<div>


    They tried. They really did. They insisted they could make it work, but even after a lot of placating, praising, and pushing, the Cherubs were adamantly against Willow riding any one of them. May as well settle the issue and just move on.


    Willow had to go on foot while Aire and Anne stayed on their mounts. They never left her behind. Even as they lost daylight. Even as the Cherubs yearned to escape the shadows creeping up on their feet. A tight grip and a stern word reigned the birds in, refusing to afford the White Mage anything less.


    At some point, the Rusties had hopped off and joined the White Mage on the ground. Perhaps in solidarity with the sole party member without a ride. Sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet.


    Or, at least, that was what she thought.


    "—against the poisoned rain and earth, the One and True Saintess prayed to Kyaeris. Judgement, holy light, bounded its wings and gouged its eyes, a divine punishment for daring to besmirch the skies of the Goddess—!"


    Somehow, they managed it. Convinced them? Yeah, right. They cheated. When one of the birds was calm enough to sit still, Anne held their attention while Aire suddenly hoisted Willow over her shoulder and then dumped her onto the mount''s back, like she was being kidnapped.


    "—The Obsidian Witch foretold the fortune of the wicked beast. Be it a hex or a curse, a stake was spiked upon its throat, never to cast its profane breath again—"


    Quartz was the unlucky bird. Half-dried kobold blood soaked his feathers, and Willow had smeared it all over him as she awkwardly clutched his sides with her knees and elbows. The poor Cherub looked as though the lake had turned black or the sky had turned red, and before Willow could shift to a more comfortable position, Aire and Anne were back in their spots, and they were on the move.


    "—eye of the beast shuddered, blinded by the righteous fury of her spear. She dashed. She galloped! With the mighty roar of a dragon, the Azure Maiden pierced the foul demonic spawn—!"


    Willow had spent the rest of the journey stuck like this, carried like luggage while Aire recited a Bard''s tale she had heard before coming to Risadel.


    "—Thus, the Azure Dragons attained complete victory, blessed the skies with their hearts whole and pure!"


    Walking would''ve been less mortifying.


    "What do you think?" Aire grinned. "Does it not send the heart aflutter? We live in a time when our contemporaries are legends in the making. And we walk right along their footsteps, accomplishing the impossible!"


    Too cheesy. Too many adjectives. Not her style. Willow preferred the more down-to-earth works of the late Royal Scrivener Thomas. But was she going to say that? She''d rather not entertain the fluttery adventurer any more than she already had.


    "Hmm, but you do seem the type to prefer the likes of Thomas the Monotone..."


    ...Were her tastes that obvious?


    "Why, it takes me back," Aire whispered wistfully, "when all I had was a paper sword and a heart of fancy. The maids of my house and I would always pretend, triumphing over giant monsters, like they did in the Accounts of the Great Sage..."


    Willow raised her head, squinting. "You had to deal with this when she was a kid?"


    "Oh, she was a handful!" Anne had a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. "But those were still the brightest years of our lives. You won''t find a more earnest girl."


    "Nay." Aire raised a fist and puffed her chest, but considering her state of dress, it did...interesting things under the white cloak. "There shall be even brighter times ahead. With our party shall be like no other, and every bard would extol our valorous deeds across Rosarium!"


    Willow had to clutch Quartz''s feathers when the bird suddenly jerked, hopping over a puddle. "Please," she strained, "I think I would die of embarrassment."


    "You mean burst into flowers, like Helen the Humble?"


    "Can you all stop comparing me to people who died tragic deaths?"


    Aire pouted. "Why so blasé, friend? Does glory not invoke your sense of romance?"


    "Glory?" Willow kept herself from hissing as she caught her own staff from falling off. "Your clothes didn''t survive. Not even the least perverted Bard in the continent would leave that out. Keep this up, and you could be remembered as one of those Barbarians who shamelessly rush into battle half-naked. Ever thought about that?"


    "Well, this WAS the fourth armor set she had burned..." Anne murmured. "Oh, dear... Do people already think...?"


    Willow felt a little bad putting up a wall and shaming her like this, but if she must adventure with these two goofballs for their entire tenure in Risadel, the sooner they realize the harsh realities of fame and fortune, the better. Otherwise, Miss Fanservice here was going to have a hard time.


    "Hm?" The noblewoman tilted her head. "Is that truly so bad?"


    ...Huh?


    "In fact, it would be my honor to be compared to the likes of our brave brothers and sisters of the Farnear Divide! Are you worried I would be embarrassed? Humiliated? You underestimate me; there is no shame in showing a little bit of skin, especially in tribute to such gallant allies of justice."


    "A ''little'' bit?" Willow felt her brows disappear behind her bangs, because if walking around in burnt rags that barely covered everything important was only a little, she was almost afraid to ask what would be indecent. "Anne? I was under the impression that Barbarians were stigmatized. Particularly for a certain lack of fashion. As a concept."


