eurekapd Chapter 122 The Witch Who Stomped Grapes (Part 2)
Chapter 122 The Witch Who Stomped Grapes (Part 2)
"By the way, isn't your village famous for producing the best wine? How come the neighboring village is selling more cases?" After settling down at the village chief's house, Elena asked the probing question.
"This...that..." The village chief was clearly hit where it hurt. "Because they cheated!"
"This thing... can be used to cheat?"
"Of course, they're even advertising their wine under the guise of 'wine made from grapes stomped on by a beautiful girl,'" the village chief said. "Such deceit is utterly inhuman!"
Ok……
“Miss Elena, please look at this bottle of wine. This is the product of the trickery by that village over there.” The village chief took out an empty bottle.
The label reads "[Rosemary Girl's Special Tatta Wine]", and there's a picture of a blonde girl stomping on grapes.
"Because of this marketing strategy, our village's sales revenue suffered a major setback this month," the village chief said angrily.
"Didn't you say you only sold a few fewer boxes?" Elena asked.
"Forehead……"
Never mind—after all, I'm a guest in someone else's home, so it's best not to be so sarcastic.
"So what countermeasures do you have? For example, find a pretty girl to step on the wine?" Elena said.
"You want us to do something worse than animals?"
Hmm—putting aside how this is inhuman—how did this bottle of wine get empty? Did you pour it out? It looks like it was drunk, so who else could have drunk it if not you?
All he's good at is talking.
“Miss Elena, you are a genius. You reminded me that if we don’t fall into darkness together, our village will never have peace.”
No, I didn't, you're talking nonsense. What did I say? You've actually wanted to do this for a long time, haven't you?
"Miss Elena, please come and help our village tread grapes!"
what! ?
Although you're indirectly praising me as a cute girl, I know that. And while I'm happy to be praised like this, aren't you going to give me some compensation?
Elena stared at the village chief, who was lost in his own self-admiration.
"The wine of the adorable witch Tata—just thinking about it can crush the neighbor's Screw Gum."
"Her name seems to be Rosemary. And what's Tata?"
“Oh, Rosemary, it doesn’t matter—as for ‘ta-ta,’ that’s our dialect,” the village chief said, then excitedly rushed out of the house. “Folks, listen to me! Our witch is willing to tread grapes for our village!”
No—when did I ever say I was willing?
With the village elder's powerful and clear voice, the news spread far and wide throughout the small village.
"That's wonderful! Miss Witch is beautiful inside and out." "She's my goddess. I really want to drink wine made from grapes she's stepped on." "I want to be stepped on by her."
Elena had originally gone out to explain that she hadn't agreed yet, but seeing the situation, she was too embarrassed to say no and could only let things escalate.
The village was bustling with activity, as if it were Chinese New Year.
"Hey, hey—it's so noisy! You're disturbing our grape-tasting fun." A discordant voice came from the village entrance.
"Rosemary, what are you doing here in our village? Get out!" a villager shouted.
The visitor was a very famous person.
Everyone born and raised here knows her.
"I just wanted to see why you losers were so excited," Rosemary laughed. "Oh, so that's the outside help you found? Trying to copy our marketing strategy?"
The one over there?
Elena snapped out of her daze and looked at the blonde girl at the village entrance who was watching her with a mocking gaze. Was she calling me?
"You don't look like much at all. Just because you're wearing a witch's outfit doesn't make you a witch. You're flat-chested and have no curves, like a little kid—and you think you can defeat me?" Rosemary's rapid-fire remarks bombarded Elaina's ears.
What does it mean that wearing a witch's outfit makes you a witch?
I was born a witch!
and also……
and also……
So you think you're so great just because you have big breasts? And you even said I act like a little kid... Ugh—I can't take it anymore.
I must, immediately, right now, take my revenge on her. It would be beneath me to simply teach this arrogant fool a lesson with magic. I must defeat her in her area of expertise.
I'm determined to stomp on these grapes! Even God can't stop me, I'm telling you.
"Wow, so energetic!" The village chief sensed Elena's fighting spirit.
“Then let’s see who can stomp on the grapes more popular, you blonde brat!” Elena said defiantly, moving closer to Rosemary.
“Let’s see who’s afraid of whom, flat-chested loli,” Rosemary said condescendingly, her arms crossed.
That's outrageous! They discriminated against me not only for my measurements but also for my height!
I'm so angry... I can't even out-sharp-tongued her.
Hmph—Irena turned and left.
……
"Yes, yes...that's exactly it! That expression is awesome!"
Irene unleashed all her boundless hatred on Grape—what, Rosemary? So what if you have big breasts? I'll stomp you to death, stomp you to death…
Her feet stomped furiously on the grapes. Under Irena's overwhelming onslaught, the wine grapes were torn apart, their skins ripped open, and blood and flesh flew everywhere.
Although it felt sticky and uncomfortable at first, I quickly found that it was quite stress-relieving.
As Elena stomped on the grapes, villagers snapped photos of her nearby. After all, these were their tools for promoting their wine.
The wine was made from grapes stomped by a witch, and it was stomped by a beautiful girl.
It's clearly just a gimmick.
"Miss Witch is amazing!" "That expression is perfect, a mix of cunning and youthful innocence." "I want to be a grape."
Irene worked tirelessly all day long.
When she emerged from that crushed barrel, she was utterly exhausted—no, did I just work for free?
Never mind, as long as I can beat that blond brat, that's fine.
"Miss Elena, you've worked hard." The village chief said with a smile, "Dinner is ready, come and rest for a while."
"How much wine can be brewed this way?" Elena asked.
"Ah—about half a bucket?"
Half a bucket?
Is that all...?
I spent a good half day stomping on it, and my legs even cramped up. Half a bucket probably only holds about ten bottles of wine, roughly a case—I heard they sell dozens of cases for a few in that village…
"What's wrong?" The village chief thought Elena was too tired when he saw that she was not speaking.
"How many cases of wine does the neighbor next door sell a week?" Elena asked.
"I haven't counted, but there are at least thirty boxes."
Was she piloting a mecha to stomp on grapes?!
How could she possibly have produced thirty boxes by herself—unless…
“Miss Elena, your expression is terrifying,” the village chief said.
Really... I'm just a little unhappy.
Since it's impossible for her to have actually produced that much wine, the answer is obvious—she didn't actually stomp on much of the wine; it's blatant marketing fraud.
The village chief was right by accident.
Deceitful.
I was really stupid to compete with her. Oh well, stomping on grapes is actually quite fun and stress-relieving; it's not bad to do it once in a while.
Elena calmed herself down, then washed her feet and went back to the village chief's house for lunch—"Tomorrow, I'll reveal the truth. Just you wait, you blond brat."