Until a Witch Dies – Meg Raspberry’s One Year Left to Live

I passed through the marketplace and the streets, eventually finding myself near the station.

The rail line in Lapis, this small provincial city, connects to other major cities. However, it is heavily affected by the weather, and although an underground subway system is under development, its completion is still a long way off.

At the very least, it will be finished long after my lifespan has run its course.

What am I even doing here?

Honestly, I should be out shopping, tending to my plants, or studying magic, but I just can’t bring myself to do anything.

Suddenly, I noticed a woman standing ahead of me.

There was a baby stroller nearby—was she a mother?

Lately, people like her had become prime targets for me. I would watch, waiting for a moment of distress, and the second a chance arose, I would swoop in.

But then, out of nowhere, she met my eyes and smiled at me.

Huh? Me?

I fumbled in surprise, glancing around to check.

In situations like this, if you mistakenly wave back, there’s usually someone behind you, and you just end up embarrassing yourself.

But unfortunately, there was no one else around who seemed like the intended recipient.

It really did seem like she was smiling at me.

“No, no, you must be mistaken.”

“Think about it. You must know her.”

“I don’t. I have no memory of this.”

“You sound like a politician.”

“You’ve always been a bit of an idiot.”

“Excuse me?!”

Inside my head, multiple versions of myself—Meg Raspberry—began a heated debate.

Meanwhile, the woman continued walking toward me.

The Megs in my brain all screamed in unison and scattered like startled spiders.

“Witch! I’m so glad I found you! Thank you so much for what you did back then.”

She grabbed my hand with both of hers and beamed.

In the midst of my internal chaos, I put on an awkward smile and replied, “Ahaha, no, no, it was nothing at all.”

What exactly is she talking about?

Has she mistaken me for some other witch?

But there are only two witches in Lapis—my master and me.

“Thanks to you, I was really saved.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, yes indeed.”

“Do you have time right now? I’d love to properly thank you. Let me treat you to some tea.”

“Ah, um…”

I meant to refuse but hesitated.

I couldn’t come up with a good excuse fast enough.

“I’ve been looking for you, hoping to meet you again. I’m really glad I found you.”

“Ah, well, I appreciate that.”

We ended up at a small, stylish café near the station.

Drinking tea with a stranger felt awkward.

Though, to her, I wasn’t a stranger at all.

“I’m truly grateful. If you hadn’t helped me that day…”

“O-oh, is that so…”

At this point, I had no choice but to power through.

I had to figure it out—extract as much information as possible through conversation and piece together my memory.

I can do this. I’m Meg Raspberry. I’ve got this.

“It must have been really tough for you, especially with the baby…”

“Oh yes, this little one is quite the handful.”

“But it’s good that everything turned out fine.”

“Huh? Turned out fine?”

“Oh, I mean! I was also hoping to see you again, so I’m glad we met! Ha ha ha!”

“I’m happy too, Witch of Lapis. If not for you, I’d probably be having a huge fight with my husband right about now.”

“A happy family is the most important thing.”

“That’s true. These days, so many couples split up over the smallest misunderstandings.”

“Well, husbands are still men, after all. I’m sure he’s had a woman or two in his past—”

“A woman?”

“—of course not! Hahaha! No way!”

This is hell.

Someone save me.

As I internally wiped my cold sweat, she suddenly placed a familiar-looking pocket watch on the table.

“Look, the watch you fixed. It’s still working perfectly.”

That’s when it all came back to me.

She was the woman I had helped the other day.

Her baby had broken the watch—an heirloom passed down from her husband’s mother.

But in reality, the baby hadn’t broken it at all. The spirit residing inside had simply vanished.

I had noticed her distress, spoken to her, replaced the watch’s spirit, and got it working again.

At that moment, she had looked so relieved, her face lighting up as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I never knew a watch could stop working because of a spirit rather than a mechanical failure.”

“Well, spirits have personalities too. Some just don’t suit certain objects. I simply called a new one. And thankfully, it responded.”

As we talked, more and more memories resurfaced.

Yes, that’s right. Seeing her had reminded me of the time I returned a spirit to Fiine’s clock.

I had thought that if I did the same thing, I could make her cry again.

And sure enough, she did.

Of course, I never had any ill intent.

But at that moment, I wasn’t acting out of a pure desire to help her.

What I really wanted was her tears.

To complete my task efficiently, I had relied on past experiences rather than genuine empathy.

I had thought, “I’ll just reuse an old trick.”

And the more I remembered, the more I felt an overwhelming guilt gripping my heart.

Of course, skills and experience are essential for helping others.

But those should be limited to magical skills and knowledge—not an understanding of human emotions as a mere means to an end.

—”I’ve gotten used to it. There’s a trick to it.”

Gotten used to what? A trick to what?

Since when did I become so full of myself?

I felt my face grow hot.

At first, I was simply happy to receive genuine emotions from others.

It made me feel like I was truly helping someone.

But at some point…

I stopped looking people in the eye.

I stopped facing them properly, heart to heart.