Miss Witch Doesn't Want to Become a Songstress-Chapter 262

Mr. Edmond appeared at first glance to be a well-dressed, bespectacled professional exuding technical competence. But if one approached closer, they would faintly sense the sharpness hidden beneath his tailored coat—something that made people believe that, if necessary, he would make cold and decisive choices without hesitation.

After Madam Lianxin left, this man in a dark gray coat, nearly black, sat down in front of the young girl. He didn’t meet her eyes directly, only cast a brief glance before looking away.

“Miss Thilan, I imagine you’re not familiar with me, so let me reintroduce myself. I’m Edmond, a representative of the ‘Planned Military-Industrial Complex.’ It’s a largely undisclosed organization. Our work stays mostly beneath the surface, and since the fields we’re involved in rarely overlap with the lives of ordinary people, very few have heard of us.”

“This might be your first time hearing this name, but going forward, it will be one of your shields—because it holds enough deterrence.”

“Didn’t Mr. Amenon say earlier that Mr. Edmond is the current chairman of the organization?” the girl asked, a little puzzled at him calling himself just a representative.

“That’s because even Amenon doesn’t understand us deeply. The so-called chairman is merely a rotating title shared by eleven representatives. We are just the visible tip of a vast iceberg beneath the water.”

“I tell you this important information during our first meeting to show sincerity and goodwill.”

“During the preliminary review, we found your personality to be cautious and rational, which is why we’re willing to share what we can for now.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, that’s all for today’s meeting. I look forward to what lies ahead for you, Miss Thilan.”

With that, he slid a small, sleek keycard across the table, then stood, bowed slightly, and left without further word.

Half a minute later, another man took the seat before Hestia. He was composed, solemn, with dark cyan hair—a man who exuded gravity simply by sitting down.

“Hello. I’m Ode,” he said. His voice was brief, calm, like a hammer striking steel with purpose.

“Hello, Mr. Ode,” Hestia replied. This man ranked among the five most powerful figures in the entire Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region. Even she couldn’t help feeling nervous. No wonder Madam Lianxin had warned that his presence might be overwhelming.

“No need to overthink. I will not judge you by your behavior at this moment. That would be like declaring an unassembled machine part destined to become a great and historic invention—it’s far too early.”

“Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Please go ahead,” the girl answered, steadying her breath, trying to remain composed.

“You’re probably dissatisfied with the current state of the Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region. If you had the power to decide its future, what kind of world would you want this region to be?”

“Don’t worry about whether it’s realistic. Just describe your ideal.”

“That would be...”

For the first time, she found herself envisioning something so distant.

“First, there would be no more toxic rain and pollution. Then, people’s quality of life would exceed the federal average. Everyone could pursue their dreams and interests freely, without being mocked for their choices. Society would be fair, peaceful, and not overrun by unnecessary anxiety and chaos.”

She spoke as thoughts came to her—after all, there hadn’t been much time to polish her words.

“Good. Now the second question: if achieving that vision required offending many people—even risking bloodshed and war—would you still pursue it?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Because we haven’t reached that point. But if possible, I would try my best to avoid the worst outcomes.”

“I’ll skip the third question,” he said after a pause.

“Still, I’m glad to have heard your answers, Miss Thilan. They bring a measure of comfort to my weary heart.”

He rose to his feet.

“If you need anything in the future, you can reach out to the other members of the board. Due to my particular responsibilities, I won’t leave you my contact details.”

With that, he turned and left. The intense pressure of his presence receded, and Hestia finally felt she could breathe again.

Though he hadn’t said much, she could sense the heavy burden that man carried—like the weight of ten thousand mountains. It was clear he hadn’t placed all his hopes on her as some savior. In his eyes, nothing seemed trustworthy anymore. Only his own will and actions could be relied upon.

To move such a deeply guarded soul would take far more than she could offer now. Perhaps only after reaching Sequence 7 would she begin to touch those emotions and learn the truth buried in his heart.

