Miss Witch, even if we're poor, we can't sell ourselves!

After those words were spoken, the entire bar became so quiet that you could hear the pendants on the crystal chandelier gently tapping together.

Then, as if someone had pressed reverse, all the witches surrounding Reminal began to retreat at an astonishing speed.

In less than half a minute, the crowd had dispersed completely.

Meanwhile, Reminal remained standing in the same spot.

Her dress was wrinkled, her brooch was askew below her collarbone, and several strands of her light pink hair had escaped from her bun and were messily plastered to her forehead and cheeks.

The witch in the burgundy dress gently placed Miya on the bar stool next to the bar, and even smoothed out the wrinkles in her collar that had been pulled up from behind.

Then she walked to the bar, took the blue cocktail from Zimi Lu's hand, and took a sip.

"Reminal, you're really something."

Her voice remained languid, as if she were calling a friend she had known for a long time but who was not exactly a peace of mind.

Kreminell's body tensed up noticeably, and her expression looked like that of a problem student whose name had been called out by the homeroom teacher.

"They never come to see me unless there's something wrong, but as soon as they do, something bad happens."

Flores shook the glass in her hand, and the ice cubes made a crisp sound.

"If you really become famous, tomorrow's headline will be 'A noblewoman sold her own daughter?!'"

Reminal's face turned ashen instantly. She took a deep breath and then let out a loud bang.

"That's not my daughter at all! And I never intended to sell her!"

Reminal waved her hand wildly in the air, pointing at Miya, who was huddled up next to the bar.

"She's a liar! A liar! She owes me money! I just—she owes me money, so—"

She couldn't continue, because she realized that no matter how she explained, it sounded like she was trying to cover something up.

Flores glanced at her, and the languid expression in her deep purple eyes slowly faded a little.

"Calm down, okay, miss?"

Reminal immediately shut her mouth.

"Come on, take a deep breath with me."

Reminal took a deep breath and finally calmed down a bit.

"So just tell me straight, what exactly do you want?"

Flores tilted her head.

Reminal took another deep breath, and this time her expression finally recovered a little from the brink of collapse.

"Let her work here to pay off my debts. She has nowhere else to go anyway. Rather than letting her continue to deceive people outside, it's better to keep an eye on her."

Flores blinked, her eyebrows slightly raised, the curve of her lips deepened, and her deep purple eyes narrowed.

"Damn, you're really selling your child."

Just then, Zimi Lu picked up her glass, ready to take a sip to calm her nerves, but upon hearing those words, she spat the entire cocktail she was drinking onto the bar.

"Cough cough—cough cough cough—"

While coughing violently, Zimi Lu frantically grabbed a white cloth to wipe the bar, her shoulders shaking, whether from choking or trying to suppress laughter, it was hard to tell.

"I said it's a job! It's legal, okay!"

Reminal's voice was broken into segments.

Flores waved her hand.

"Alright, alright, I was just kidding."

She picked up her glass again, took a sip, and then placed it on the bar.

"and then?"

"And then?"

"And then you carried her in like a princess in front of everyone?"

Reminal opened her mouth.

"And then she still calls you 'Mom'?"

"That was her own addition, okay?!"

Reminal subconsciously turned her head to look at Miya, who quickly lowered her head, her light golden head almost buried in the collar of her sailor uniform.

Flores chuckled.

"Alright, alright, I'm not teasing you anymore."

She slipped one hand into a hidden pocket on the side of her long dress, turned and took two steps toward the bar, then stopped and glanced back at Reminal.

"I understand the situation. You can go now; I need to talk to the child."

Reminal paused, glanced at Miya who was huddled up on the high stool, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just glared at Miya angrily and ran away.

The door closed.

The footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

There were only three people left next to the bar.

Flores leaned against the bar, her long fingers holding a wine glass, her deep purple eyes half-closed.

Zimi Lu was still wiping the bar, but her movements were noticeably slower, and she kept glancing this way.

Miya sat on a high stool, her hands on her knees, her back ramrod straight, barely daring to breathe.

Flores took another sip of her drink and then placed the glass on the bar.

She turned to Miya and bent down.

One hand slipped under Miya's armpit, while the other supported her knees, and then he lifted her from the bar stool into his arms, just like Reminal had done in a princess carry earlier.

Miya froze.

Her gaze was forced to meet those deep purple eyes.

There are fine golden lines deep in the iris, like some kind of ancient magic circle miniaturized in the pupil.

Flores was looking at her.

His gaze began with her light blonde short hair, swept over her barely visible eyebrows, then her light-colored eyes that were slightly wide open due to nervousness, her nose tip that still had a faint pink tinge, and finally her tightly pursed lips.

