Majo no Tabitabi - Volume 3 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Grape-Stomping Girls

It was the tenth year of a harvest festival held between two neighboring villages.

I heard that before the festival had become a tradition, the two villages would feud and quarrel over small matters. But now, no trace of their rivalry remained. In fact, the younger generations began viewing the two less as neighbors and more as one large community.

“Hey, Grandpa? Is our village really friendly with that one over there?”

However, this boy was a little skeptical about the friendship between the two villages—or one large village, as it were. The way he saw it, today’s harvest festival was only going to disrupt their amicable relationship.

The old man set a wooden crate full of grapes down in the middle of the road and lightly tapped on his lower back.

“Why are you worried about us holding the festival?”

“Hmm…”

“Hoh-hoh-hoh… We hold it to remind us of our friendship, you know!”

“Huh? But…”

The boy peered into the crate of grapes. The recently picked fruit sparkled vibrantly in the sunlight. There were any number of similar crates placed along either side of the narrow, short road that separated the two villages—too many to count. All in preparation for the main event of the harvest festival.

The people from each village would grab the grapes from the crates and throw them back and forth, until they were stained with the juice. It was a wasteful event.

The ostensible pretense for the festival was to pray that this year’s harvest would be as bountiful as the grape juice stains on their clothes, but the participants were awfully barbaric.

For example, at the previous year’s festival, a young man from one village poured grapes over the head of a girl from the other village as retaliation for dumping him. In another case, a couple living in the same village smeared each other’s faces while verbally abusing a third person and yelling about the grievances that had piled up over the course of their daily lives.

For some reason, the locals who lived amicably for the majority of the year underwent a sudden change on this day and acted like they were possessed by demons.

It got so bad that the relationship between the villages always seemed as if it would break down. Remarkably, though, whenever the festival ended, everything went back to the way it was before—except for the juice-stained road—and the villagers would return to their peaceful lives.

It probably served as a way of periodically letting off steam. Holding such a wild harvest event was probably the key to keeping the friendship between the two villages alive.

The boy already understood that well enough.

He was all the more skeptical for it.

If they were really on good terms, they wouldn’t need to hold such an event in the first place, would they?

“Your suspicions are correct. Our two villages aren’t exactly the best of friends. Ordinarily, we do many things to irritate each other, and both sides consider the folks living down the road rivals, at best.”

“So why have a festival like this?”

“That’s exactly why. By throwing grapes at each other, we can let out all our pent-up frustration. We’re not bosom buddies by any means. There simply came a day when we found the courage to be honest with each other. That day was ten years ago.”

“Hmm…”

“Come to think of it, I’ve never told you the story of what happened ten years ago, have I? Well, would you like to hear it?”

“I would! Please, tell me!”

The old man stared off into the sky. The wide, empty expanse, without a trace of birdsong, was the same as always, and exactly as it had been for the past decade.

“That day, ten years ago…a traveler came to our village.”

“Oh?”

Ah, this is gonna be a long story for sure, the boy realized immediately.

He thought that if it was going to drag on, he would have liked for the old man to wait until they got home to tell it.

“That traveler was a young witch with long, flowing, ash-colored hair. She was truly an angel, but she had a devilish side, too.”

“Hmm.”

“The day that mysterious witch came to our village became a day we would never forget…”

Then the old man told the story.

The story of what happened on that day, ten years ago.

An angelic witch, who seemed like a devil when you looked closely enough, was in the middle of her journey.

Who could she be?

That’s right. She’s me.

“……”

Her setting was a tranquil country road.

The clear, light blue sky stretched out into the distance, hanging there, pristine and tranquil, without so much as birdsong to disturb the peace. The small road that passed between the green fields was the color of naked earth and ran between the two villages I could see up ahead.

I was flying on my broom, following the winding road. The frequent, gentle breezes that blew down it brushed past me, giving me a chill whenever I picked up speed.

Feeling just right, I took a deep breath and fixed my gaze ahead.

There I saw two small towns standing side by side. To the rest of the world, these wonderful little communities were known as the wine villages.

“Welcome, Madam Witch! Oh, you couldn’t have picked a better day to visit us! Please come in, come in. Our chieftain is most eager to welcome you.”

I received a very warm welcome when I arrived at the first of the villages.

People poured from their houses, smiling happily when they got a peek at my face.

I also received a warm greeting at the home of the village chieftain, where a not-quite-elderly man was joyfully clapping his hands. “Hoh-hoh-hoh! Well, aren’t you just precious!”