The remaining meetings with the other board members were relatively relaxed. Most stuck to introductions and briefly discussed future cooperation with her as a Songstress.

Until one special director sat down.

“This is Mr. Haydn, Hestia,” said Fernandi, guiding an elderly man to the seat before her.

Only then did the girl learn it was this kindly elder who had pushed for her acceptance into the academy.

“Thank you, Mr. Haydn.”

“No need for that, no need,” he said with a cheerful laugh and a kindly face.

“To see such an outstanding and lovely younger generation—it’s something that brings comfort and joy. Old folks are like that. We always want to offer advice or lend a hand, hoping that some part of ourselves carries on. Even in the face of death, that thought makes it easier to feel at peace.”

“I’m no longer young. The Songstress I once admired most has already walked ahead of me. I still revisit the albums and recordings I collected back then. Whenever I hear those familiar melodies, I’m reminded of those carefree years—and the dear friends of that time.”

“Every stage of life has its own kind of beauty. Don’t give it up just because you’re too anxious about the future. Years from now, you may forget all the stress, but the memories of climbing a mountain or having dinner with friends may remain forever.”

“That’s probably the beauty of memory.”

“You’re about to finish your first year at the academy and enter the second. I know you’ve taken on the role of student council president and have your responsibilities as a Songstress. But I hope you don’t devote all your energy to those things and forget what’s around you.”

“Take time to relax. Play games with friends. Go out shopping. Enjoy a good meal. These things matter too.”

“I hope that in four years, I’ll see a graceful, composed, happy, and confident lady graduate—not someone disheveled and overworked who’s forgotten how to live.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” the girl nodded.

“Haha, then let’s end our conversation here for today.”

Afterward, Hestia met with board member after board member until the night drew close to midnight and the banquet finally came to an end.

As she left, she walked to the entrance of the hall and looked back—only then did she notice that many of the guests, including the three most prominent figures, were only now beginning to leave. That meant they hadn’t departed right after speaking with her. In part, it was to take the rare opportunity to converse with others. But more than that, it was a gesture of respect toward everyone present.

“They’re really something else...” Hestia thought quietly.

“Should I say they’re incredibly considerate? Or just genuinely polite?”

She then climbed into a special hovercar parked outside the building. Escorted by a convoy, she finally returned to her residence, bringing this long and eventful day to a close.

“Whew... I really want a bath.”

After the banquet, her mind felt foggy from having to remember so many people and events—she just wanted to relax in peace.

“We will prepare your bath now,” said the two maids who were always on standby at her home.

Watching the girl collapse onto the sofa, they smiled softly. One went to run her bath, the other brought over a warm glass of milk and placed it on the table before her.

“Thanks, Aiko, Aira,” Hestia propped herself up with both hands and reached for the milk, taking a small sip before letting herself fall back again with her eyes closed. She just needed a few more minutes of rest.

“I’ll remind you in 10 minutes, Miss Hestia,” said Aira, lowering the lights in the room and gently reassuring her not to worry about falling asleep.

“Mmm...”

The girl murmured, already drifting off. Her breathing became steady—she was completely worn out from the day.

Ten minutes later, still asleep, Hestia hadn’t stirred. The two maids looked at each other helplessly, then extended the time by two more minutes before walking up to gently rouse her.

“It’s time for your bath, Miss Hestia.”

“Mmm...”

She slowly stirred and sat up, eyes reluctant to open. Her once neat hair was now messy, strands falling over her shoulders and face.

Seeing her in such a delicate and drowsy state, the maids decided to just carry her to the bathroom.

“Ah—” she let out a small gasp of surprise when first lifted, then realized what was happening and grew embarrassed.

“I can walk...” she muttered quietly, trying to wriggle free.

“It’s alright, we’re almost there,” said Aiko, opening the door ahead. Aira carried her bridal-style to the large underground bathroom.

“I’ll wash myself, thanks,” Hestia said, raising her hands in front of her once she was placed on the white bench in the bathroom, clearly too shy to accept further help.