Then, her gaze swept down over the large blue collar of the sailor uniform and the bow tied with a scarf, the slightly trembling fingers resting on her knees, the white socks, and the little leather shoes that had been kicked off several times.

Miya felt her ears burning from being stared at. She wanted to look down, but the golden patterns in those deep purple eyes seemed to have some kind of magic, making it impossible for her to look away.

"Hmm~"

She reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair that had sticked up near Miya's ear back behind her ear.

"It's cute, and it's more than enough."

Mi Ye's pupils suddenly contracted.

Is that enough?

What does "enough" mean?

Her brain started working at an extremely unhealthy pace at that moment.

The scene seen through the crack in the door of the private room on the second floor, and the ambiguous neon lights of the bar's entrance.

All the clues connected, exploding into a mushroom cloud in her mind.

"What do you mean by 'enough'? It's enough."

Flores tilted her head, her long, black hair sliding down her shoulders, the ends swaying gently in the air.

"What do you think it means?"

"That—that—it's that one—"

Miya's hands flailing in the air, her voice growing increasingly frantic.

"What did you mean when you said it was more than enough? What kind of job, what position, and what exactly does it involve?"

Flores blinked.

"Oh, you want to know exactly what it involves? What kind of job do you think it is? Tell me? What kind of job are you thinking of?"

Miya's mouth opened and closed again.

I can't say it.

If she says it out loud and the other person doesn't mean it that way, then she'll be giving herself away.

If she doesn't say anything, what if the other person really has that intention? Then she'll really be sold off.

"I...I...I'm too young, I can't do that kind of work!"

Miya finally managed to utter a complete sentence.

Flores tilted her head, her long, black hair sliding to one side.

"What kind of job?"

Her tone remained eerily gentle, and her deep purple eyes narrowed.

A dying gurgling sound came from Miya's throat.

Flores finally let out a soft laugh.

"What kind of nonsense is going on in your head?"

She pulled Mi Ye closer to her chest, then moved one hand from Mi Ye's back to the top of her head and gently patted her.

"This is a proper bar. Upstairs are the lounge and private rooms, not the kind of place you're thinking of. What you just bumped into were customers in a private room, it has nothing to do with our establishment."

Miya's face didn't cool down; instead, it got even hotter.

As expected, they were spotted.

She buried her face in Flores' shoulder and let out a mournful cry of utter despair.

Flores chuckled again, patted Miya's back gently, then turned to the bar with her in her arms and finished the last sip of her drink.

She placed Miya back on the bar stool, bent down, and aligned her gaze with Miya's eyes.

"Listen up, little one."

The voice was no longer so languid; instead, it carried a hint of seriousness.

"Since you owe Reminell money and do need to work, then just obediently work here. It's not strange. Serving dishes, wiping glasses, and chatting with customers occasionally. As long as you listen to me, I won't make you do anything you don't want to do."

She extended a finger and gently tapped the tip of Mi Ye's nose.

"The salary will be handed over directly to Reminal, but there will be a commission."

Miya's eyes lit up instantly.

"Commission?"

"Got it?"

Flores tilted her head to look at her.

"I understand, I understand, I understand!"

Miya nodded her head like a woodpecker.

Commissions mean she gets money, and money means she can draw abilities from the Wishing Well.

As Flores watched the rapidly changing expressions on Mi Ye's face, the corners of her mouth curved up again.

She straightened up, turned and walked behind the bar, pouring herself a half-full glass of wine.

Taking advantage of the moment when Flores turned around, Miya took a deep breath to calm herself down, but her curiosity finally overcame her fear.

She secretly mobilized the little magic power within her body, and a faint, almost invisible light emanated from her fingertips.

[Exploration]

This is a skill that every witch is born with.

She turned her gaze to Flores, who was standing by the bar.

Flores was holding a wine glass, her back to her, her long, dark hair swaying gently at the opening in the back of her burgundy dress.

A semi-transparent panel unfolded before Miya's eyes.

Name: Flores

[Race]: Witch

【constitution】:???

【agile】:???

【intelligence】:???

【charm】:? ? ?

Miya blinked.

It's all question marks.

None of the four attributes are visible.

She had looked it up online and found that there were only a handful of witches in the world who could completely block the panel, and each one of them was ridiculously strong.

Miya gasped, silently placed her hands back on her knees, sat up straight, her legs together, and her little leather shoes neatly placed on the footrest of the high stool.

Who exactly is this older sister?

What kind of terrifying den of tigers and dragons did she stumble into?

Flores turned back with her wine glass in hand and saw Mi Ye sitting stiffly like a primary school student, and the corners of her mouth curved up again.

"My name is Flores, the owner of this shop, and also the poor soul who occasionally gets disgusted by Reminal."

Then she tilted her head, and the dark red in her deep purple eyes flickered under the light.

"And you, little one, what's your name?"