[Location]: Living Room
"Also... one last thing, Hattie."
Anna lowered her voice, pointing at the massive double-door alchemy refrigerator in the kitchen with a look of maternal gossip on her face.
"You are going to a mixed dorm, and you are a High Witch now. Your mana is active, and your body is maturing."
Hathaway: "...Huh?"
"If you meet a girl you like at school, remember to use protection."
"I mean, if you accidentally produce an egg..." Anna's tone was extremely hardcore, carrying a terrifying mix of pragmatism and expectation. "I know young people nowadays think selling 'White Eggs' (unfertilized eggs) to power plants is eco-friendly pocket money, but if you actually produce a 'Viable Egg' (fertilized egg), bring it back."
Anna walked to the kitchen and opened the massive alchemy fridge.
Inside, thanks to the [Spatial Expansion IV] technology, the interior was as spacious as a walk-in cellar. But Anna pointed specifically to the Vegetable Crisper Drawer at the bottom.
"Look. These two 'Little Potatoes' were just produced recently. They have to stay in the Cryo-Stasis environment to stabilize their mana structure."
Hathaway peeked in. Two pale, apple-sized eggs were nestled quietly in the cold mist next to the pickles, looking like dormant ingredients.
"But once they pass the 'Safety Period' and grow up..." Anna closed the fridge and pointed towards the living room, her voice dropping to a whisper. "They have to be moved out for 'Incubation'."
Hathaway turned around and froze.
On the velvet armchair by the fireplace, there sat a giant egg, the size of a large watermelon. It was wrapped snugly in a thick, fluffy cashmere blanket, enjoying the warmth of the fire like a VIP.
Next to the armchair, an old-fashioned gramophone was playing a looped recording.
Hathaway listened closely. It wasn't music.
It was a stern voice reciting: "The History of House Ludwig: Chapter 1 — Why We Are Better Than Everyone Else."
Wiggle.
Seemingly hearing Hathaway's footsteps, the giant egg under the blanket shook excitedly. It leaned forward, looking like it wanted to roll off the chair to greet her.
"Sit still!"
Margaret walked over with a stern face, picked up the giant egg, and tucked it back into the warm blanket. She patted its smooth shell rhythmically. "You haven't finished your Egg-ducation for today. Do you want to come out as an illiterate witch?"
The egg drooped instantly, nestling back into the cushions with a sulky wobble.
"See that?" Anna whispered to Hathaway, looking at the egg with a mix of headache and doting love. "That's your sister. She's eight months old. The doctor says she could crack any day now."
"Once she hatches, the cost of Magical Formula alone will drain half our dividends. So..."
Anna patted Hathaway's shoulder heavily:
"Unless you want to spend your senior year changing diapers and teaching a floating egg calculus... use protection."
Hathaway looked at the giant egg on the sofa, which was currently vibrating enthusiastically to the rhythm of Ludwig History.
Calculus?
You expect an unhatched egg to learn Calculus?
I bet by the time she cracks, she won't cry "Momma"—she'll come out reciting the Periodic Table.
And judging by how arrogantly she kicked that cashmere blanket... Hathaway felt a phantom pain in her wallet.
This isn't a sister. This is a Gold-Swallowing Beast waiting to happen.
[Time]: 8:00 PM
[Location]: Hathaway's Bedroom
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Hathaway locked the heavy bag of 30,000 Gold Solars in the safe.
The room quieted down. She sat on the ridiculously large bed, her gaze suddenly landing on a roll of pink parchment on the nightstand.
It was Lin's gift.
The legendary "Pink Spell Manuscript."
Hathaway swallowed hard. She still remembered the meaningful look Lin gave her when she shoved it into her hands, and that ridiculously long title:
Tentacle Summoning: Not Just for Fighting—On the Aesthetics of Physical Entanglement and Asphyxiation.
"...Just one look," Hathaway told herself, trying to suppress her survival instinct with curiosity. "I'm an adult. I've seen everything on Earth's internet. How advanced can a mere Witch's 'private stash' be?"
With this reckless Earthling arrogance, she tremblingly untied the red ribbon on the manuscript.
Rustle.
The manuscript unrolled.
What met her eyes was not the vulgar imagery she imagined, but a dynamic alchemy illustration.
In the image, several purple tentacles covered in suckers were demonstrating an extremely complex topological structure—how to simultaneously entangle three different targets without violating the laws of spatial geometry, while performing some kind of high-frequency vibration...
Hathaway's pupils constricted violently.
With her 42,000 M-Unit High-Tier vision, she unfortunately saw every rune detail on those suckers clearly, as well as the dense academic notes on the side regarding "Nerve Ending Stimulation Feedback Rates."
Those weren't just "tentacles."
