The Frog Prince and the Witch Chapter 20
Translated by MissQ (ko-fi)
Chapter 20: The Witch’s Doubts
Joanna began to notice that Ian exhibited peculiar behaviors when she wasn’t paying close attention.For instance, while she slumbered, he would clutch her cloak, bringing it to his nose to inhale deeply. Throughout the day, he would clutch it like a cherished treasure, even while struggling to weave the bracelets.
On another occasion, when Joanna was away, he sneaked into her room to lie on her bed, resting his head on her pillow and gathering her fallen hair. Although she did not feel repulsed by his actions, she was increasingly concerned. His obsession seemed to eclipse his own well-being.
If their relationship were akin to that of a parent and child, or even a husband and wife, she could understand such devotion. However, what was the nature of their bond? Joanna considered herself merely a landlady offering the troubled man a temporary sanctuary. Once her tenant departed, she expected that would be the end of their connection. Yet, it seemed that Ian harbored a different sentiment. She found herself wondering how he truly perceived their relationship.
Joanna had never put stock in the notion that "I will sacrifice all for my master." In her experience, servants were loyal only as long as the master provided conditions that warranted their fidelity. Once those conditions fell away—such as in the event of the master’s death—their loyalty would inevitably vanish. However, if a servant continued to honor their master through successive generations after that master’s demise, it ceased to be mere loyalty and transformed into something akin to faith. Such faith could bind a person to their beliefs, rendering them susceptible to manipulation by a master who might harbor malicious intent. The repercussions of such a dynamic could be catastrophic.
She had also considered another possibility. After all, not long ago, a madwoman had been so obsessed with Ian that she was willing to offer her soul to a demon just to possess him... But for her? Love? It wasn’t a matter of self-doubt; logically speaking, it seemed impossible.
Not only was her appearance unremarkable, but her penchant for wearing dark blue garments during the day also attracted disapproving glances. Most people viewed her with disdain, considering her anything but ordinary. Moreover, her unconventional sleeping patterns set her further apart. Add to that her notoriety as a witch who confined herself to a home filled with turtles, crows, and lizards while avoiding the sun, and it was evident that she was far from the ideal of desirability.
There were so many peculiar aspects to her existence that the villagers instinctively shunned her. If even the neighbors dared not draw near, how could any man possibly fall in love with someone as odd as her? Joanna’s mother had expressed her final regret before passing away: she wished she could have cured her daughter of the strange affliction that necessitated her avoidance of sunlight. Aware of the loneliness that came with such a condition, she feared that Joanna would never find a partner, let alone have children. Thus, she urged her daughter to seek out a child in the future, someone to whom she could pass on her knowledge as a witch.
Joanna's illness was an inherited trait, passed down from her great-grandmother and earlier ancestors. While not a dreadful disease, it rendered her skin overly sensitive to temperature fluctuations. The sun was her enemy, capable of burning her skin to a deep, painful shade of black instead of the desired tan. This led her to harbor envy toward the sun-kissed women who could revel in its warmth for hours, their healthy skin glowing and their smiles radiant as they basked in sunlight.
In stark contrast, she could only seek refuge beneath her small dark blue parasol, living a life shrouded in darkness. How, then, could Ian possibly love her? She dismissed the notion outright, leaning instead toward the belief that Ian had endured so much trauma that his actions stemmed not from love but from a misguided sense of faith or reverence.
As long as Ian's psychological well-being was addressed and he returned to a state of normalcy, Joanna would no longer hold any special significance in his life. At that point, he would be free to leave and reunite with his family. This realization left her feeling tangled and uncertain about how to heal his heart and mend the unseen emotional wounds he bore.
"Mistress?"
Ian's voice broke through her reverie, and Joanna refocused her gaze on the man kneeling beside her. His hands rested obediently on her lap, and he looked up at her with concern etched across his face. "Are you feeling unwell, Mistress? You seem to often drift off lately... Is there something troubling you?"
"I—I’m fine," she replied, though inwardly, she felt a storm of emotions swirling within her. Joanna couldn't help but notice how fond he seemed of kneeling before her, a position of both submission and devotion. She couldn’t help but scold him lightly, "Have you finished the bracelet? Your craftsmanship is truly terrible; none of the ones you made before were even presentable!"
"It’s my fault, Mistress…"
"Then why aren’t you hurrying?" Joanna huffed. "And don’t let me catch you in the garden, lifting those heavy flower pots again; I swear I’ll set those flowers ablaze, and you’ll have nothing left to plant!"
Though she was clearly scolding him, Ian laughed merrily. "Yes, my Mistress," he responded cheerfully.
Joanna couldn’t help but wonder why he could still laugh so openly, even when she spoke harshly.