“But the flower shop’s salary isn’t high, and you usually bear all the household expenses. Where would you find any spare money?” Mrs. Josephine insisted, pushing the purse forward.
“Just take this. I have no use for it anyway.”
“Mom, who told you my salary isn’t high?” Alisa countered, a hint of pride in her voice. “That might be true for other flower shops in the city, but it’s certainly not the case for the Witch’s Flower Shop.”
A genuine smile blossomed on Alisa’s face as she spoke.
“While our business isn’t exactly booming, the salaries for Witch’s Flower Shop employees are absolutely among the best in the city. Manager Lena is incredibly wealthy; she’s a true magnate.”
“What’s more, I’m currently the acting manager of the flower shop. Even the employees with more seniority than me haven’t been granted such a position.”
Becoming an employee at the Witch’s Flower Shop had always been a profound source of pride for Alisa. The work was never strenuous, and the compensation far exceeded that of most other professions. At the time, she recalled, countless individuals had openly envied her good fortune.
The position of acting manager was even more significant. Beyond the enhanced salary compared to regular employees, it signified Manager Lena’s explicit approval. This, in turn, hinted at a potential future where Alisa might even ascend to the role of a true manager.
Her future, she firmly believed, was brimming with boundless possibilities.
“Really?”
“Why would I ever lie to you?”
“That truly is wonderful news.”
Mrs. Josephine hesitated for a long moment before finally retracting the money pouch from her hand. Yet, the deep-set wrinkles at the corners of her eyes remained, unfading.
Alisa knew, with a pang of understanding, that her mother didn’t quite believe her words.
In her mother’s worldview, what substantial wealth could a mere flower shop assistant possibly accrue? Even as an acting manager, the monthly salary would surely be nothing remarkable, just average.
This ingrained skepticism deeply troubled Alisa.
While such notions might hold true for other flower shops, they simply did not apply to the unique circumstances of the Witch’s Flower Shop.
Alisa struggled to find a way to make her mother believe her. Having lived as a commoner in Vidona for decades, her mother’s perceptions were deeply ingrained and exceedingly difficult to alter.
“So, you see, I can take care of myself perfectly well. I have money, and there’s no need for you to worry.”
“If only little Alisa possessed magic,” Mrs. Josephine sighed, her voice laced with sorrow. “Then she wouldn’t be bullied, and she could live a longer life. It’s all because your father and I were so incompetent…”
The moment her mother’s self-reproach began anew, Alisa swiftly cut her off.
“I’ve heard that so many times my ears have grown calluses,” Alisa interjected, her tone firm. “Possessing magic isn’t necessarily a good thing, Mom. Countless people perish in battle every single year.”
As the years advanced, her mother’s nagging and self-reproach had grown increasingly frequent. Though Alisa resisted the thought, a grim realization settled within her: her mother’s body was beginning to falter.
Perhaps, in just a few more years, her mother would depart from her.
“Besides,” Alisa continued, hoping to ease her mother’s mind, “I recently befriended a brave hero named Dorothy. She’s incredibly formidable. If I ever face any difficulties in the future, I’m certain she’ll come to my aid. You can rest assured.”
As she spoke, the striking black silhouette that had saved her that day involuntarily materialized in her mind’s eye.
Immediately afterward, a blush crept across her cheeks, and she instinctively, almost awkwardly, touched her nose.
She claimed to ‘know’ Dorothy, but in truth, it was barely an acquaintance.
In the span of two months, the hero had most likely forgotten all about her. Alisa’s words were merely a fabrication, designed to put her mother’s anxieties at ease.
Knowing her daughter had befriended a hero, her mother, Alisa hoped, would not fret excessively over her future.
“You befriended a hero?” Mrs. Josephine exclaimed, her initial surprise quickly giving way to a more compliant expression. “Little Alisa, you’re truly becoming more accomplished! How many people are you planning to invite to your birthday celebration tomorrow night? Let me help you with the preparations.”
Though Mrs. Josephine appeared somewhat surprised, her reaction seemed more an act of compliance, designed to humor Alisa.