Did he just call me cute?

“Thank you, thank you. I know, I know.” I didn’t understand why I was suddenly being praised, so for the time being, I just smiled and nodded.

Whenever I don’t know what’s going on, I just put on a vague smile and things usually work themselves out. This is my secret to success.

Anyway…

“This village is famous for its wine, right?”

“Indeed. Grape wine is our village’s specialty. Say…you’re quite young, but I suppose you like wine, don’t you?”

“Mm…”

I’ve honestly never had it. I actually came because I heard the wine is supposed to be incredibly delicious.

I figured that if I was going to go out of my way to try wine for the first time, I ought to try the best I could find.

“The wine produced here has an incredibly lovely flavor, to be sure. It’s a taste beyond compare! The output of the neighboring village certainly doesn’t come close. Our wine is fit for the gods themselves.”

“Wow.”

Incidentally, I’d heard, “The taste of what either village has to offer is largely the same. Neither is particularly unique.” There was probably some difference that only a local could detect, though.

“But our neighbors are stubborn, you see, and don’t want to be outdone by us, so recently, they’ve started doing something new! Something outrageous!”

“Oh?”

“They’ve started producing this!”

Wham!

The village chieftain slammed a single wine bottle down on the table.

The label affixed to it read, A WINE OF EXCEPTIONAL QUALITY, SURPASSING EVEN THE WINES FROM FIVE YEARS AGO, WHEN WE BOASTED OUR BEST HARVEST. It was impossible to tell anything about the actual flavor from such a vague description. The label gave the name as WINE FROM THAT VILLAGE.

That Village? What’s that supposed to mean?

“By the way, the name of our village is This Village.”

So it’s the name? I see.

Instead of focusing on that stupid bit of information, what interested me most was something in the middle of the label.

It was the smiling face of a girl with wavy blond hair.

“I squish-squashed these grapes with love,” said her speech balloon. Accompanying it was a description—ORIGIN: ROSEMARIE, ONE OF THAT VILLAGE’S WINE-STOMPING MAIDENS.

“……Um, what’s this?”

When I asked, the village chieftain loudly slammed a fist on the table.

“This! This is That Village’s desperate ploy. They know they can’t beat us, so they’ve resorted to this! Look at little Rosemarie there on the label! Listing Rosemarie as the ‘origin’! What are those folks up to?!”

“She’s less of an origin and more of a maker, right?”

“Listing her as the ‘origin’ rather than the ‘winemaker’ gets certain buyers more…excited.”

“……”

Excited?

“In other words, by selling products that appeal to a…very particular taste…That Village’s wine sales are shooting through the roof!”

“Ohh…”

So it sells?

This kind of thing seriously sells?

“Because of this, we find ourselves in quite a predicament. We’re really struggling!”

“But isn’t this the same wine, just with a different label? I mean, does it even taste good?”

“…I w-wouldn’t know, I’ve n-never drunk any.”

But you’re shaking, aren’t you? You’ve had it, haven’t you?

I mean, if you look closely, the bottle is empty, isn’t it? You drank it all, didn’t you?

“Of course. Wine squish-squashed by a cute girl would surely be delicious…”

“By the way, what is ‘squish-squashing’?”

“In our village, the girls who stomp the grapes with their feet call the act ‘squish-squashing.’”

“Huh…” What’s with this weird, weird obsession? “Well then, why don’t you try competing by having cute girls squish-squash your grapes, too?”

My proposed solution was vague and a little lazy. I thought it would abruptly end this conversation before it could head in an even more uncomfortable direction.

Once again, I utilized my secret to success.

“A wonderful suggestion!”

However, at that point, the village chieftain struck the table with both hands and leaned toward me.

“That’s exactly it! We can beat them if we have squish-squashing maidens even more charming than theirs!”

“H-huh…?”

“What I mean is…you! You can do it for us!”

“…Hmm?”

“The plan requires an especially captivating maiden, right?”

“…Hmmm?”

“So it has to be you. You’re the only one for the job!”

“…Hmmmm?”

What?

I really didn’t think my secret to success would backfire so spectacularly.

“Everyone! Listen up! This witch is going to be our grape-stomping maiden this year!”

The chieftain flew out of the house immediately, shouting to the people gathered in the center of town.

As soon as his words reached them, they threw up their hands and cheered.

