Miss Witch was still rummaging through the hidden items within her collar, yet she hadn't found anything useful. Meanwhile, a voice coughed came from the raised dust area, followed by a figure slowly emerging.
"Where is this place..."
It was indeed a beauty difficult to describe with words—though she appeared somewhat disheveled, with her face smeared with dust. Even so, her beauty was undeniable.
If she were able to clean up, to what extent would this beauty shine through?
Maria couldn't help but fall into contemplation—she believed that physical beauty had its limits. Once it reached a certain level, like the maximum definition of beauty by the public, they would all look similar—for instance, she couldn't distinguish who was who among the beauties on the internet.
Remembering dozens or even hundreds of names for the same face was simply mental pollution.
