistress with exasperation.

"My naive Mistress, do you even understand women's hearts? If you'd just said one word to stop her, the original would never have left."

She wore the expression of a shipper driven mad—like she wanted to grab both of them and force them into a tight hug.

"I understand—but it's pointless."

Dorothy nodded again.

"You—"

Lucifel's eyes widened—this time, she was genuinely frantic.

What kind of person is this? It's driving me crazy—you know everything but say nothing, just to tease us?

She opened her mouth to yell, but the Home Witch cut in first.

"The Sophie Sophie Liya I know and admire is the one who's always ambitious, always striving to do her best. From the moment I first saw her, I saw in my inspiration her seated upon the Wang Zuo of Heaven—and from then on, I knew she'd become the Angel King."

"That's her ambition, her life plan—what's wrong with walking the path toward one's dream?"

"Those who hold ideals and act to realize them are always the most captivating—I love that Sophie Sophie Liya."

A glimmer of memory flashed in Dorothy's eyes—she recalled their first meeting, both reaching for the same book, gazing at each other through the gap between the shelves.

Even now, she remembered that moment's stunning brilliance.

"So what's there to stop? She was always meant to be a sovereign of the heavens—should I, because of my reluctance, break her wings and chain her beside me like a caged bird?"

The Home Witch smiled as she looked at the fallen angel across from her.

Lucifel, who had always worn a teasing, seductive smirk, fell silent—head bowed, expressionless, now nearly identical to Sophie Sophie Liya except for her hair color.

Or rather—this was the true face of the fallen angel demon who, on another timeline, had nearly become the King of Hell.

Yet now, this once-proud demon seemed to be turning into the demon of envy.

Sour. So sour. Extremely sour.

Damn it, I'm so envious, so jealous—why didn't I ever meet my own Mistress?

Lucifel crushed lemons fiercely in her heart.

Is this why she's the incarnation, and the original is the original?

"Hmph, sounds nice—but you still parted. Mistress, people change—you better watch out. When the original finally ascends to heaven, she'll just dump you."

She once again viciously blackmailed her own original self.

"That's impossible—this one thing absolutely won't happen. Though our dreams differ, we are true kindred spirits—we both only want a home. So, we will meet again."

"All partings are merely to welcome the next reunion—even a soaring eagle must land to rest. Besides, we're witches—immortal witches. We have endless time ahead to wait."

Dorothy wasn't provoked by the jealous, lemon-crushing fallen angel; she poured herself another cup of wine, raising it high toward the bright moon.

"May we live long, sharing the same moonlight, though miles apart."

Perhaps she was truly a bit drunk—this woman who usually hated awkward moments had unexpectedly become poetic, saying something offhand before draining her cup.

Lucifer: "."

The fallen angel witch also looked up at the full moon, vast as a silver plate, and fell even quieter.

My dear mistress, haven't you forgotten that no matter how much of a personality your avatar has, it's still just an avatar? I may act like Lucifer, but I'm fundamentally still Sophilia.

She too looked up at the full moon, vast as a silver plate.

The moonlight flowed like water, pure and bright.

Beneath that moonlight, upon the throne of the massive fleet racing toward the front lines, the normally calm white witch suddenly blushed crimson, steam rising from her ears.

Her previously tangled heart now had no more obstacles.

Hmm, indeed, leaving Lucifer—the brave version of myself—at home was a wise choice.

The next day, Dorothy woke up groggily from bed, rubbed her eyes, and glanced around in confusion.

Hmm, it was the familiar ceiling—this was definitely my room.

Thinking this, she lay back down, ready to nap a little longer; after all, it was summer vacation—no classes to attend.

Just as she hugged her beloved angel plush blanket, tucking it between her legs, rolling onto her side to adjust her posture, she locked eyes with someone—staring straight into their gaze.

House Witch: "????"

What's going on? Did I not wake up properly? Why is there someone beside my pillow?

Dorothy was full of question marks.

"Good morning, mistress. You were amazing last night."

As the House Witch frantically searched her memory palace, wondering if she'd missed some crucial plot point, the black-haired beauty blinked and spoke those words.

House Witch: "????"

Damn it, what exactly did I miss?

She looked down at her clothes.

Hmm, it was definitely her beloved plush dragon pajamas.

Then she yanked back the covers and looked at the person beside her—only to see that the witch's hat was neatly worn on their head.

Tsk, damn it, I've been fooled again by this wicked woman.

For a moment, Dorothy didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

"Hahaha, mistress, disappointed? Maybe next time I'll come in pajamas?"

The cunning fallen angel smiled with great delight.

"Get out of here."

A beautiful new day began with the House Witch's shout.

Dorothy shouted.

So who, really, is being toyed with by whom?

(End of Chapter)