“Hooh. Well, it suits you somewhat.”

This was the teacher’s reaction upon seeing Dorothea return triumphantly in Gothic attire.

Dorothea, who had expected to be scolded for wearing something so frilly and messy, brightened at the unexpected praise.

She had been inwardly pleased with her new clothes but worried about her teacher’s reaction, and now that concern had completely disappeared.

“Ahem, well, that’s good then. Should I buy some for you next time? Don’t you get tired of wearing such loose things every day?”

“I don’t need it, you just enjoy it. While you can, that is.”

Saying this, the teacher curled up the corners of her mouth.

It was a smile that anyone would find suspicious, but Dorothea, in her excitement, failed to grasp its true meaning.

She had carelessly let her guard down in front of the terrifying witch.

And the price for that carelessness was severe.

“Huh? Huh? Why is this happening?”

Even if Dorothea lacked general common sense, she wasn’t stupid.

Since it was common for her clothes to become tattered after running one of her teacher’s “errands,” Dorothea classified clothing into two categories based on their use.

When she had to run around in the wild, she wore the everyday clothes she had saved at home.

She only wore her newly bought clothes for more—questionably—docile tasks like managing the barrier that held the dead or boiling all sorts of ingredients in a large cauldron.

She thought this would prevent her clothes from getting damaged easily.

But Dorothea didn’t know.

The negative energy of necromancy adversely affected all sorts of objects, and clothes were no exception.

She hadn’t realized this fact before because her clothes had always been physically destroyed before necromancy could finish them off.

Originally, killing with physical damage was faster and more intuitive than killing with poison damage.

At first, she could dismiss it as “Does the fabric quality seem a bit worse? Is it just my imagination?” but after about two weeks, when black debris-like stuff started to come off the clothes, even Dorothea realized the problem was serious.

“T-Teacher, why is this happening? Was I scammed?”

“That would be quite an amusing situation in its own right, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. It’s just one of the characteristics of necromancy. That’s why I told you it would be better to just create and wear clothes with necromancy. Or stack them up like consumables.”

“Why are you only telling me this now!?”

“You didn’t ask.”

At her teacher’s response, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Dorothea trembled.

She wanted to slap her teacher’s mouth, who was half-lying on a bone sofa and yawning, but if she actually did such a thing, she’d end up diving into the mouth of a giant carnivorous plant, so all she could do was suppress her anger.

This was why Dorothea had to rush back to Glückstadt, tightly clutching the money left over from buying clothes last time.

“I-I see. You’ve had a hard time.”

Tip wore a complicated expression—half joy at meeting Dorothea again, and half bewilderment.

Dorothea hadn’t told Tip that she was the Witch of the East’s apprentice, but she had already revealed that she was a mage’s apprentice and could use simple magic herself.

This was the result of thinking that she just needed to avoid being discovered as a necromancer.

“So, do you need me to guide you again this time?”

“Well, I roughly memorized it last time, so there’s no need for guidance. I just happened to see you while passing by, so I spoke to you.”

Dorothea shrugged, saying the timing was good, but Tip inwardly felt a pang.

After parting with Dorothea, Tip had been lingering near the city entrance every day, holding onto a faint hope.

It was certainly luck that Dorothea had discovered him keeping watch, but it wasn’t purely luck.

Of course, Tip didn’t reveal this fact. He was afraid Dorothea might be put off if he seemed too obsessed after meeting just once.

And so, the two visited the seamstress’ shop again.

“W-what? What happened? How did my work end up like this!?”

They could see the seamstress’s reaction, who was so startled she was almost foaming at the mouth.

“Little miss, what on earth happened? No, even if you left it out in wind and rain for a whole month, it shouldn’t look like this…?”

“Ahem.”

Dorothea cleared her throat awkwardly.

“The air where I live is a bit bad, so things like clothes wear out quickly. So, I was wondering if you have any sturdier but still nice clothes?”

“Bad air? This isn’t a problem that ends at that level.”

“It’s the truth, so there’s nothing I can do.”

Dorothea wasn’t lying.

The air in a forest with graves—corpses without relatives walking in on their own and burying themselves—ghost prisons—attracting and trapping evil spirits like fly traps—and colonies of poisonous plants—farmed by skeletons—around the house couldn’t possibly be good.

The seamstress woman frowned and said, “This became like this just from wearing it, without any particularly intense movement?”

“Yes.”

“This, despite how it looks, is made using quality fabric. If it can’t even last a month in such an extreme environment, it’s likely that any clothes you buy and take there will end up the same way soon.”

“I see…”

Dorothea’s shoulders slumped.

Just as she was about to give up, thinking she’d have to wear rags all the time unless she reached the level of using necromancy like breathing 24 hours a day like her teacher, Tip intervened in panic.

“Um, then, couldn’t Dorothy learn the skills to make or repair clothes? If she knows how to fix clothes herself, it would be okay even if they get damaged.”

Dorothea blinked.

Her reaction was as if she hadn’t even thought of such a thing.

The seamstress woman nodded.

