The Frog Prince and the Witch Chapter 10
Translated by MissQ (ko-fi)
Chapter 10: The Curse-Wielding Witch
Three days later, the old woman returned, her expression filled with embarrassment. In her hands was a parcel containing several leather-bound books, many of which bore Ian’s own past writings. Joanna appeared particularly pleased with the contents, savoring his words as she skimmed through the pages.
After finishing the last of the books, Joanna stood up and reached for the parasol hanging by the door. “It’s a good day to step out—cloudy skies keep the sun at bay,” she remarked coolly before turning her gaze to the old woman. “You should lead the way. I trust you know where your son is.”
“Yes, of course,” the old woman replied, her voice laced with gratitude. She hurriedly rushed to open the door for the witch, then led the way with eager steps.
Croak! Croak! Ian began croaking loudly, trying to catch Joanna’s attention. She glanced back and saw the little frog had leapt in front of her, firmly biting her skirt as if pleading with her not to leave him behind.
"Do you want to come along, little frog?" Joanna asked, amusement playing at the corners of her lips. At her question, Ian slowly released her skirt, looking up at her with wide eyes, then smiled despite himself. Her soft tone and the prospect of being by her side coaxed him out of his earlier fear.
Noting his enthusiasm, the maiden raised her hand in a gentle wave, and to Ian’s astonishment, a small pouch materialized out of thin air. It was the first time he had witnessed her use magic, and seeing her conjure something so effortlessly left him momentarily frozen in awe.
“Sorry, you must bear with this for now,” Joanna murmured as she delicately placed Ian into the small pouch. “There are so many people out today, what if they were to see you and cause trouble. So, for now, you’ll stay in the bag… Oh! I nearly forgot the damp hand towel to keep you moisturized—just a moment.”
Once everything was properly arranged, the old woman donned her cloak and led the way, while Joanna, a young lady of refined appearance, followed close behind. Their pairing was curious, but no one paid it much mind. Joanna’s full attire and the delicate parasol she carried gave her the air of a cultured, albeit distant, lady. Few could guess that in her handbag was a small frog, peeking out every now and then to take in the sights of the bustling street.
The two women walked through the village, eventually seeking a carriage to carry them to the next town. Upon arrival, the old woman guided them to a secluded corner where a small crowd had gathered. Their low murmurs and intense focus circled around a modest table, where the flipping of cards dictated their whispers.
“Go and call out to your son,” Joanna instructed.
The old woman hesitated but nodded, approaching her son to place a hand on his shoulder, ready to pull him away. However, Joanna shook her head, saying, “No, stand beside him and call out. It doesn’t matter how many times you have to shout; just ensure he turns around and looks back at you.”
“Is it really that simple?” The old woman regarded her skeptically.
Joanna nodded firmly, her expression unyielding.
“Anyone who responds to your call shall be cursed by me, the Witch of the Wilderness. From that moment on, he will suffer from severe abdominal pain and diarrhea whenever he touches a gambling item. It will feel as though his fingers have been crushed, causing him agony that reaches his heart and brings tears to his eyes. This curse will cling to him until he lies beneath the earth.”
Upon hearing Joanna's words, the old woman quickly grasped the witch's intentions. She began to call out for her son, who stubbornly remained at the table. Frustrated, the middle-aged man finally turned around and yelled at his old mother, but his annoyance shifted to astonishment when he saw the Witch of the Wilderness standing before him.
Suddenly, a fierce stomachache gripped him, causing him to collapse to the ground. The surrounding gamblers stood up in irritation, kicking him aside in disgust.
“My stomach… my hand! It hurts!” he cried, curling up in agony as tears streamed down his face.
The old woman, filled with concern, turned to call out to Joanna. However, the fear of incurring the witch's wrath held her back. Joanna, maintaining her calm demeanor, said, “Go and drag your son over here. It’s too noisy next to that crowd for him to hear my words.”
The unhappy middle-aged man squatted before the witch, meeting her cold gaze.
“Listen closely and don’t be a fool who worries his mother. You must steer clear of gambling, just as you learned to stop cheating on women. This pain will follow you for a lifetime—once you indulge in gambling, the suffering will only intensify, and before you know it, you could die from it.”
Joanna couldn't tell if the man grasped her words, but once she finished speaking, she felt her task was accomplished. She turned to the old woman and said, “This is the best solution I can offer. However, it must be noted that if your son chooses to gamble despite the risk of death, then the consequences are his to bear. This is beyond my control.” Should the old woman retaliate in anger, calling for the extermination of witches, Joanna vowed she would not be polite in return. She knew how to deal with such threats.
The old woman nodded quickly, her fear evident as she watched the cold witch depart.
Meanwhile, the frog nestled in the handbag reflected on the day he had been cursed. Witches—did they truly only know how to curse?