“What did he say?!” “It’s sure to go great if it’s this witch!” “Chief…I want to drink wine stomped by girls!” “I’m sick of wine that was squish-squashed by old ladies!” “Chief! I bought the latest batch of Rosemarie’s wine. Want a swig?” “To think we’re going to get such a cute witch to stomp grapes for us!” “Hooray!”

……

No, no, no, no.

“Um, I haven’t actually agreed to anything, though.”

“Everyone! The witch is very enthusiastic!”

I’m not enthusiastic! My enthusiasm is nonexistent!

“Umm, this is quite difficult for me to tell you, but—”

“All right, everyone! Dump our whole harvest into a huge bucket and bring it here! We’ll make her stomp until she drops!”

Uh-oh, you’ve showed your hand.

I’m outta here.

With that, I turned on my heel, threw my bag over my shoulder, and started walking.

The villagers were already running around, preparing bucket after bucket. They were way too excited about forcing me to squash grapes.

I don’t know about that.

Suddenly, they were ignoring me. As happy as they were, the locals were focused entirely on their preparations, so it seemed like an ideal moment to sneak off. If necessary, I could also always make a quick getaway on my broom.

I started strolling away, but…

“Goodness! Look at all the people from old, obsolete This Village! Whatever could you all be up to? Hmm?”

Unbelievably, someone was blocking my escape.

A blond girl whom I had seen somewhere before brought her hand to her mouth in a spiteful manner. And as she did, she eyed the villagers with naked contempt. She had the aura of a boss or a queen and had many burly men lined up behind her, hauling a cart.

“Y-you’re…Rosemarie!”

“How do you do, Chief? What might you be doing here?”

“It has nothing to do with you! I should be the one asking questions! What are you all doing here?! We’re in This Village!”

The chieftain had put on a threatening air, but I could see he was still clutching the wine bottle that listed Rosemarie as its origin. Clearly, he was just posturing.

Rosemarie snorted. “Humph, I just came to sell some wine. I’ve got many carts full. I always tell you to leave the road open, since we’ll be passing by for a while. Why are you all in such an uproar?”

“You’re…making fools of us…!”

“Oh? What’s that bottle you’re gripping in your hand?”

“……”

The chieftain hid the evidence immediately.

If you looked closely, it even had Rosemarie’s signature on it.

He must be quite the fan!

“Also, who is this shrimpy little girl, and why’s she dressed up in some sort of witch costume?”

How rude!

“I look like this because I’m a real witch.”

After casting a fleeting glance my way, Rosemarie turned back to face the chieftain. “Oh. Hmm.” She seemed to have realized something as she looked over the villagers and their wine-making preparations. Her expression turned sour. “I see. You can’t beat me, so you’re planning to use this shabby girl to squish-squash your grapes? Oh-ho.”

“Did you say ‘shabby’?”

“Her face is questionable, too. Not to mention, she has the body of a little kid.”

“Questionable? Little kid?”

“Yeah, you look just like a child. You all realize you can’t beat me by making a child like this squish-squash your grapes, don’t you?”

“……”

I’m getting annoyed.

Imagine being openly mocked by someone you just met.

“Well, give it your best shot. We’re off to squish-squash a new batch, so if you’ll excuse us—step aside, Miss Shabby Witch.”

“……”

Oh-ho. I can’t possibly stay silent after hearing her mouth off at me like that.

“I’m Elaina. My name is Elaina.” I took a step forward and glared at Rosemarie’s smug face. “Remember it.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me? I said get out of my sight.”

Her expression didn’t change in the least, and that was all she said. It was a perfectly triumphant attitude. Even though we weren’t competing, Rosemarie’s face seemed to say she would never have considered me as competition anyway.

…How irritating.

I guess I’ve got no choice but to crush her.

In the end, I got so worked up that I agreed to cooperate with them and become the grape-stomping maiden for This Village.

Sure, it was my decision, but…

“Why the costume?”

According to the village chieftain, the maiden doing the stomping had to don a certain outfit…apparently.

It consisted of a frilly, wine-red skirt and a long-sleeved top of the same color. The wrists of the top were also decorated with frills, and it looked like nothing so much as an all-red maid’s uniform.

Why on earth do I have to wear an outfit like this?

According to the chieftain, it made the product more exciting. I couldn’t understand his reasoning.

“All right, go on and squish-squash the grapes, Miss Witch.”

“……”

It was clear my long hair would be troublesome while stomping wine, so after tying it into a bun, I placed a bare foot into the bucket of fruit.

“By the way, how should I stomp them?”

