Chapter 282 - 255: The Sebastian Clan

Chapter 282: Chapter 255: The Sebastian Clan

Shire had wanted to ask Agatha many times whether any relatives from her Sebastian Clan were still alive, and why she never mentioned them.

But asking a woman such a question wasn’t appropriate. She had already become a Ghost Witch, so asking would be like rubbing salt in a wound. For that reason, Shire had always deliberately avoided the topic.

Now, the appearance of Uncle Musa had given Shire a long-absent feeling of family, which had also caused Agatha to lose some of her composure. He thought for a moment and understood what was troubling her.

"N-no." After a few seconds of silence, Agatha stammered. She stood in the doorway of the stone house, her already slightly hunched back seeming even more bent.

Just as she was about to leave, Shire spoke again. "It’s not good to keep things bottled up inside. They can eat away at you. Since we’re allies, it’s our duty to help each other carry our burdens."

Agatha silently turned to look at the goblin by the table, and Shire offered her an encouraging gaze in return.

The atmosphere remained strangely quiet for several seconds. Just as Shire was about to speak again, Agatha heaved a deep sigh. She returned to her chair and sat back down, then picked up the half-eaten gingerbread man from before. Shire glimpsed Agatha’s fingers trembling slightly, as if the little cookie weighed a ton.

"I didn’t really want to talk about this," Agatha said, holding the snack. She didn’t bring it to her mouth, instead staring blankly at the stone wall. "But you’re right. There are some things an ally needs to know."

"If—and I mean if—this is too uncomfortable for you, I think we can..." Shire started to say, looking at the expression on the Ghost Witch’s face across the table.

But Agatha raised a hand, waving to cut the goblin off. "No, it’s fine. You’re right. Some things must be faced."

Shire said no more. He placed his hands on the table, ready to listen patiently. He knew it was best for him to be a listener right now, not an advisor.

"Over the past few days, you’ve made me feel a bit jealous on several occasions." Agatha didn’t look at Shire. Her eyes were fixed on the half a gingerbread man in her hand. It was shaped like a little person—a little girl, in fact—but she had already broken it in the middle and eaten the other half. "I’m sorry for thinking it, but Shire... you have a good sister."

"Do you have a sister, too?"

"Yes," Agatha nodded slightly. Her long, pale fingers slowly scraped at the face of the gingerbread half. "If you can still call her my sister, that is."

Shire frowned. He didn’t reply, watching her in silence. Sure enough, her next words shocked him to his core. "I think she’s the one who turned me into a Ghost Witch."

"Your sister? Your own flesh-and-blood sister?"

"Yes. My twin sister." Agatha gave a pained laugh, a flicker of agony in her purple eyes. "Sounds like a cheap drama, doesn’t it? A sister using a vile curse to harm her own flesh and blood. It’s even more dramatic than one of those trashy family-saga novels the booksellers peddle."

"Why would she do that?" Shire asked.

"Jealousy," Agatha exhaled slowly. "Back when I couldn’t make sense of it, I thought some villain must be coveting our clan’s bloodline. But after I carefully ruled out every other possibility, I slowly came to realize it had to be her."

"My sister, Elma Sebastian, with her own hands, put the ashes of the cursed item into my food or drink and turned me into a Ghost Witch."

Shire gritted his teeth. Agatha had told him before how this kind of Transformation Curse worked: you first had to obtain a part of the victim’s body—like blood, hair, or a fingernail—then, after performing the ritual, the resulting ashes had to be ingested by the victim for the curse to take effect. This was precisely why he had been trying to track down his personal guard, Auberto. If he could just find the missing man, he might be able to confirm who was trying to harm him.

"What was she jealous of?" Shire asked.

"Many things." Agatha stopped scraping the gingerbread half and instead clutched it in her hand. "My looks, my height, my aptitude for learning... and my Magic Talent."

"That many?"

"I was born less than half an hour before her, but our birth caused our mother’s health to fail," Agatha said slowly. "Perhaps it wasn’t entirely our fault. After all, Mother wasn’t a member of the Twelve Bloodline Clans. After giving birth to us, her health rapidly declined, and she passed away not long after. Because of that... Father was never very fond of Elma."

"It was unavoidable. As we grew up, I surpassed my sister in looks, height, and Intelligence. This led to our father frequently using me to belittle her."

"And when we awakened our Magic Ability, that belittling only intensified."

"Intensified?" Shire narrowed his eyes.

"You know we’re descendants of the Twelve Bloodlines. The Magic Ability of our ancestors has waned over time; it’s nowhere near as powerful as it once was. Take me, for example. I can only use a few bloodline spells. And while I can summon the Star Realm Giant Dog Rubus, that alone makes me one of the most outstanding Bloodline Warlocks in recent generations."

Agatha pursed her lips, pausing for a few seconds before continuing, "But Elma... her bloodline Ability was far weaker than mine. The best she could awaken was the ability to summon a small Star Realm serpent. And that’s not to mention that I also possessed a degree of Magic Talent, which allowed me to learn Arcane Magic."

"After that, it was like she was invisible, forgotten by the clan. The only time she was ever brought up was in connection to some new accomplishment or praise I had received."

"Not long after that, our father fell ill from his grief over our mother’s death and passed away. We were raised by relatives after that."

She reached out, slowly stroking the gingerbread man, her voice desolate. "That was when I began to understand what true malice felt like, what it meant for others to covet your bloodline, and what it meant to be seen as useless and worthy only of being thrown away. It was only then that I truly understood Elma’s situation."

Agatha sighed. "After that, I tried my best to mend our relationship, hoping to make up for the consequences of my own youthful ignorance. But unfortunately, it seemed to be no use. It continued until we came of age. With my excellent grades and Magic Talent, I was accepted into the Royal Grammar School, while Elma could only attend a very ordinary Church School."

"Not long after we saw each other again, I woke up in a forest on the outskirts of Plantagenet City." She squeezed the gingerbread half, her whole hand trembling. Yet, she controlled her strength, keeping the cookie from crumbling. "By then, I was already a Ghost Witch."