Chapter 19: Witch! Teacher!

Ian's sudden arrival shattered the serene atmosphere of the grand hall.

A moment ago, the room had been alive with opulence—an elaborate table adorned with silverware and fine porcelain, plates filled with sumptuous food, and a grand chandelier casting warm golden light from above. But the instant Ian appeared, it all vanished.

Not just the table and the dishes—the entire feast had been wiped from existence. Even the knife and fork the woman had been holding sprouted delicate wings and flitted away like startled birds.

A tense silence settled over the chamber.

Ian swallowed, suddenly aware of how much he had just disrupted.

"Uh… S-Sorry."

His voice came out uncertain, uncertain if he had just broken some unspoken rule of this place, uncertain of how the woman would react.

And then he recognized her.

She was the same mysterious woman who had approached him in the village, draped in the same flowing black gown that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. There was something ethereal about her presence, something that made her seem less like a person and more like a shadow given form—a presence woven from the quiet hush of midnight.

Her deep, intelligent eyes studied him, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

"An unexpected entrance," she murmured, her voice smooth and measured. "But since I was the one who extended an invitation, I suppose I can forgive the lack of grace."

With a casual flick of her wrist, a napkin materialized between her fingers, and she dabbed it lightly at the corners of her mouth. The motion was effortless, practiced. Every movement she made carried the refined poise of old nobility—not as a learned behavior, but as something deeply ingrained in her very being.

Ian felt as though he had stumbled into the presence of someone far beyond his comprehension.

"I… I didn't mean to intrude," Ian said, still struggling to fully grasp what had happened.

The truth was, he hadn't even intended to come here. He had merely been trying to check if his friends had returned, not respond to her invitation. And yet, here he was. The words he wanted to say died in his throat—telling her outright that he hadn't planned to meet her felt far too impolite.

The woman chuckled softly, a low and knowing sound.

"The souls within the Ethereal Realm do not need food," she said. "Old habits linger, but meals bring no true pleasure anymore."

Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down Ian's spine.

If food didn't bring her enjoyment… then what did?

…Toying with young men?

Her gaze lingered on him, not quite piercing, but enough to make his skin prickle. There was something about the way she studied him, as if peeling away the layers of his mind with nothing more than her eyes. He felt his posture stiffen under her scrutiny.

Then, mercifully, she spoke again.

"It seems you've begun your pursuit of magic."

The statement was made with absolute certainty.

Ian hesitated.

How did she know that? He hadn't brought his wand into this world. He had made no mention of studying magic. And yet, she spoke as if she had witnessed it herself.

"Yes… ma'am," he replied, his voice careful.

It wasn't just her presence that unnerved him—it was the way she looked at him. Those unfathomable eyes reminded him of Dumbledore's, but without the warmth, without the quiet reassurance. Instead, they were simply deep, like staring into the abyss.

He had a feeling that lying to her would be a mistake.

A gut instinct.

A warning from his Mind Perception.

Unlike with most people, he couldn't sense her emotions at all. It was like staring into a void. The only thing his ability told him was that deception would not serve him here.

And sure enough, when he answered honestly, her lips curled ever so slightly in approval.

"You should call me… Teacher."

Ian blinked.

Was she mistaken, or was this deliberate?

There was a weight to her words, an insistence that left no room for argument.

"I… I…"

He struggled for a response before settling on the truth.

"I have no idea why I suddenly appeared here."

He took a breath, trying to steady himself.

"Every other time I've entered this place, I always wake up in the same spot—the grassy field outside the village."

There was no use hiding the fact that he was alive. Ariana and Pandero had figured it out the moment they saw him. The witch before him, undoubtedly, already knew as well.

"And?"

Her gaze did not waver.

Ian hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

"I have considered learning magic from you," he admitted. "But I haven't made a decision yet. I only came back to see if my friends had returned."

He tried to keep his expression as open and honest as possible. The truth was, he had no idea what kind of magic this woman practiced. And since he only knew a handful of spells, he wasn't exactly in a position to act confident.

"They haven't returned," the witch said, shifting slightly in her seat. One elbow rested on the chair's armrest, her hand cupping her cheek in thought. With her free hand, she idly tapped her fingers against the opposite armrest.

"It has only been three days since you last left."

Then, in a languid voice, she added,

"The Ethereal Realm is an unusual place. It responds to the deepest desires and fixations within one's heart. That is why your arrival point has changed."

She was explaining things to him.

But—

"Uh… sorry, I still don't get it."

Ian furrowed his brows.

The witch raised an eyebrow.

"You really are a slow little pig."

There was something both amused and exasperated in her tone. "I never imagined I'd end up with such a dull-witted apprentice."

She wasn't as openly mocking as Snape, but there was an unmistakable arrogance in her words. She spoke with the ease of someone accustomed to being superior—without outright condescension, yet making it clear that she was above others.

Ian knew how to handle people like that. Snape had been an excellent case study.

"Should I just leave, then?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw it—the way her expression stiffened, the way the corner of her eye twitched ever so slightly.

Exactly like Snape.

The witch exhaled slowly and shook her head.

"You're a slippery one, aren't you?"

Despite her words, there was a trace of amusement in her gaze now.

"In the past, you longed for friendship. Now, you long for magic."

Ian fell silent, contemplating her words.

Looking at his current circumstances, he supposed she wasn't entirely wrong. But why did that longing bring him here?

As if answering his unspoken question, the witch murmured,

"Because deep down, you know I can teach you true power—the knowledge your school refuses to share. The kind that will let you survive the dangers ahead."

Ian's breath hitched.

He hadn't said a word about that.

"…Can you read minds?" he asked warily.

For the first time, he felt a strange sense of sympathy for Snape.

Was this karma?

The witch chuckled, a rare spark of amusement lighting her eyes.

"Mind-reading isn't a difficult spell," she admitted. "But in the Ethereal Realm, I no longer possess the power I wielded in life. My magic, too, has faded."

She leaned back, smiling.

"I'm simply observant."

Ian wasn't sure whether that was more or less terrifying.