“It would be best if you could really pour your love into it.”

“……”

And what am I supposed to do when I have no love to invest, huh?

“For the time being, I’ll pour in all my hate for Rosemarie.”

“That would be stomping! You have to squish-squash!”

I ignored him.

“…Okay!” I then grabbed the hem of the skirt in both hands, lifted it to my knee, and brought my foot down into the bucket.

The light green grapes that filled it felt chilly on the bottoms of my feet. Using my weight, I smushed the grapes until they could no longer withstand the pressure and squirted their juice. A thick, sweet scent seeped out from under my sole. I lifted my leg to escape the wet slurry, but as there was no escape, I once again brought my foot down onto the gross grape mash. The more I stomped, the more the shredded grape skins wound themselves around my toes.

Crush, squeeze, and crush again. The round, soft feeling gradually gave way to a strange sensation like stepping on wet sand.

It felt a little gross, but somehow, I quickly grew accustomed to the odd experience To be honest, it was actually quite thrilling.

“Die…die…die…die…!”

That’s why I was so enthusiastic.

The villagers watching me were snapping photos left and right and raising shouts of joy. I think my angry expletives were probably also directed at the villagers, who were taking photos just as they pleased.

Eventually, my legs became sloppy with grape juice. The villagers were livelier than I care to mention, and I was quickly getting stressed out.

I eventually got so frazzled that I just zoned out and stomped grapes single-mindedly.

“……”

How difficult it must be for Rosemarie, forced to do this every day.

She has to stomp grapes while carrying the hopes and dreams of the people of That Village on her shoulders.

……

Then again, her troubles and how nasty she was to me don’t exactly cancel each other out…

“…I’m exhausted.”

After trampling for some time, I took a brief break at the village chieftain’s house. According to the chieftain, the villagers wanted me to stomp grapes again after resting. He said they wanted to produce a huge quantity of wine, since this was a one-time thing.

“Oh, great work, Miss Witch. Here, have a look. Here’s one of the bottles we’re going to put the wine you made into.”

He placed a bottle before me.

Top-Quality Wine from This Village

I made this with all my hatred and irritation.

ORIGIN: THE ASHEN WITCH ELAINA

So read the label, on which was printed a photo of me stomping the grapes with a hateful grin on my face.

“…Can you sell it like this?”

I feel like no one’s going to buy it.

“We thought This Village would use a different plan of attack than That Village. Over there, they’re selling Rosemarie’s beauty, but here, we decided it would be best to completely remove that element and use an alternate approach.”

“……”

“It ought to be a big hit with the right customer.”

“Is everyone who buys wine a huge pervert or something?”

“Well, when they’re buying Rosemarie’s wine, yeah, probably.”

“……”

What’s so great about getting drunk off wine that was stomped by a girl? I really don’t see the appeal. It’s giving me a headache just thinking about it, so let’s cut off this topic of conversation here.

“By the way, roughly how much wine can you make from the amount I crushed?”

“Let me see…probably about half a cask.”

“Huh? That’s so little!”

I thought I stomped way more than that.

“That’s why we’d like to get you to stomp the remaining half.”

Honestly, it’s such a pain.

However, if I were to give up at this point, I just knew that Rosemarie would delight in mocking me. “Aha!” she would say. “So you quit, just as expected! It’s like I said, the job of a grape-stomping maiden—stomping and stomping endlessly—is no easy task for an amateur!”

Hmm.

……

“…Hmm?” At that point, it suddenly hit me. “Um, Chief, that bottle…the one that you’re clutching even now, like your life depends on it—just how many of those are being sold?”

The village chieftain lovingly stroked the bottle as he replied, “A great deal of them. That Village has grown very prosperous selling wine that’s all made by Rosemarie.”

“All of it…?”

Which must mean that she spends every day, from morning to night, stomping grapes.

……

Wait.

Those numbers seem a bit off.

Everything about it seems off.

“……”

After thinking about it a little bit, I had one thing to say.

“Hey, Chief…how long until break time ends?”

After that, I left the village chieftain’s house and, still wearing my grape-stomping-maiden outfit, put on my shoes and ran to That Village.

I had several suspicions about this situation.

They had devised such a simple trick that it was a total mystery how not a single person from This Village had realized it, even this late in the game.

Following the numerous wheel ruts carved into the road, I kept running toward That Village.

One of my misgivings was those wheels.

