The Frog Prince and the Witch Chapter 19
Translated by MissQ (ko-fi)
Chapter 19: The Prince Who Found Contentment
As previously mentioned, Joanna’s home was not a place frequented by neighbors. Given that she held the title of "The Witch of the Wilderness," it was expected that she would reside in a remote or sparsely populated area. Consequently, her dwelling was located at the edge of the village, making it an unpopular spot among the locals.
Recently, however, it appeared that another person had taken up residence in her abode. Curiosity drew more villagers to pass by her house, wondering what sort of individual the aloof physician had brought home.
"Good morning, Aunt Susan."
"Good morning!" Susan replied cheerfully, the neighbor who lived closest to Joanna and thus the most frequent passerby. "Is Joanna up yet?"
Ian smiled, responding, "She got up earlier, but now that the sun has risen, she has gone back to sleep." Joanna's circadian rhythm was different from most; due to her sensitivity to sunlight, she preferred to stay indoors for her midday nap until the early evening. On the rare occasions when she felt energetic, she let down the curtains and read instead. At night, if she had taken an afternoon nap, she would be unusually alert, often staying awake until the middle of the night before going to bed. On days without a nap, however, she would retire soon after sunset. Regardless of when she fell asleep, though, Joanna always rose at dawn, just before the sun, and began her day.
"Let me tell you, young man, you should really convince her to eat more meat. She’s far too thin! The last time I shook hands with her, her palms felt icy! I usually encouraged others to reduce their meat intake, yet Joanna really needs to eat more meat. Are her hands still cold to the touch?"
"She’s still affected by chills, so I’m planning to buy some hand warmers to warm her hands up later," Ian replied, concern etching his features. "Do you know where I might find such things, Aunt Susan?"
"Of course I do!" she beamed, her eyes lighting up. "The village blacksmith is quite skilled. If you tell him what you need, he’d be more than willing to craft whatever you desire and to your taste!"
Aunt Susan seemed eager to continue their conversation, but Ian noticed the sky growing brighter and hurriedly interrupted her. "It’s already noon! Weren’t you warming a soup on your stovetop? I’m afraid Uncle might be waiting in the field for your delicious meal. The fire in the kitchen must be close to dying down, don’t you think? The soup won’t be any good if it gets cold."
Upon suddenly remembering her husband, Susan nodded hurriedly and departed, offering a few perfunctory remarks as she left.
Ian smiled and waved at the enthusiastic aunt, watching her retreating figure until it vanished from view. He bowed his head and continued to pile soil around the roots of a flowering plant. Once he was satisfied that the newly planted rose bushes were firmly secured, he slowly stood up and made his way toward the house.
Joanna possessed remarkable skill in her medical practice, his hands appeared no different from those of an ordinary person. Yet, she still gazed regretfully at the scars marring his skin, the ones that had lingered for so long they were impossible to remove, leaving them unsightly and unsettling to anyone who looked upon them. However, he only appeared normal. The time he spent imprisoned by that madwoman Vivian had left his body severely weakened. Had he undergone proper care afterward, he would have fully recovered, but a curse had befallen him. The internal injuries left untreated continued to fester, and even under Joanna's skilled treatment, he could never regain the strength he once possessed.
Joanna did not approve of his frequent outings to work, whether it was sweeping fallen leaves or tending to the garden, but still, he wanted to do something—for her, for this home. Besides... he missed the feeling of using his hands, even if he had to stop soon after, as his wrists would weaken and begin to tremble.
Like now, as he slowly stood up, not only were his hands shaking, but the muscles in his legs were twitching too... Though he appeared youthful, his body betrayed the frailty of an old man within.
"You went out again," Joanna's voice was cold, laden with frustration. She was angry with Ian for ignoring her repeated warnings. The man she had worked so hard to save was so careless with his own health, it made her feel like a fool—as though all her effort had been in vain.
"Don’t be angry, my Mistress." Ian knelt on one knee before her, lifting the back of her hand to plant a gentle kiss. "The roses have bloomed beautifully today; surely that brings you joy?"
Joanna, holding her umbrella beneath her cloak, cast a glance at Ian and huffed, "I was happy until I saw you in the garden. Now, come back to the house with me!"
"Yes, Mistress." He quickly rose and took hold of Joanna’s parasol, positioning it to shield her more effectively from the sun.
With a sidelong glance at him, Joanna began to walk back into the house, her pace seemingly brisk but occasionally slowing down. Ian couldn’t help but smile. He understood that, despite her sharp tone, Joanna's true feelings were rooted in concern for him. Her slowed pace was a clear sign that she was mindful of his injuries.
"If you truly wish to occupy yourself, why not help me braid those strings in the study? I have a sister from afar who’s ordered a hundred blessed bracelets. While I won’t be personally braiding them, I can still bestow the blessings after you finish. The effect may not be as potent as if I had crafted them myself, but I doubt she will mind."
"Okay~" Ian opened the door for her, carefully stowing the little parasol and hanging up her cloak before offering her a cup of water. "I hope you won’t find my craftsmanship too poor, Mistress."
"I certainly will," Joanna replied, having woken up only because of her thirst. After downing the water in one go, she tossed the cup back into Ian’s hands. "So you’d better do it well. If the weaving isn’t satisfactory, I’ll have you take it apart and start over!"
"As you command, my Mistress." After watching Joanna return to her room, Ian poured himself a glass of water and drank it—from the very cup she had just used.
It felt as if he had drawn a little closer to his goddess. His heart fluttered, as though a garden of flowers had bloomed within him. Lost in these thoughts, Ian couldn’t help but laugh joyfully to himself.