“Well, if we’re talking about whether it’s possible or not, it is possible. After all, it lasted a month, or rather a few weeks. If we assume repair work every week or so, it should be fine. If that’s too troublesome, making clothes using materials from that forest would last even longer. However—“ the seamstress woman added. “—why should I teach such skills? That’s my life, my livelihood. It’s not like this little miss is going to be my apprentice, right?”

It was an era where the value of skills was precious.

Sewing especially was something that housewives learned as a side job and essential life skill, so the skill to make “high-quality clothing” that could be supplied even to nobles, like the woman’s, was absolutely not something that could be easily learned.

It wasn’t that the woman was particularly selfish, but if she carelessly spread her skills, it could lead to a situation where she cut off her own livelihood by increasing competitors.

Dorothea pondered for a moment with her arms folded, then took out her money pouch and held it out. It was the money left over from buying clothes last time. In terms of amount, it was twice as much as before.

“What if I pay this as tuition?”

The woman checked the contents of the pouch, then shook her head.

“I could make 2, no, 3 sets of clothes like last time, but skills are different. If you want to buy my skills purely with money, even ten times this wouldn’t be enough.”

“Then, how can I learn?”

“You either become my apprentice and serve under me for a few years, or you bring a skill that makes it worth my while to share my skills.”

Although she mentioned two methods, the woman showed almost no expectation for the latter.

The girl in front of her was quite mature and clever for her age, but she was still too young to have acquired any special skills.

As Dorothea was lost in thought, going, “Hmm,” Tip spoke up, “Hey, Dorothy. You know, that ointment you used on me last time. Couldn’t you teach her how to make that? That seems like an incredibly valuable skill. Or if you have other skills, that would be fine, too.”

“Would that work?”

“Ointment? Can you make medicine too?”

At Tip’s words, the seamstress woman showed interest.

Dorothea took out the ointment and a knife from her bosom.

The woman was startled when some kid suddenly pulled out a blade, but for Dorothea, who often roamed the wilderness, this was just a daily necessity.

Dorothea made a small wound on her finger with the knife, then immediately applied the ointment to it.

As the wound that had been bleeding just a moment ago healed quickly, the seamstress woman’s eyes widened with interest.

“That medicine, did you really make it? Can you teach me how to make it?”

“I can hand over the medicine. However, making it requires our special environment, so even if I teach you, you won’t be able to do it. If you’re okay with a medicine that’s a bit less effective, I can teach you that.”

“Hmm. If it’s less effective, how much of a difference are we talking about?”

“About 50%?”

“That’s quite a big drop. Don’t you have anything else useful?”

Dorothea thought of magic that might help with clothing maintenance.

Most required handling mana to use properly, but some could be reproduced without mana if one knew the appropriate materials and preparation methods.

There were quite a few cases where the materials themselves contained specific mana.

“How about powder that, when burned for incense, keeps small insects away? Or a paste that absorbs moisture from the surroundings?”

“I look forward to working with you from today, little miss,” the seamstress declared, suddenly grabbed Dorothea’s hand.

Her eyes were blazing in a way that suggested she wouldn’t take no for an answer now.

Dorothea said she would get permission from her guardian just in case, then told her teacher about this matter, and the teacher gave permission, saying she didn’t care what Dorothea did in her free time as long as she did her assigned tasks well.

And so, Dorothea’s busy days began.

Usually, she improved her magic skills or did odd jobs under the Witch of the East, and when she had free time, she learned dressmaking under the seamstress woman.

Tip was excited about this.

He could see Dorothea’s face every time she came to Glückstadt.

Even though Glückstadt was quite a large city and didn’t need a guide many times, Dorothea didn’t coldly push Tip away, either.

Due to her unique position as a witch’s apprentice, Dorothea also found it difficult to make friends her own age.

“…Hey, what happened to your face?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

But from some point on, Dorothea started to notice that injuries were increasing on various parts of Tip’s face and body.

At first, Dorothea didn’t probe further because Tip repeatedly said he was fine, but when this kept happening day after day, she finally made Tip tell her the story semi-forcefully.

The situation was as follows.

Tip was an orphan.

More precisely, he was an orphan in a relatively okay situation for an orphan.

He had lost his parents when he was young and was left to live with relatives, but even those relatives disappeared one day, leaving him alone in the house.

Since he had the house left by his relatives, he didn’t have to worry about a place to sleep, but he had to earn money to live.

Until now, he had been helping with various small tasks for the city people and receiving compensation for it, but a problem arose with the house Tip was staying in.

The original homeowner hadn’t shown up for a long time, and some bad people who noticed that only a kid was living there started pressuring Tip to hand over the house.

As he was telling the story, Tip subtly glanced at Dorothea.

It was a look that seemed to worry about Dorothea getting hurt if she got involved, but also seemed to expect something from her.

Dorothea fell into contemplation.

A witch must be thorough in contracts.

A distorted scale became the cause of catastrophe.

It was okay if someone benefited incidentally while doing something for one’s own gain, but if one was acting to help someone, ome must receive appropriate compensation for it.

Her teacher’s advice echoed in her head like a mantra.

But Dorothea was still young.

She wasn’t mature enough as a witch to coldly ask, “So what’s the compensation?” to a friend asking for help.

So, she extended a one-sided helping hand.

“Where are the guys who bullied you?”

***

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