Noting this, Alisa offered no further explanation. Instead, she began to count on her fingers the individuals she intended to invite.
“My friends: Anna, John… and Manager Lena, of course. And, well, Dorothy.”
Having finished her count, she added a quick clarification.
“Manager Lena will be back at the shop tomorrow, so I can ask if she’s free tomorrow evening,” Alisa explained. “As for my hero friend, Dorothy… she likely won’t be able to make it. She’s incredibly busy, after all.”
Hero Dorothy, Alisa knew, couldn’t possibly attend. She didn’t even possess a way to contact her. This entire fabrication was merely an attempt to complete her initial lie.
As for Manager Lena…
Alisa felt the likelihood of Lena attending her birthday celebration was equally slim. After all, their relationship was strictly professional, merely that of a superior and a subordinate, not true friends.
****
The following day, Lena, carrying her bag, gracefully boarded a carriage bound for the Witch’s Flower Shop.
Celia and her two companions had largely recovered from their injuries after receiving treatment. Nevertheless, Lena had granted them a holiday, unwilling to let them overexert themselves.
In truth, ever since they had ventured into the Serene Forest the previous day, Lena had discreetly shadowed them, offering protection from a distance.
When the Tier 4 magic beast emerged, she had considered intervening to slay it. However, after careful deliberation, she ultimately allowed Celia and her companions to confront the formidable foe on their own.
The shedding of blood was an indispensable rite of passage on the path to becoming a hero. Only through the crucible of brutal combat could they achieve rapid growth.
Every renowned hero had walked this very path. Blood and death—these were the immutable constants that defined a true hero’s journey.
In the past, Lena had witnessed numerous younger aspirants abandon their quest to become heroes out of a profound fear of death. She respected each individual’s choice, never offering additional persuasion.
Should Celia and her companions similarly contemplate giving up due to this harrowing battle, Lena would extend them the same respect and support.
However, to her slight surprise, Celia and her two friends not only refused to yield but instead ignited an even fiercer fighting spirit within themselves.
In their unwavering resolve, she glimpsed reflections of her own past self.
Perhaps, this was precisely why Holy Sword Megaphas had chosen her?
The city’s buildings, once toppled by the magic scorpions, had been meticulously rebuilt. Gazing out the carriage window at the newly erected structures, Lena found herself feeling a faint nostalgia for how things used to be.
Ding-ling—
The carriage bell, a gentle chime, roused her from her reverie. She knew the Witch’s Flower Shop had arrived.
Leaving a modest tip for the coachman, she pulled open the carriage door and descended with an inherent grace.
Ding-ling—
Another soft chime sounded as the carriage slowly departed behind her. Lena surveyed the flower shop before her, a place she hadn’t seen in nearly two months, and a captivating smile curved at the corners of her lips.
The flowers gracing the shop’s entrance had been replaced by white camellias, blooming vibrant even in winter’s chill. Through the glass, the dazzling array of blossoms inside appeared precisely as she had left them.
‘Alisa has managed things quite well,’ she mused.
Pushing open the door, Lena stepped inside. Several employees, upon recognizing her, unexpectedly bowed low, loudly proclaiming, “Welcome!” with cheerful smiles.
‘After two months away, they’ve completely forgotten their manager,’ Lena thought wryly.
Lena offered them a saccharine smile in return, remarking that she would make a note of the employees who had forgotten her, intending to deduct it from their monthly salaries. Instantly, the cheerful smiles vanished from their faces, replaced by expressions of eager subservience.
Shaking her head with a soft laugh, she decided not to engage with the playful employees any further.
To one side, Alisa, having observed Lena’s entrance, pursed her lips, a clear sign of hesitation. Anna, standing beside her, nudged her arm and whispered urgently, “Go on, she’s here!”
Yet, Alisa remained rooted to the spot, seemingly unmoving.
Inviting the manager to a birthday celebration was an unprecedented act within the shop; Alisa would undoubtedly be the first to do so.
A faint tremor of fear, a fear of rejection, held her captive.