I'm the Only Magus in This Witch World

"How did I even agree to wear this?" Magna asked himself with a frown, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Dressed in a light pink dress, covered in flower patterns that weren’t lovely in the slightest, it definitely wasn’t a fashion style he preferred at all.

It was also the first time he was looking at his features since he came to this world.

His messy, medium-length hair was black as pitch, and his dark brown eyes sat beneath straight brows that were neither too thin nor too thick. Everything about his face looked almost exactly like the one he had in his previous life.

He could still remember the woman who’d given birth to him in this world, her light brown hair and facial features nothing at all like what he had now.

It was apparent he didn’t get his look from the mother at all.

Remembering that unfortunate memory of the day he was born and abandoned in a river, he looked around the room again, trying to compare it with the one he had first opened his eyes in this world.

Pink curtains covered the windows, sunlight slipping in through the gaps, soft pink rugs covering the floor, a massive wardrobe stuffed full of colorful dresses, and a huge bed sitting right in the middle of it all.

The plush toys scattered across the bed and around the room made it plain enough who’s room this was.

In the end, he came to the conclusion that the family he’d been born into probably hadn’t been much less well off than this Winterborne family.

’I feel like I’ll run into them again someday.’

Right then, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in." Magna called out, turning toward it.

Faye stepped inside with quick steps, a huge, mischievous grin on her face. "How is it? It was a gift from my grandmother for my last birthday, but it was a bit too big, so I never got to wear it."

She looked thoroughly pleased with how the pink dress looked on him, even proud of herself for making such a good choice.

Magna, though, didn’t share her opinion in the slightest.

"You do know I’m a boy, right?"

Faye tilted her head slightly, not quite following. Then, a second later, her face changed to an "Oh!" expression.

She quickly hid the hair clip she’d brought with her behind her back. "Um... I’m sorry, I don’t have any clothes like that here."

Just in time, right after her words, a maid stepped in, clothes in hand. "Sorry, Lady Faye, may I come in?"

Once given permission, the maid stepped inside and looked at Magna with a smile on her face. Not a normal smile, though, more like she was forcing herself not to laugh.

"Head maid Victoria tailored these for you." She held out what she was carrying.

"Tailored for me?" Magna took the clothes with a hint of suspicion.

The clothes were a thin, clearly high-quality white shirt, and a pair of black pants that felt like soft leather.

There was even a pair of black shoes, low-cut, the kind Magna thought looked like what fighters wore in old murim films.

He hadn’t even been in the mansion an hour, so having an entire outfit tailored that fast felt almost unbelievable to him.

"Thank you." He said, at least fairly certain that whatever it turned out to look like on him, it would be better than the pink dress he was currently wearing.

"If you find them uncomfortable, the head maid said she can make more adjustments, just let us know," the maid said before leaving the room.

Magna then looked over at Faye, who was still waiting, watching him with expectant eyes, clearly waiting to see how the new clothes would fit him.

But realizing what that look actually meant, she let out a disheartened sigh. "I’ll be waiting downstairs, then. Mother said to come to the dining hall once you’re done."

Then she left the room, disappointment written all over her.

—

After changing into his new clothes, Magna stepped out of the room and headed downstairs.

His new clothes fit him perfectly, making the words "custom-tailored" feel entirely true.

The black shoes and pants sat exactly right on him. He could move in them with ease, almost as comfortable as his favorite pajamas.

The long-sleeved white shirt on top felt a touch loose, but not uncomfortably so, if anything, he liked that it didn’t cling tightly to his body.

As he walked down the long corridors, taking in the walls lined here and there with portraits and landscape paintings, losing track of time, he eventually managed to find the dining hall door Faye had described.

When he pushed the door open, a wonderful smell hit him at once, making his mouth water.

In front of him stood a long table, covered end to end with all kinds of beautiful-looking food.

There was no one in the room, though.

"Did I come to the wrong place?" he murmured, though his legs had already started moving on their own, carrying him toward the table.

There was every kind of food, fruits he’d never seen before and had no idea what they were, colorful desserts, and freshly cooked dishes still steaming.

Even the roasted duck-looking thing sitting right in the middle of the table made his mouth water, despite having sworn to become a vegetarian after the whole goblin disaster.

He started walking around the table, not touching anything, just looking, since touching would have been disrespectful to the owner of the house.

But after a few minutes with still no one showing up, his patience and willpower started running thin.

He was starving, hungrier than he could ever remember being.

At last, his eyes landed on a wide bowl filled with something that looked like grape-sized red fruit, both the smell and the look of it thoroughly appetizing.

Thinking no one would notice if he took just one, he reached out slowly.

Before his finger even touched it, he stopped short, his instincts and senses suddenly screaming a warning at some sudden threat coming from behind him.

Then, with sudden assassin reflexes, he threw himself to the side, dodging whatever was coming at him from behind.

He rolled once across the floor and immediately lifted his head, looking back at the spot he’d just been standing in.

Seeing no one, nothing out of the ordinary at all, he felt confused. ’Am I being too paranoid?’

But then his ears caught a faint sound, the small creak of the wooden floor, coming from behind him again.

He lunged forward quickly, putting distance between himself and whatever was back there.

Yet when he looked again, there was nothing there either.

"Who’s there?" he called out, quite certain that someone in the room, messing with him.

He scanned the whole room with every sense he had, trying not to miss even the smallest movement, slowly backing away as he did, until his back met the wall, keeping it safely covered.

Then, at last, his eyes caught a small movement.

It was so small anyone else might have missed it entirely, just one of the curtains, shifting ever so slightly.

But it was enough of a clue for him to act on.

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