Julius cast a sidelong glance at the towering piles of Hemostatic Vine and Silverdew Herb stacked in the corner.
His gaze flickered repeatedly between the medicinal ingredients and Helos, his brow involuntarily furrowing.
“Are all these herbs still not enough?”
The silver tips of Helos’s hair swayed gently as she shook her head, a trace of helplessness flashing in her pale purple eyes.
She briskly walked over to the workbench, her slender fingers skillfully picking up a pen and jotting down some herb names on a piece of paper.
“Of course, it’s not these!”
The girl turned and handed the note to Julius. “Here, I need these—though the quantity doesn’t have to be large this time.”
Julius lowered his head and quickly scanned the contents on the paper.
Moonlight Mushrooms, Serpent’s Tongue Grass, Dewflower… all common herbs. Normally, the city’s apothecary merchants should have these in stock.
If they can’t be bought…
His eyes drifted involuntarily toward the window, where he could faintly see Kyle and Selina talking in the courtyard.
Since there are ready adventurers in the manor, it might be more convenient to commission them to gather the herbs?
However…
The youth shook his head, his short black hair swaying lightly with the movement.
Forget it, it’s safer to first check with the herb merchants. After all, none of these are rare materials.
“All right, I’ll help you buy them.”
Julius carefully folded the note, his slender fingers gently slipping it into the inside pocket of his uniform.
He looked up at Helos, a hint of curiosity in his black eyes.
“Planning to research something again?”
Helos lifted her head, rolled her eyes, and a smile curved at her lips.
“Ah, sort of. I found some magical formulas I want to try.”
Suddenly, as if recalling something important, she turned quickly and headed to the workbench.
The girl pulled open a drawer and retrieved a bottle of Life Potion hidden deep inside.
“Oh, right. This is for you.”
She solemnly handed the small vial into Julius’s palm, their fingertips brushing lightly as it changed hands.
Julius could feel the warmth of her palm still lingering on the bottle.
“What’s this?”
“Life Potion. For treating wounds.”
Helos’s voice carried an unmistakable pride. “Pour it on your wounds when you’re hurt, or you can drink it directly.”
She nodded toward the mouse cage in the corner, a mysterious smile playing at her lips.
“Heh heh, I personally tested this stuff. There’s absolutely no problem.”
Julius followed her gaze and saw the mouse inside the cage moving its hind legs nimbly. The wound it once had had vanished without a trace, and even its fur had grown back neatly.
The boy raised his black eyebrows slightly and lightly shook the vial in his hand.
The red liquid shimmered with an unusual luster under the light.
“Interesting.”
His lips twitched into a faint smile as he carefully tucked the potion into his pocket.
“All right, I won’t refuse it then.”
Just as Julius took a step forward, Helos’s voice suddenly drifted from behind him like a gentle breeze brushing past his ear.
Her tone was lower than usual, laced with a worry he had never heard before.
“Be careful these days…”
She paused, silver strands trembling slightly in the sunlight. “Those Abyss Cultists… they’re no good.”
The youth turned around, the black uniform slicing a sharp arc in the motion.
He saw Helos standing by the workbench, her pale purple eyes flickering with unease.
“Don’t worry.”
He deliberately made his voice sound lighter, a reassuring smile curling on his lips. “Nothing will happen.”
His fingers gently patted the pocket on his chest, where Helos’s Life Potion was kept.
Beneath the fabric came the faint clinking of the glass vial, as if responding to his promise.
“After all…”
His gaze settled on the girl’s face, his voice softening unconsciously. “You gave me this potion, too.”
The workshop fell silent suddenly, leaving only the rustling of leaves outside the window.
Helos pressed her lips together, her silver lashes lowered.
She seemed to want to say more, but in the end, only nodded gently.
***
The lower district of Olivias City was filled with the stench of cheap alcohol and rotting food, lingering in the damp alleys.
Night had fallen, and dim gas lamps cast flickering shadows across the narrow streets, illuminating the weary faces of hurried passersby.
In an inconspicuous corner, a man cloaked in a gray-brown hood silently pushed open the back door of a dilapidated apothecary.
His fingers were withered and thin, knuckles marked with tiny scars—signs of years spent handling poisons.
“The usual.”
He lowered his voice, pulling out a coarse cloth bundle from his chest and gently placing it on the counter. “Three bottles of ‘that’.”
The apothecary owner—a middle-aged man with a face full of wrinkles—carefully untied the cloth, revealing three dark green vials inside.
There were no labels on the bottles, only a faint etched pattern at the bottom.
“Things are getting tense lately.”
The owner’s hoarse voice lowered further. “Church agents and the duke’s men have started patrolling the slums.”
Under the cloak, the man’s lips curved into a slight smile.
“That’s why we need to be more cautious, isn’t it?”
He extended his gaunt fingers and lightly pointed to one bottle.
“Dilute it tenfold, mix it into regular painkillers. Sell half doses at a time. Don’t let anyone notice.”
The owner silently nodded, slipping the potions into a hidden compartment under the counter.
***
Several days later, in a cheap tavern in the lower district.
A worker with a sallow face clutched his aching knee and slapped a few copper coins onto the bar.
“Boss, another round of that ‘special brew’ from last time.”
“All right.”
The tavern owner pulled a small bottle from beneath the counter, poured some of the murky liquid into a mug, mixed it with ale, and handed it over.
“Same price as before—getting the ingredients for this stuff has been tough lately. Prices might go up in a few days.”
The worker greedily downed the ale. Almost the moment the liquid slid down his throat, the tension in his furrowed brow eased.
A strange warmth spread from his stomach through his entire body. The pain ebbed away like a receding tide, replaced by a light, euphoric sensation.
“Damn, this stuff’s incredible…”
The man muttered, an unnatural flush coloring his sallow cheeks.
His pupils dilated, as if veiled by a cloudy mist. His breathing grew rapid and noticeably heavier.
In the shadows of the corner, the cloak shifted slightly.
A pale, slender hand lifted a wine glass. The dark red liquid shimmered eerily under the dim light.
“Another one.”
The hoarse whisper was almost drowned out by the tavern’s clamor.
Beneath the cloak, thin lips twisted into a cruel smirk.
He gently swirled the glass. The crimson liquid traced slow circles along the walls of the cup, reflecting the gradually dazed face of the man across from him.
The man’s husky voice was as cold and venomous as a snake. “The more you drink…”
The glass tilted, the blood-colored liquid dangerously wobbling at the rim.
“The closer we get to the Saintess.”
From the shadows came a nearly inaudible chuckle, like tiny bubbles of poison seeping into clear water.
At the bar, the man’s head had already slumped heavily, yet an eerie smile lingered at the corners of his mouth, as if lost in a dream he never wanted to wake from.
How very creepy.