Although she had been inexplicably dragged into the copper-canopy carriage, Jiang Han still spent the entire afternoon resting inside.
Of course, it absolutely wasn't because she coveted the little witch in mourning clothes' offer that "as compensation, our little comrade will pay for your ticket," but because...
Because it was so comfortable inside!
Mm-hmm, no smell of smoke!
No smell of alcohol either!
And there were comic books suited to little witches their age... Though Jiang Han herself wasn't a little witch, she still read them with great relish. Witch screenwriters rarely had any artsy pretensions, so the plots in their comics had always been immensely satisfying—grudges repaid with grudges, vengeance answered with vengeance.
One series told of a prince who became a witch for the sake of revenge, and Jiang Han found herself completely absorbed in it.
In one sitting, she finished over fifty collected volumes that comfortable afternoon—there was practically no difference in artistic skill among witches. Nearly every witch could produce exquisite illustrations, so what witch manga artists learned in their classes were skills like panel composition, scriptwriting, storyboard editing, and so on. Drawing itself was the one thing they never had to worry about.
"...That was so satisfying. I thought it would be far inferior to works from my previous world."
Curled up in a comfortable water sofa specially provided for little witches, Jiang Han closed yet another comic she had finished.
The comic's cover resembled that of a luxurious paperbound book. Its binding was exquisite, and the pages were made from high-quality matte coated paper, pleasant to the touch, with finer images and crisp ink.
Rather than comic books, they were, as ever, understated luxuries in the witch style—specialty witch products that both landfolk and witches bought to bring home to their families.
Occasionally, some