Chapter: 110
Since I brought the young witch home, I made sure to take her along wherever I went, so she could observe people’s emotions. It seemed that the ‘witch’ race had an inherent curiosity and strange impulse towards ’emotions.’
Truth be told, my outings were limited since we mostly frequented the library or publishing houses.
“What’s the name of this child?”
“I’m looking after her temporarily due to certain circumstances at the Frieden house.”
“Hmm… She’s not Ed’s daughter, is she?”
“Of course not.”
“I thought she seemed to really look up to you, that’s why I asked.”
Isollet tilted her head, studying the young witch with a curious look on her face. It must have been quite a sight, seeing me, of all people, taking care of a child.
I could hardly blame her. If Isollet had seen me grow up, she’d probably expect less of me in that regard. After a moment of keen observation, she turned back to me with a gentle smile and casually asked, “What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
“No name at all?”
“Yep.”
Isollet looked slightly taken aback, as if she couldn’t believe what she just heard. I guessed explaining things would take a bit longer.
. . .
After listening to me, Isollet proposed a simple solution.
“If she’s curious about expressing emotions, why not head to a theater?”
“A theater?”
“They practice how to convey emotions for hours there every day!”
“Hmmm…”
That did sound reasonable.
So, I headed to the theater with the young witch in tow.
. . .
“Oh! Welcome, Author Homeros! It’s great to have you at our theater!”
“It’s been a while, Howlen.”
This was Howlen, the actor who made a name for himself with his parody play Transformation.
I heard he was now teaching drama to his juniors while acting in the theater. Apparently, after reading The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, something changed in him.
Maybe that was why.
Howlen greeted me with a bright smile, looking much more cheerful than his previously anxious and precarious self.
“I apologize; I was in the middle of teaching the kids, so could you wait just a moment?”
“Of course. I’m sorry if my sudden visit is a bother.”
“Not at all! It’s an honor for you to drop by!”
As Howlen returned to the stage to teach, I took a seat with the young witch in the audience.
The area was a small theater with about a hundred seats. Owned by the Homeros Foundation, it seemed to be rented out for the purpose of beneficial junior education.
I watched the kids on stage, and Howlen shining brightly as he taught them drama.
The young witch was gazing at the scene intently.
“…….”
“…….”
Neither of us said a word. The young witch wouldn’t speak up unless prompted, and I wasn’t one to break the silence awkwardly with small talk either.
So we stared at the stage like quiet spectators. With the audience mostly empty, it felt almost like we were holding a private showing.
Especially since the performer was Howlen, who was currently one of the most famous in the business—it felt quite extravagant.
And thus, that lavish silence wafted through the auditorium.
Amidst that silence, I found myself thinking.
‘Maybe I should’ve brought a novel or something…’
. . .
Fortunately, Howlen’s lesson wrapped up fairly quickly.
After I explained my reason for coming, Howlen nodded and focused on the young witch.
“So, you want me to teach this child about ‘emotions,’ correct?”
“Yes. If that sounds burdensome, feel free to suggest another actor who’s available.”
“Burden? Absolutely not! If it’s a request from Author Homeros, I’d drop everything to make time for it!”
“It’s not that important—”
“I’ll teach her as if she were my own apprentice!”
Before I could say another word, Howlen knelt down, meeting the young witch at her eye level.
“You want to learn how to express emotions, right?”
“Yeah… I want to learn… and observe… emotions…”
“Alright!”
Howlen clapped his hands and raised his voice with excitement.
“Then, how about you come up on stage?”
And thus began Howlen’s drama lessons.
. . .
[“Dying is going to be one thrilling adventure!”]
. . .
Howlen meticulously taught her about ‘emotions.’
He didn’t just show her the expressions associated with different feelings—he explained methods to interpret characters and situations, how to express subtext through acting, and how to depict emotional exchanges through eye contact and body language.
In many ways, Howlen was conveying a complete understanding of ’emotion’—something that a witch truly needed—using an extraordinary approach.
