Ruby's gaze fell on a small, cute bakery nearby. The cakes on display were simple yet adorable, decorated with pastel colors and delicate designs. Even though she wasn't a huge fan of sweets, she couldn't resist the occasional treat, and today, the urge for something sweet tugged at her.
The vendor behind the counter was a short ghost with long, black hair tied back in a ponytail, held together by a rubber band with fluffy pom-poms. His ears sported diamond stud piercings, and his dark eyes soon noticed Ruby standing there.
Ruby's memory kicked in, reminding her of a local custom: if a ghost had gold or diamond ear piercings, it meant they came from a rich or well-off family.
As she approached the bakery to see cakes, the vendor's expression soured instantly.
He shot her a sharp glare, muttering under his breath, "Urgh! What bad luck. I hate drunken witches like her. Because of witches like her, innocent ghosts are too scared to walk alone at night."
Ruby caught every word. She stopped, her eyebrows knitting in irritation. "Excuse me?" she said sharply. Although the original Ruby was lazy and alcoholic, she never bothered ghosts or harbored any interest in them—only in alcohol, her one true love.
The ghost, clearly startled, snapped back in panic. "You—You're staring at me lustfully! I feel uncomfortable. Leave before I call for help!"
Ruby stared at him blankly, her patience wearing thin. "Should I call you blind, then? Which one of your eyeballs saw me staring at you lustfully? Either you're blind or just plain crazy," she retorted, her voice cold and firm.
The ghost's face turned pale, but before Ruby could even react, he began shouting, "Help! Help! This witch is trying to take advantage of me!" His voice was loud, panicked, and full of false terror.
Ruby blinked, utterly baffled by his sudden outburst.
"That's so unfair..."
she muttered, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming. She hadn't even touched him, but now a crowd of ghosts and two witches had gathered around her, blocking any chance of escape.
One ghost, eyes flashing with anger, stepped forward and yelled, "Seeing an independent ghost alone, you're trying to take advantage of him! I've heard about you—you're just a poor, alcoholic witch! How dare you!"
Another witch, with average features and a fake air of elegance, chimed in, "Yes, as a witch, you should maintain your dignity and respect all ghosts. You tried to take advantage of a pretty ghost, and that's shameful."
Ruby had had enough. "Shut up!" she shouted, glaring at the bakery ghost who was now cowering. Despite his guilty look, he still seemed convinced that he was in the right, blaming her supposed reputation as an alcoholic.
"Beat her! Witches like her don't understand polite language!" an angry ghost screamed from the back, spurring the others on. The crowd began to close in on Ruby, arms raised to strike, their voices filled with rage.
The bakery vendor, whose name was Emil, watched with guilt creeping into his expression. He hadn't intended for things to escalate this far, and his earlier panic was now turning into regret. "Don't beat her..." he said in a small, hesitant voice, but it was drowned out by the chaos.
Ruby's eyes hardened as she was pushed to her limit. In a swift, sharp movement, she shoved the nearest ghosts back with both hands, catching one ghost's wrist in her grip and twisting the arm of another. "I don't have time for this nonsense," she growled.
The crowd fell silent, stunned by Ruby's sudden show of strength. A few murmurs rippled through the group, but no one dared to move closer.
"Lowly witch," someone muttered.
Her expression remained cold and unbothered, her crystal-red eyes dark and intense like blood. Her lips curled into a dangerous smile as she spoke, her voice low and smooth. "I hate when people jump to conclusions without knowing anything." Her aura was sharp, and her presence felt overwhelming as she turned her gaze to Emil, who was cowering behind the crowd.
"Did I say anything to you?" she asked, her voice slicing through the silence.
Emil's face turned even paler, and he shook his head frantically.
"Did I stare at you lustfully? Tell the truth," Ruby demanded, her eyes boring into him.
Emil hesitated, first shaking his head, then nodding nervously. "Y-You were staring at me," he stammered, his voice shaking.
Ruby chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers through Emil. For some reason, he felt like he was standing in front of someone far superior, not just some slum-dwelling witch.
"Staring at you is considered lustful? God, bless you, little ghost. I wasn't even interested in you," Ruby said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I was staring at the pastries and cakes. And why would I need to stare at you when I have prettier, cuter, and more handsome husbands waiting for me at home, hmm?"
The crowd was silent, embarrassment and discomfort spreading among them as they realized how quickly they had judged her. Ruby's intense gaze swept over each of them before she raised her brow mockingly. "Nothing to say now, huh? Well, let me take my leave. Perhaps a 'lowly witch' like me is polluting the air for all you high-class people."
With a final scornful smile, she flicked her robe and turned, walking away with her back straight and her steps confident. As she made her way to the other side of the market, she glanced at the clock—1:35 PM.
"Wasted too much time," Ruby muttered to herself, feeling the sting of frustration as she walked away. The whispers and sneers from the crowd echoed in her mind—Lowly witch. alcoholic witch.
The words hurt, more than she wanted to admit. She wasn't immune to the judgment; it stung to be seen as worthless. But rather than breaking her, it only fueled her determination.
She clenched her fists, eyes burning with determination. She needed to get her hands on money as soon as possible. The debts loomed over her like a shadow, 200 gems owed to two people. If she won the race, she could pay them off instantly and still have 300 gems left—a fortune in this place, where the average witch's salary was barely 20 gems a month.
Money would change everything. It would elevate her status, silence the. insults, and prove her worth.
After all, money spoke louder than words—it defined a person's value. And Ruby was ready to rewrite hers.
—To be continued...🪄