Looking at the elegant yet unfamiliar lady before him, Ian felt an unavoidable sense of nervousness.
Although he possessed the talent to enter the Limbo Environment, he had only encountered two people in this world.
The lady before him was the third.
This was the world of the dead.
Who knew what kind of identity or past this woman possessed?
"Who are you?" Ian quietly prepared to bolt.
Faced with Ian's inquiry, the young woman raised her eyebrows slightly.
"That poor girl, along with your wanderer friend, has gone to search for the laughable Golden Apple. How could such a place have a Golden Apple?" Her words were tinged with sarcasm.
Wanderer friend?
Ian quickly realized that the mysterious young woman must be referring to another friend of his—a wandering spirit, just like Ariana.
Pandero Natge.
An ordinary name for a young man filled with an unrelenting passion for adventure, which was probably why the woman before him called him a "wanderer."
Even in the Limbo Environment, Pandero tirelessly explored this world for years upon years. In his own words, he had lost track of time.
Despite having lived for at least a thousand years, his face miraculously remained that of a fifteen-year-old. Perhaps that was one of the mysteries of the Limbo Environment. According to Ariana, when she first met him, Pandero already had that youthful appearance.
Ian wondered if Pandero had somehow offended this mysterious young woman.
Did they have a history?
What kind of relationship did they share?
Ian couldn't suppress his curiosity.
His understanding of Pandero was limited—he saw him as someone with the wisdom of an elder and the spirit of a youth.
Occasionally, he was also a bit silly.
It seemed unlikely that he was a character from the original story. Whether from history or Ian's knowledge of the original work, he had never heard of this name.
What kind of obsession allowed Pandero to linger in the Limbo Environment for so many years?
As for adventure missions like "searching for the Golden Apple," that was exactly the sort of thing Pandero would do. It was also in his nature to drag Ariana along as a partner.
Ian recalled a time when Pandero had once grabbed a five-year-old version of himself, enthusiastically declaring they were going to hunt down the despicable Herpo—the most notorious dark wizard in history.
Me?
Five years old?
Take down Herpo?
Ian still found it utterly absurd whenever he thought about it.
"Is this Golden Apple the same one from the fairy tales I know?" Looking at the elegant young woman in a black dress, Ian tried to keep his tone as humble as possible while attempting to use his youth to appear innocent.
"A flashy but insubstantial thing. Do you expect a Golden Apple tree to bloom in this world?" The noblewoman's voice dripped with mockery as she looked at Ian as if he were an idiot.
"The last apple tree was cut down long before I died, let alone the fact that the Limbo Environment could never grow a Golden Apple," she stated with certainty.
"Are there Golden Apples in the real world?" Ian was taken aback.
At that moment, the mysterious young woman turned her head, stepping closer. Her exquisite face neared his, and the scent of roses drifted toward him.
Ian instinctively took a step back.
The woman was simply too overwhelming, from her aura to her presence.
"What do you think fairy tales are? And what about wizards?"
Ian was left speechless by her question.
Seeing his reaction, the young woman suddenly smiled.
"You may be a fool—dull as a pig—but you are different." She raised a fair finger and pointed toward the distant mountains, where a faintly visible castle stood amidst the trees.
"If you want to learn magic, come find me there."
Ian followed her gaze and saw the castle, its exterior weathered by time, ancient and ominous. Realization struck him.
So this was the witch from the castle Ariana often spoke of!
Of course.
The impulse to run away wasn't cowardice—it was pure wizard instinct!
Yes! That had to be it… A natural danger-sensing ability for powerful wizards!
"What do I have to give in return?" Ian asked cautiously. He knew there was no such thing as a free lunch.
The witch looked at him with mild surprise and slowly circled him, her black robes trailing over the muddy ground—but they remained unstained.
"It seems you don't realize how special you are..." she mused, chuckling softly.
Then, in an instant, her expression changed.
"Still, the fact that you understand the rules of the wizarding world at such a young age proves you are only temporarily dull. That is not necessarily a bad thing in the real world."
The witch stopped and locked eyes with him.
"If you truly wish to follow the principle of equivalent exchange, then bring my magic mirror back to me."
For a brief moment, Ian saw a trace of nostalgia flicker in her beautiful eyes. But just as quickly, her tone turned indifferent once more, and that fleeting emotion vanished without a trace.
"Find my mirror, bring it to me... and you will learn the most powerful magic from me."
"Mirror?" Ian frowned in confusion.
The witch did not respond. Instead, she smiled meaningfully.
"Actually, even if you don't find the mirror, you may still come to study under me," she added mysteriously. "After all, I enjoy playing with little boys."
Slightly unsettling words.
Before Ian could react, he felt his time running out. His last vision was of the elegant and enigmatic witch, watching quietly as he gradually faded into nothingness.
With their conversation over, the town fell silent once more.
The witch's expression turned lonely as she stepped onto the cobblestone path, her high heels clicking against the stones as she disappeared into the quiet forest, heading back to her castle.
The castle stood in a clearing, its walls entwined with vines, weathered with time. The sharp spires pierced the gloomy sky.
The atmosphere was completely opposite to that of the town.
Heavy, foreboding.
Yet, pushing open the heavy doors revealed an entirely different world—an opulent hall, a carved marble table draped in crimson silk, golden-rimmed tableware meticulously arranged, and a roaring fire casting flickering shadows on the intricate murals.
The knight and princess in the paintings seemed to come to life within the flames.
The witch moved with effortless grace, and the moment she stepped inside, the castle responded.
Candles ignited one by one, tablecloths floated into place, and plates and silverware arranged themselves neatly. From the kitchen, food levitated onto the table—among them, a golden, glistening roast suckling pig.
The witch glanced at it and whispered, "I've already seen a stupid pig today. I don't need another."
With a wave of her hand, the pig vanished, replaced moments later by a roasted lamb.
Her attire shimmered with unseen magic, cleaning itself instantly. Without touching the meal, she made her way to her bedroom.
"Magic mirror, magic mirror, who is the most beautiful woman in this world..." she murmured, her voice tinged with self-deprecation and something more—something lost.
Before her stood a dressing table.
Lacking a mirror.