This analytical mode of teaching was undoubtedly a product of his previous struggles with talent. Due to his lack of innate acting ability, Howlen had to read scripts far more than anyone else, analyze characters deeply, and reflect critically on his performances.
Where his soul might fall short, he made up for with keen physical expression and precise articulation.
However, it turned out that the young witch, despite her apparent immaturity, had an inherent talent that matched these high standards.
The ability of a ‘Witch’ to charm and lure in others.
The gift of creating the most innocent gingerbread house, even from a cold and detached soul.
That was what she possessed!
“How could this child… be a genius.”
Howlen declared it as a talent for acting.
The young witch was absorbing all that Howlen had to impart!
“I need to teach her more! No, I must! With this child’s talent, she could surely become a more amazing actress than I—”
“Uh, Howlen?”
“Oh! Ah, I’m sorry, sorry! I got a little carried away!”
Howlen’s face was flushed, and excitement sparkled in his eyes. His hands were trembling, indicating this wasn’t just mere excitement.
As a non-actor, I couldn’t fully understand that feeling.
Perhaps it felt like having discovered a very engaging author whose style precisely matched your own tastes. That’s all I could guess.
“Hmmm… Well, I’m just looking after her. She asked to know about emotions, which is why I brought her here…”
I momentarily pondered, then turned to the young witch and asked.
“Do you want to learn more about acting?”
At my question, the young witch silently pondered for a moment, her unfocused gaze contemplating.
Before long, she nodded slightly and answered.
“Yeah…”
. . .
[“Tinkerbell was not entirely bad. No, she was completely bad at the moment, but she was also really nice at times.”]
[“Fairies have to be either fully bad or wholly good. Due to their small size, they can only contain one emotion at a time. While fairies can change, they must completely transform.”]
. . .
Slowly, the young witch began to ‘learn’ about emotions from Howlen.
She observed how a person steeped in sorrow might burst into tears in a decisive moment, how a gentle person might smile warmly at a beautiful view, how a person’s expression might contort at the sight of a grotesque bug, and how a talkative person might laugh uproariously to break an awkward silence.
The theater was teaching the young witch numerous situations and a multitude of characters.
While some might be overly dramatic or exaggerated, they were indeed clear enough to serve as excellent learning materials for the young witch. Bit by bit, she was starting to grasp what ‘emotion’ truly meant.
“Did you learn well from Howlen today?”
“Yes, Uncle! Hehe, it was so much fun!”
“Uncle, huh… Well, I guess it’s fine.”
As she applied what she learned about emotions to her everyday life, she transformed her behaviors and speech into a grand theater performance.
Like how she would cheerfully hug Ed, her guardian.
It was somewhat indistinguishable from the behavior of an algorithmic AI robot moving according to commands, devoid of any underlying emotions.
Originally, witches were supposed to derive warmth from coldness.
Thanks to the amazing teacher Howlen, the young witch was slowly becoming more social. She could now play with the other children learning drama alongside her and even ‘act’ a level of caution toward strangers she met for the first time.
However…
No matter how much the young witch learned about ‘emotions,’ there was still one person she could never quite understand.
“I’ve made a play script as a gift for Howlen, would you deliver it for me?”
“Yes!”
Homeros. Ed Frieden. Her guardian, who went by many names.
The young witch found it utterly impossible to comprehend him.
The moment she handed him the manuscript, he immediately returned to his book…
“……”
“……”
Much like the witch herself.
He appeared to move strict only on principles.
“Hmm? Do you have more to say?”
“…No!”
Her guardian never softened in front of her, didn’t warm up in front of family, didn’t boast in front of women, nor did he lighten up in front of friends.
“Aah, I didn’t explain what the script is about.”
The only thing that guided him was one matter alone.
“This script is called ‘Peter Pan.’”
Literature.
“It’s a fairy tale about a child who never grows up. Neverland, fairies… Tinkerbell and Captain Hook…”
In an instant, even the witch herself felt a chill as her guardian wore an exceptionally gentle and warm smile.
With a calm and soft voice, he began explaining the script.
“It’s a story about a remarkably captivating world, so I believe you’d like it very much.”
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