    "Lady Aire does not discriminate. No matter who you are or where you are from, a hero is still a hero. An attitude I believe a certain little birdie ought to adopt, isn''t that right, Ruby?" The maid made her displeasure known by tussling the feathers along her Cherub''s neck. Ruby let out a pitiful whine but leaned into the touch, treating it more like a massage than a punishment.


    Her disciplinary methods definitely needed work, Willow thought.


    "Indeed," Aire nodded, a noble smile gracing her lips. "We were raised to be proud and accepting ladies of Rosarium society. To scorn those who fought alongside us would bring shame upon my family name."


    "...What even is your family name?" Because whoever raised her, Willow wanted to slap them for forgetting to teach this lady common sense.


    "Ah," Aire winked, "that would be telling."


    They arrived at the mouth of the First Wall, the river rolling down like an impossibly long tongue. The Rosarium soldiers stationed there saw them. A few voices sounded from up top, with an awful lot more energy than they should have, being on their night shift. Then: a loud clack.


    Chains rattled as the gate began to lift. It should''ve just opened halfway, but it went all the way to the top, until the First Wall was gaping and showing its teeth. On the other side, a man greeted them. A man Willow recognized.


    The Lake Watcher had started his night shift, his uniform fresh and stiff against the cool air, and his golden rose emblem glinting on his breast.


    The girls steered their birds into the tall wharf under the gate. They slowed down, the moisture of the river wafting up to their feet. It was there for only a second, but Willow had felt the stillness of the mana in the air. If she had not known any better, she would have thought it was a threat, but sometimes the wharf got slippery, and entire caravans could fall into the water. He was actually ready to catch them in case that happened.


    The Lake Watcher stepped aside, guiding them through with a wave of his spear. His gaze slid over Anne and Aire, offering a nod of respect to each, before locking onto Willow. He straightened his back and gave his usual salute. "Welcome back, ma''am."


    Willow ignored the bewildered looks she was getting from the two as, from her undignified place, she waved hello. "Lake Watcher. At ease, and thanks for the welcome, I guess. But a bit excessive to open it all the way, don''t you think?"


    "The men needed the excuse to show off." The soldier marched in lockstep with the birds, taking the side along the river to get a proper look at her. "You appear to be dying."


    "Spiritually? Yes," she said. "I''ve made my peace with it."


    The Lake Watcher hummed. "You appear much thinner under the cloak than I thought. Skipping meals again?"


    "I eat plenty, thanks."


    "As a man married to a mother hen, I can assure you those words never fooled anyone." The Lake Watcher then took note of the state of the party, raising a brow at Aire, who wore Willow''s bloodied cloak, and frowning at Anne, who wilted under his scrutiny. "I see you dealt with more than just the local river slimes. Demontide?"


    "Demontide. Monster Spawner at the Second Wall. We already cleared it out."


    "...Truly?"


    "Indeed," Aire boldly declared. "It was long and hard-fought, but the blight has been vanquished." She raised a tattered glove, proving the struggle they all had faced. "I assure you none remains."


    The Lake Watcher gave the Magic Fencer a long, hard look, but seeing the White Mage nod, he unclenched his jaw and softened up. "...Very well. As per procedure, we will send a team to verify your testimony and notify the guild. Please proceed."


    Aire smiled. "Rosarium blooms upon thee!"


    "Y-Yes." Anne nodded, but it came off as a bow. "Thank you for your hard work."


    It was as if their words snagged him by the soul. He was not quite facing them, but Willow saw his vacant expression clearly enough. His lips parted, his eyes narrowed slightly. A blink, and it was gone. "It is merely my duty," he said. "Take care now."


    The Lake Watcher made one last salute before his departure, marching to the top of the First Wall to begin his vigil of the Evil Lake. Then, behind the party, the gate rolled down, rattling the chains and mechanisms that made it possible, until it hit the bottom with a resounding thud under the river.


    "Amazing..." Anne had watched it all happen, staring so pensively that Ruby took over to watch where they were going. "I never knew you were friendly with the Rosarium soldiers, Miss White Mage."


    "We chat. Don''t misunderstand."


    The Magic Fencer hummed. "Are all the soldiers as distinguished as that gentleman? Rosarium does not simply just send their talented soldiers so far away from the capital," she said. "Volunteers, perhaps...?"


    "...You can say that, sure."


    They were inside Risadel proper and then into Bard Street. Willow took the chance to dismount. The moment her boots met the ground, though, Quartz let out a cry of relief and stretched his wings, shedding his metaphorical shackles. He almost tried to run, too, had Aire not reined him in.


    "Whoa, Quartz! Mind your manners," Aire chastised. "The night is young! It is still too soon to exchange farewells! No, do not go over there—! Quartz!"


    And they ran through the dark, but never too far, circling around the streetlight.


    "You, too, Ruby." Anne cupped the bird by the beak before she could act up, forcing her into eye contact. But the maid''s pouting was not the reproachful look she thought it was. "I know what you are thinking, but another few minutes won''t hurt."