That was the perfect combination of Fluid Dynamics, Bionic Muscle Structure, and Spatial Folding Arts.
SNAP!
Hathaway closed the manuscript at light speed.
Her face turned completely red instantly, even redder than the Ludwig family eyes.
"Sorry to disturb."
Hathaway put her palms together and repented to the ceiling, feeling like her psyche had taken some unspeakable SAN check damage.
"I thought it was porn, but it turned out to be Lovecraftian Biomechanics. This kind of 'Art' is too early for humanity. As expected of Lin, even her smut is... hardcore."
She stuffed the manuscript into the deepest part under the bed like a hot potato and weighed it down with three pillows, deciding never to open it again in this lifetime.
Witches... are indeed a bunch of perverts.
To calm her traumatized soul, Hathaway decided to do something normal. Like organizing her clothes for tomorrow.
She took a deep breath and opened the massive walk-in closet.
Whoosh—!
The familiar, suffocating "Red and Gold" assaulted her face again.
At the bottom of the closet, she saw several familiar black shoeboxes. Inside lay a pair of black boots identical to the ones she was wearing today.
Hathaway picked up the price tag on the box: 8,800 Gold Solars / Pair.
Next to it, a crumpled credit card statement was stuck to the shelf.
[Statement: Bank of Void Black Gold Card]
Holder: Margaret von Ludwig
Amount Due: 58,000 Gold Solars
Status: Minimum Payment Selected
"...I knew it."
Hathaway rubbed her forehead.
These boots weren't just "standard-issue work boots." This was "Low-key Luxury" that Margaret had gritted her teeth and maxed out her card to buy, just so her daughter, who didn't like high heels, wouldn't lose face outside.
In Margaret's logic: Since my daughter wants to wear flats, she has to wear top-tier flats that won't slip even if she steps on the event horizon of a black hole. Money? Just pay it off when the dividends come next month.
Hathaway picked up the pair of silk panties printed with "GLORIA."
Looking at that golden lion head, she sighed.
Previously, she thought this was shameful. Now, she saw through it—this was sheer Brand Worship. It was like Earthlings needing to show the logo on their underwear, except Witches showed off "Family Glory."
This closet full of clothes was the microcosm of this family's "Live for Today" attitude. They weren't anxious about being poor; they were occasionally inconvenienced because "money was spent too fast."
"I can't be like them... waiting for dividends while the sister on the sofa waits to hatch."
Hathaway stood before the full-length mirror.
She looked at the reflection. Silver hair, crimson eyes, a face that was 100% Ludwig.
She tried to recall her name on Earth. Anna? Sarah? Jessica?
The syllables felt slippery, fading like a dream upon waking.
It doesn't matter anymore, she realized, a strange sense of finality settling in her chest. That person died on Earth. The moment I inherited this debt, this closet, and that unhatched egg downstairs...
I became Hathaway.
Hathaway closed the closet door. In her non-glowing but deeper red eyes, the light of reason flickered.
"This 30,000 Gold Solars is my startup capital. I don't just need pocket money. I need Wealth."
What she wanted was not "sustenance provided by family dividends," but "wealth she could control even if she broke away from the family."
And more importantly... she looked at the living room door, imagining the giant egg swaying to the music.
If that egg hatches next month, Margaret and Anna are going to be broke. Someone has to pay for the milk powder. And it looks like it's going to be me.
She was forced to pick an outfit from the closet. Because the black trench coat she wore back from the Main House was covered in arena dust.
She chose a deep crimson velvet military coat. The buttons were pure gold lion heads, the cuffs were embroidered with "Ludwig" in cursive script, and the skirt hem had dark rose patterns that shifted with the light.
This was an outfit that, even in the Witch World, appeared "excessively rich" and "loud."
Wearing it, standing in front of the mirror. Hathaway looked at the overly gorgeous, logo-covered silver-haired girl and gave a bitter smile.
"Fine. Since you guys love saving face so much, love the 'Ludwig Daily Life' so much... Then I'll wear this 'Glory' to Yggdrasil."
Tomorrow, all the Yggdrasil freshmen would see a Ludwig branch member who radiated the aura of a nouveau riche, covered in designer brands, but actually only had 30k cash (enough for 3 pairs of shoes) in her pocket.
But that didn't matter.
What mattered was that she knew clearly:
In this universe conquered by Witches, poverty is not the original sin.
Not knowing how to use resources to plunder more is the original sin.
"Just you wait, nobles of the White City."
Hathaway adjusted her bowtie in the mirror, fixing the lion head button. The corner of her mouth curled into a mischievous smile belonging to a Game Designer.
"Since my family loves spending money so much... I'll go earn enough money so they can never spend it all."