Chapter 1: An Evil Witch Lives in the Southern Great Forest
As soon as I came to on the plush bed, the first thing I spat out was, naturally, a curse.
“F*ck.”
Even in my groggy state, I could clearly feel that things had gone to sh*t… no, the empty feeling of something missing.
Denying that all-too-real sensation, I glumly hugged the soft pillow.
“F*ck… seriously, f*ck…”
I had so much I wanted to say, but the rising anger choked out every word.
All that came out were curses hurled at the damn author.
With the witch’s delicate voice, I spat vicious profanities, cursing the author.
“May you step in a puddle on a rainy day and soak your socks… may you put 500 won in a game machine only for it to eat your coin…”
Wouldn’t curses like these make the author peek out in fear?
I held onto that fleeting hope for a moment, but as expected, no amount of cursing made the author appear.
After hurling curses until I was hoarse, I started calling out to the author, wherever they might be, attempting to negotiate.
“Author? I know you’re listening. I was totally wrong… can you just send me back to reality?”
“On second thought, you’re completely right! Beatrice doesn’t need to be evil! A pathetic loser is way cuter as is!”
“Author? You’re hearing me, right?”
I screamed like a madwoman until the room shook, but still, the author didn’t show up.
…What do I do? Do I really have to live as ‘Witch Beatrice’ like this?
Not as a strong, evil witch, but as a pathetic, fake-evil loser witch?
No matter how much I yelled or begged, reality wouldn’t change, and my already depressed mood sank even lower.
“Why did it have to be me… I didn’t even say I was dropping it, didn’t write 5,700 characters… I just innocently shared an opinion…”
I hadn’t done anything to trigger a possession cliché.
That’s what made it even more unfair.
If I’d pissed off the author, maybe I’d get it, but to be possessed just for sparking their curiosity?
What kind of baseless possession story is this?
“Sniff…”
Tears like chicken droppings rolled down, soaking the plush blanket.
Crying out my injustice only made me feel more depressed, deepening my sadness.
“At least tell me how to get back before throwing me into this! Or give me a goal or something!”
Being tossed into this world with no guidance—what am I supposed to do?
I kept crying until the sun was high in the sky, but eventually, I had to wipe my tears and face reality.
Grrrrrr.
“…”
The witch’s tiny stomach was growling, demanding food.
Fine, no matter how much I cry or throw a fit, the fact that I’m possessed won’t change.
The damn author doesn’t seem interested in helping or pulling me out either.
So.
I have to survive in this insane world and find a way back.
…Whether I can survive until the end is questionable.
Still, my chances of survival are probably decent. This is a novel certified by the author to avoid grim content.
“That’s a bit of a relief, I guess…?”
It’s definitely a relief. If this were an apocalypse or grimdark story, I’d have hanged myself already.
But a comedic, action-packed adventure? I might have a fighting chance.
Clinging to that tiny spark of hope, I wiped my face and got up from the plush bed.
Then, I quietly started rummaging through the house to fill my empty stomach.
‘If I look around, I’ll find at least a cracker or something,’ I thought naively.
But, as always, naive thoughts lead to trouble.
“No stored ingredients, but a whole collection of every kind of cooking tool.”
All I found in this quiet house was a kitchen full of scattered cooking utensils.
…This is a bit of a problem.
I’ll have to go outside to find food.
But outside is dangerous.
Not because I’m a pathetic loser like Beatrice, but because Beatrice’s house is in a dangerous place.
The Southern Great Forest.
One of the four forbidden zones in the novel, with an abysmally low survival rate, avoided even by strong adventurer parties.
“How is even the spawn point this sh*tty?”
Letting out a hollow laugh, I grabbed the sturdiest-looking cleaver from the kitchen tools.
It fit perfectly in my hand, with a weight I could swing without strain.
Satisfied with the cleaver’s quality, I slowly stepped out of the house.
“It’s a comedic action-adventure, and I’m a supporting character with some relevance.”
No way I’d die, right?
*
My worries about stepping outside were unfounded—despite wandering the forest for hours, I didn’t see a single monster or beastman.
The forest was so peaceful it was hard to believe it was a forbidden zone, making me question if it really was.
Still, knowing it was dangerous, I stayed vigilant, carefully gathering ingredients while watching for any signs of movement.
“Oh, this looks edible enough.”
I plucked an ugly mushroom growing by a conifer and tucked it into the basket I’d brought.
With that mushroom, my short but long foraging trip was done.
Having gathered enough food for three days, I decided not to get greedy and headed home.
Moderation is key.
Excess can be worse than scarcity.
It’s only been a day since I was possessed as the novel’s witch.
I don’t know how to use Beatrice’s powers yet, and having only read about the Southern Great Forest, I can’t even guess how dangerous it is.
Moving recklessly in this situation would guarantee a dog’s death.
So, I need to play it safe.
“Nothing will happen on the way home, right?”
Even if something does, I’m ignoring it.
No matter what it is, my life comes first.
With that firm resolve, I hurried toward my new home.
Clutching the food I’d gathered like a diligent squirrel, I ran as fast as I could.
Panting and out of breath, I finally saw my sweet home.
Relieved that nothing had happened on the way, I smiled happily, but that smile quickly turned sour.
“P-please, save us!!!”
Why, in front of my house…
“Grrr…”
Are kids who look about eight years old facing off against a big, majestic wolf?
One glance told me the wolf could swallow those tiny kids in a single bite.
Its pristine body showed no signs of fighting them.
It was probably just toying with its prey before eating.
But that wasn’t important right now.
What mattered was that I was next after those kids.
No, maybe I’d be eaten first, before them.
Because the wolf’s eyes had just shifted to me.
My mind went blank as I carefully pulled the cleaver from the basket.
…Could a small knife like this even scratch that massive wolf?
It feels like my arm would get bitten off first.
No matter how I thought about it, the outcome was already decided.
Still, if I’m going down, I’ll at least leave a mark—I prepared to throw the cleaver.
Watching the wolf approach, licking its lips, I thought to myself.
Damn author.
I hope you rot in hell.
“Grr!”
Before I could finish the thought, the wolf leaped to bite my head.
I faced it calmly and threw the cleaver.
Then, something astonishing happened.
Thud!
With a dull sound, the cleaver hit the wolf’s head, slicing through like it was tofu.
At the same time, the wolf split in half from head to tail.
To put it simply, the thrown cleaver had bisected the wolf.
Sighing in relief at the unexpected outcome, I was soon hit with another horror.
A wolf big enough to swallow an eight-year-old in one bite.
If it gets split in half while charging, what happens to me?
The answer:
Splatter—
‘The wolf’s blood soaks my entire body.’
I avoided the misfortune of being hit by its bisected corpse, but the blood it sprayed as it died drenched me completely.
It felt like I’d jumped into water fully clothed and climbed out.
But I didn’t have time to complain about the stickiness.
Who knew when another monster might smell the blood and come running?
So, I grabbed the cleaver from the ground, just in case.
Then, I approached the trembling kids in front of my house, flashing what I thought was a charming smile.
If a pathetic loser witch like me smiled, maybe it’d calm them down from their panic?
I approached with that hope, but strangely, I was met with disgust and flight.
“R-run! It’s a man-eating witch!!!”
Wait, that’s not right.