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Is It Weird For A Guy To Apply To A Witch School Chapter 48

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Is It Weird For A Guy To Apply To A Witch School Chapter 48

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After calming my mood, I continued with my tasks.

I unplugged my old phone from Little Workhorse.

It had served its purpose.

I wasn’t about to let it waste more magic power after all, the electricity came from converted magic.

With a trace of nostalgia, I idly swiped through it, until muscle memory led me to open my notes app.

The diary entries appeared before my eyes.

One by one, they unfolded.

August 25, Sunny: This is my first time writing a diary.

December 29, Rain: A call from the counselor.

I thought it was about the make-up exam, but no.

January 18, Sunny: The day passed just like that.

Everything seemed reasonable.

At 11:25, I finished crying.

No one saw.

Good.

I picked myself up and carried on.

October 20, Rain: When I wrote this, I instinctively checked the calendar.

But it shouldn’t be like this.

Today should be my birthday.

I should know that better than anyone.

I looked at the entries, scattered and varied, recording big and small moments.

I was a transmigrator, my mind matured long ago, but this was life.

It didn’t care if you were an adult or mature.

The further I read, the less I remembered.

Memory worked that way, unhappy things should be forgotten.

My brain knew that better than my consciousness.

I liked a line from my diary:

“I hope that in the future I will read this diary and be completely confused. That’ll prove I’ve forgotten it, right?”

Exactly.

But though the diary was recorded, my mind had gaps.

Sometimes I regretted writing it.

Every time I saw these entries, I knew I’d suffered indescribable pain back then, yet I couldn’t recall it.

It was like a hole had been forcibly carved out of my memory.

Peering into that hole, I saw nothing, only felt endless fear.

“Alright, it’s all over.”

I scrolled to the first diary entry.

The order in the notes app was messed up, sometimes edits pushed entries to the top but I didn’t care.

I just knew these things had happened.

I no longer cared about the timeline, only the individual moments.

Thankfully, I knew which was the first entry.

Though its content seemed childish now, it was the one I’d read the most, so it stayed at the top.

A confirmation popped up on the phone: Delete?

I hesitated, then deleted it.

Whether it was a slip of the finger or a sudden resolve, once I started, I knew I was forced to say goodbye to the past.

It was inevitable.

I didn’t select all to delete.

I went one by one.

It wasn’t just deletion, it was reviewing and severing my past life in this world.

With each deletion, I felt no attachment, only lighter, more practiced, smoother.

Until the last one.

I realized it was gone.

That was it?

That’s all that happened in this world?

Nothing worth grieving over?

I chuckled softly, deleting the final entry without a second thought.

As if I’d never cared.

I looked up at the ceiling, carefree, then felt the villa around me.

This was where I’d live from now on.

Pretty nice.

I reached out, ready to power off the phone.

I’d find a chance to get rid of it for good, out of my sight, out of my life.

But just as I was about to shut it down, the screen went black.

Completely out of battery.

Figures.

I hadn’t charged it for long, and I’d taken two calls and read diaries.

Plus, the battery leaked like crazy.

Looks like the phone was more eager to leave me than I was to let it go.

Not bad for a phone that’d been with me so long it really got me!

Don’t worry, I’ll give you a grand send-off someday!

Back in my room, I tossed the phone on the nightstand.

It was dead, so no worry about anyone seeing it.

Even if they did, the most important diaries were gone.

Nothing to fret about.

I knew I’d already said goodbye to the past.

Sometimes, all it took to make a decision was something small for me, just switching phones.

I hadn’t planned to go out.

A nice paid half-day off, ruined by those calls.

Though I kept telling myself I’d cut ties with the past, emotions didn’t shift that fast.

I’d even downloaded the academy’s delivery app.

But suddenly, I wanted to go for a walk.

And if I was going out, I might as well eat something delicious.

So, my takeout plan was scrapped.

I’d let myself go, enjoying things the way I wanted.

What couldn’t a good meal fix?

The ones who should be worrying were never me!

Standing in front of the dressing mirror, I adjusted my appearance and clothes, making sure nothing was off, then cheerfully headed out.

Where to?

No plan, no destination.

Straight to the bus stop for a blind-box ride!

It was free anyway.

I’d get off if I saw something interesting, wander until I was tired, then hop back on to enjoy the scenery.

Witch Academy was huge, every street a sight I’d never seen in my past life.

Of course, I’d need to avoid the areas affected by the recent battle.

Not sure if certain bus routes were still running.

I got lucky.

When I reached the platform, a bus pulled up.

It was nearly empty, just a few quiet senior sisters, making me feel a bit out of place.

After a while, I decided to get off and switch buses.

Not sure where the next stop was, but this road felt familiar.

Thinking back, wasn’t this one of the routes I took during registration?

Guess I wanted to see new places but ended up circling familiar ones.

No helping it.

For now, I was like someone who believed in fate, retracing my steps.

Nothing wrong with that.

Maybe I’d check for good restaurants along the way and try one out.

I hopped off, bidding farewell to the dull bus, and started aimlessly strolling down the street.

Even just walking, I felt a breath of freedom, the exhilaration of breaking my chains!

I greedily savored this novel sensation, knowing I’d soon get used to it.

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Is It Weird for a Guy to Apply to a Witch School?

Is It Weird for a Guy to Apply to a Witch School?

身为男生志愿填魔女学院很奇怪吗
Score 8.4
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2023 Native Language: Chinese

Synopsis

When the admissions office of Witch Academy called, I was stunned—I had been accepted into a school I never imagined I could touch. Yes, I am a boy and it is an all-girls’ academy, but they did not mind, so I saw no reason to object. I had applied secretly, without telling my family, just to take a chance. But as soon as those striking seniors greeted us newcomers—pressing every boy against the wall with a knowing smile—I realized things were about to spin out of control. “Oh, come now, you sweet little freshman,” one of them said smoothly, her voice full of mischief. “Don’t make this difficult for me, your big sis. Swallow this core and transform into a witch like me, alright?” She held the glowing orb before us, half-threatening, half-teasing, almost inviting the new boys to react. It was clear she enjoyed it—the blend of fear and resistance in their expressions. Our unease seemed to be her personal amusement. After all, they only had this opportunity once a year.

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