It seemed like Rosemarie was selling the wine herself, with the help of some men, but why would she lend a hand with sales if she was also shouldering the whole burden of stomping the grapes?

It was even stranger still that all the wine from That Village would be produced by Rosemarie.

Just how many grapes would she have to stomp to produce enough to allow an entire village to flourish? How long would that take?

How did she even have the free time to sell bottles herself?

Surely it was impossible for a single person to produce all of it.

“……”

To put it simply—

“Oh-hoh-hoh… Come on, keep up the pace for all our sakes, you idiots! You want to sell wine with my label on it, don’t you? Then move it!”

The wheel ruts led to a single warehouse.

Brawny men were guarding the entrance, but I easily put them to sleep with a spell and cracked the door slightly.

Inside, I could hear a voice that sounded like Rosemarie’s. I saw her relaxing in a chair, arms crossed, swirling a wineglass with one hand.

She was there, lounging as I had expected.

“…I knew it.”

She wasn’t a grape-stomping maiden at all. She wasn’t stomping anything.

So who was producing the wine?

“Heave-ho! Let’s go! Heave-ho! Let’s go! Heave-ho! Let’s go!”

The answer was very simple. One look, and it was immediately clear.

The burly men who had been pulling the carts were the ones doing the squish-squashing. The men were dripping with sweat as they crushed the grapes, and the resulting wine… Well, this was the true identity of the wine produced by Rosemarie.

In other words, she was a fraud.

“……”

This is grounds for litigation!

“That’s not right! It was only for today! Today, just by chance, I didn’t feel up to it! Usually, I’m squish-squashing grapes from morning until night!”

After tying them all up with rope on the spot, I dragged Rosemarie and the men out to the single road between That Village and This Village.

Perhaps realizing that something was amiss when they saw her and the men tied up, the people from This Village gathered around, still holding the grapes they had been preparing for stomping. The people from That Village also gathered around very nervously, grapes in hand, when they saw that Rosemarie and her men had been captured.

It seemed the people of That Village already knew that Rosemarie’s grape wine was being made by ordinary, sweaty men.

“Shoot…we were finally found out, huh?” “Gah…and it was selling so well, too…” “Hey, what are we gonna do?”

I could hear everything they were saying.

I cleared my throat, then gently swirled the wineglass I had seized from Rosemarie, and let out a sigh at the sweet smell that wafted up.

“So, Miss Rosemarie, I find it quite strange that you could cover all the wine production for That Village by yourself. The numbers clearly don’t add up, and there’s no way you should have the free time to help with sales, too.”

“…No, well, that’s, how should I say…um…” Rosemarie was stammering incoherently.

“And what’s worse, Rosemarie, how can you drink this wine, which you forced these men to produce, like it’s so delicious? Don’t you feel the least bit guilty?”

“Oh, not really. I drink the stuff that I squish-squashed a long while ago.”

“The stuff? A long while ago?”

“…Crap.”

“……”

And there we have it.

I brought the wine to my mouth.

“…What is the meaning of this?! In other words, that’s…? This! Rosemarie’s wine is…! Are you telling me those filthy men are the ones who squish-squashed it?!”

The chieftain of This Village was shouting with rage in his voice. A short while later, the other villagers began making a fuss, too. The agitation of the people of That Village gradually infected them.

“…Tch. What’s a little production fraud? You annoying fools…” Rosemarie murmured.

“Hey, I heard that! Sure enough, this little girl’s been making fools of us!”

“…Humph. And here I thought you were a fan.”

“This wine and that wine are different! I only bought from That Village’s in the first place because I thought that you had squish-squashed the grapes, Rosemarie!”

“That’s creepy.”

Extremely creepy!

The village chieftain didn’t seem to think so, though, and was red in the face like a drunk. “It’s not creepy! Don’t joke around, missy!”

He snatched a handful of grapes from a nearby villager and threw them at Rosemarie. Most of them hit her dead on. The few that missed hit the burly men beside her or me, splattering us all with juice.

“…Huh?” Why do I have to sustain damage, too?

Seeing Rosemarie soaked with juice stoked the fires of rage within the residents of That Village.

“Hey, you! What are you doing to Rosemarie?!” “Stop screwing around, old man!” “Die!” The people of That Village did as the village chieftain had done and threw grapes at the people of This Village.

From that point, the situation quickly devolved. Trapping Rosemarie, myself, and the burly men in the middle of the road between them, the residents of That Village and This Village began pelting grapes at one another.