The two maids nodded with smiles, understanding her bashfulness. One handed her fresh clothes while the other adjusted the ventilation and temperature, then quietly stepped out.

Hot water gushed from ornate white fixtures, filling the wide tub. Hestia shook her head to straighten her hair, then walked over to the mirror.

Soft black hair, pale blue eyes, a cute face around sixteen or seventeen years old—and the stunning beauty inherited from her mother and shared by her sister. Now that her Songstress talent had fully awakened, the girl reflected in the mirror exuded a unique blend of purity and allure—something unforgettable.

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and stared at her reflection.

“So eye-catching...” she murmured. Her voice was soft and filled with countless subtle tones—so rich and captivating that even she seemed startled by it.

Cough, cough. As if flustered by her own voice, she covered her mouth and cleared her throat before slowly regaining her composure.

“How did I become like this?”

She dabbed her forehead with a wet finger to help herself calm down.

Though she had restrained herself during the competition, the unconscious relief afterward had caused part of her Color-Grade Songstress aura to leak out. That natural charm was like a living myth, drawing people’s attention without her meaning to.

Thankfully, she had returned by car and hadn’t interacted much with others outside. Although many of the board members had spoken to her at close range, they were all seasoned individuals with strong willpower—enough to remain composed and recognize the Songstress effect for what it was.

As for her maids at home—they clearly didn’t have the same resistance. They had been doting and eager to please, even carrying her to the bathroom without permission.

In the past, they had behaved professionally, never overstepping boundaries. Unless she explicitly ordered it, they would never have acted on their own. Not even giving her extra minutes of sleep.

Shaking her head, Hestia undid her collar and slipped off her dress, heading to the shower first before stepping into the soothing warmth of the bath.

“I’ll need to ask my teacher how to manage the effects of this innate charm...” she thought.

“I can’t keep drawing attention everywhere I go. It’s exhausting.”

“I still want some privacy... a little peace.”

If she always had to wear the mask of a Songstress, it would be far too tiring.

“No wonder Senior Botis retired.”

She recalled the previous Songstress of the Four-Leaf Crystal Star Region—“Verdant Serpent” Yolanda—who had once held such a glamorous title.

With such thoughts drifting through her mind, Hestia leaned against the tub’s edge and dozed off again, her breathing calm and peaceful.

Half an hour later, gentle music roused her.

“It’s time to finish your bath, Miss Hestia. Staying in too long isn’t good for you,” came the maid’s reminder through the wall-mounted speaker.

“I’ll come out in a bit,” she answered lazily, pressing the button. She began drying off, left the bath, and changed into clean, soft sleepwear.

...

The next morning, Edess Academy held an immensely grand press conference. The principal and several board members attended, formally explaining the Songstress status of student Hestia Thilan and recounting her enrollment process.

They also elaborated on the school’s long-standing focus on music and Songstress development, positioning Edess Academy as a well-rounded, elite institution.

Such statements were expected—every school made them during these events. The attending reporters had heard it all before and were only waiting to move on.

Finally, at the end of the conference, amidst great anticipation, Hestia—now dressed in a fresh outfit—reappeared before the public.

Today she wore a navy-and-black dress made of soft fabric. The cut was not tight-fitting but loose and casual, evoking a sense of gentle everyday comfort.

Her snowy skin, deep-blue dress, serene features, delicate brows, and flowing black hair made her seem like a completely different person from the fiery Songstress of the previous night.

Standing before the cameras, this blue-eyed, black-haired girl briefly introduced her past, skimming over her childhood, then recounting her time at Edess Academy and humbly sharing her thoughts on taking the stage as a new Songstress.

“That concludes my personal remarks. I’m deeply grateful for everyone’s concern and support. I will walk the path of a Songstress step by step, and I hope to bring beauty and happiness to you all.”

As she gently lifted her skirt and bowed, the cameras captured the moment and froze it in time.

Yet what many did not expect was that what seemed like a simple formality—those words—would, in the days to come, gradually change the course of an entire nation.

Like the first breeze stirred by a small butterfly.