I’m sure they were attempting to target the opposing village. However, every missed throw hit us directly, since we were stuck between them. It was a mess.

“……”

Why did I have to get caught up in all this?

I took another sip of wine.

Ah, it is delicious.

“…What should we do about this?”

“……”

We were soon completely soaked with juice.

My irritation swelled with every burst grape until I didn’t care about anything anymore. The blood was rushing to my head, and before I knew it, I had my wand out.

I felt a little hot, and I was probably getting a bit drunk.

“…Hoh-hoh! Oh-hoh-hoh! So that’s how it’s gonna be…? Everyone’s dead set on making a fool outta me?”

Then I waved my wand.

I focused all my magic and flung the fruit that flew at me back where it had come from, increasing the velocity tenfold. Taking sip after sip of wine, I mercilessly peppered the residents of both This Village and That Village with grapes like bullets.

“Ha-ha! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Well now, who on earth could this girl be, laughing like a demon as she rains unbridled fury over the villagers?

That’s right. She’s me.

Well then.

I was later told about the incident, but the truth is, I had no memory of it. Though I think I can be certain of the fact that such a debacle did occur.

I awoke with a headache beneath a dazzlingly bright blue sky, and when I sat up, I saw the fallen people from both villages covered in grapes and a bewildered Rosemarie muttering to herself with tears in her eyes, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I asked the frightened girl what had happened and learned of the scene I had caused. The fact is that my memories abruptly cut off after I had hauled her out of the warehouse and that, when I came to, I was beneath the blue sky. Looking at the present condition of things, though, it seemed certain that, just as she said, there had been a grape fight.

“…Ugh. My head hurts. It feels like it’s splitting open.”

I stood up, cradling my head, and staggered toward the village chieftain’s house.

There was no way I could stomp grapes while I was in this much pain. Well, since all of the villagers were out cold and covered in grape bits, I had no reason to. Plus, there weren’t any grapes left. They were all smashed on the ground.

Let’s hurry up and get out of here while everyone except Rosemarie is unconscious.

……

They would probably hate me no matter how many grapes I stomped, and I was sure I had done plenty to deserve their scorn, even if I couldn’t remember anything.

Well, I should have been happy that I got out of doing something annoying.

“…My head hurts.”

After changing clothes at the village chieftain’s house, I got on my broom and flew off, still reeking of grapes.

My first experience drinking alcohol had left me with nothing but a terrible headache and some hazy memories.

“Since then, every year around this time, our two villages throw grapes at each other.”

“Huh. Sorry, Grandpa. Why did your story end that way?”

The old man said matter-of-factly, “The grape fight we had back then was surprisingly fun, so our two villages came to do this every year around harvest time as a way to relieve stress. And when we do, I don’t know why, but our grape harvest increases, and our wine production goes up.”

“Wow…” After nodding several times, the boy tilted his head. “Ah, hey. So whatever happened to Rosemarie…?”

“Oh, she’s the Rosemarie who stomps grapes in That Village. After the incident, she finally went back to doing her own work, I hear. What a good girl.”

“And she’s still the grape-stomping maiden?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t she in her thirties?”

“She’s aging like a fine wine.”

“……”

The old man couldn’t hold back his tears at the sad reality of what had happened to Rosemarie.

“Well, that’s the story of the tradition our two villages have upheld for the past decade.”

The boy nodded in understanding, then cocked his head again. “By the way, Grandpa, what’s with that wine bottle you’re holding?”

It was different than the one the chieftain had been clutching in the story.

Top Quality Wine from This Village

I made this with all my hatred and irritation.

ORIGIN: THE ASHEN WITCH ELAINA

So read the label, on which was printed a picture of a girl stomping grapes with a hateful grin on her face.

“Oh, this? This here…this is wine made by the witch from the story I just told you.”

“You’re not going to drink it?”

“That’s right. It would be a waste.”

An immeasurably wicked smile and an adorable face. That, plus the image of her actually stomping the grapes, made the wine sell for an absurd sum, yet for some reason, people still bought it.

In the end, the Ashen Witch’s grape wine, marketed as a top-quality vintage, had sold out in a flash.

Reasoning that it would be a waste of a one-time opportunity not to get one, the village chieftain had quietly purchased a bottle. Even now, he takes good care of it, not daring to actually drink the wine. They say he treasures that bottle above all else.

As for the current status of that particular vintage, owing to its traditional craft and limited production run, it is seldom found in the hands of any but the most avid enthusiasts and carries an exceptional price tag.