    Willow rolled her eyes. Maybe it was the way of the nobles to faff around like guests trying too hard to impress at the exit door, but she was just so done right now. "It''s fine. Go get changed already. You can return my cloak at the guild tomorrow."


    "Eh?" Anne blinked. "But..."


    She was about to argue, but that moment of distraction was all that Ruby needed. The Cherub took a wide berth from the White Mage. As in, ten steps away wide.


    Anne gasped. "Ruby!"


    It was so cartoonishly rude that Willow could not help but let slip a derisive laugh. And that made the big coward take another step back. Ruby whined, cried, and shook her head, marching in place. She wanted to go.


    "Give it a rest," Willow said. "Can''t expect people to be best friends in only a day."


    Aire and her mount circled by. "But we did, did we not—? Quartz, that is the river!"


    Willow strategically chose to ignore that. "Respect their feelings. There''s always next time."


    "I..." The maid bit her lip. "I suppose it is getting late." She clearly did not want to just up and leave, but at their destination and at this hour, there was no point in convincing the birds anymore. She smiled apologetically. "Good night, Miss White Mage. May the Moons watch—Ruby? S-Slow down!"


    The bird mounts did not care. The instant they sensed the permission to leave, they took it. They ran down Bard Street, carrying their owners away and kicking up dust in their wake. There were a few shouts and expletives, one of the local bards shaking a fist at them, as they narrowly avoided some night-goers on the way.


    Willow was left alone. Finally alone.


    "...I do not like those birds," she groused.


    She huffed, brushing off a few feathers still stuck to her tunic, but did not leave right away. Instead, she glanced back at the First Wall.


    The soldiers stationed here had a precarious relationship with the mainland. Rebellious elements. Demoted officers. Victims of corruption. Far away from home, so close to the shores of the Evil Lake, with limited support and substandard defenses, but too desperate or too stubborn to leave...


    They were all sent here to die.


    Anne and Aire might not appreciate the dishonesty, but if they hadn''t figured it out yet, it was probably for the best. Maybe when they were ready, when the fates allowed it.


    After all, it only made sense. That was how it usually went down. Wayward nobles: bearing their ideals, facing the sins of their kingdom as a part of their story.


    Willow could only hope she had enough in her to keep them alive before then.


    <hr>


    Back in the orphanage, the nuns and priests of the Holy Garden Kingdom had told Willow to always remember to give thanks to the Goddess before bed.


    So thanks for the kraken stew, a hearty meal to nourish her battered soul. Thanks for the roof over her head, these rare moments of peace and quiet and tranquility. Thanks for the warm baths, the ingenuity of magic, which washed all the stress and grime, sanitized her clothes, reaching where neither soap nor brush could reach.


    And thanks. For giving her this second chance. For surviving yet another day.


    Then she buried her face into the pillow and groaned, letting the spirit leave her mouth.


    Willow turned herself over and stared up at the ceiling.


    Most adventurers had two choices for lodging in Risadel. One was an inn, which you could find plenty of along Bard Street. Another was the Dragon Tale guild itself, for a price. Room and board were free for guild employees, who either had nowhere else to stay or were just too dedicated to their job—of which there was a concerningly high number of the latter. As a member of the Support Corps, she was technically considered an employee.


    The room had been rebuilt when Roxidel was renamed Risadel. Some of the old wooden planks mingled with the new ones, each with varying flakes of varnish and paint. Even the bed was a Frankenstein monstrosity, glued back together with natural resin and a few casts of [Synthesis] to seal the deal, housing a patchwork mattress covered by a patchwork blanket. It was spartan, bereft of personal effects, with only a desk to write on and a closet to store her things.


    It wasn''t much, but it was home.


    Knock, knock, knock!


    Willow sighed.


    Heaving herself off the bed, the White Mage paused by the door, wondering who could be knocking at this hour. Unless it was urgent business, Layla usually waited until morning. Master Gerald would''ve busted the door down. Most people were nowhere near friendly enough to know where she stayed.


    Then, she shrugged and grabbed her staff by the corner—the sharp end pointed up—before slowly opening it just wide enough to see who was on the other side.


    "...Magni?"


    "Good evening, White Mage!" The blue wolf girl sparkled, oddly too happy to see her with how her tail was swishing like a pendulum. She cleared her throat, straightened her cuffs, all proper and casual-like, and said, "I happened to pass by, and I must say, your pleasant aroma is like no other—"


    "Horrible phrasing."


    "—and so I thought, like a good neighbor, perhaps we could share a drink downstairs. Talk about our day. Relax under the firelight."


    "Right. And we couldn''t have done this tomorrow? Why are you here, really?"


    "You wound me!" Magni clutched her heart. "After all we''ve done together! I am simply a concerned friend trying to check up on her favorite White Mage. Is that so wrong? Why, you could ask anyone, and they''d call me the most magnanimous wolf in all of Rosarium! You would not find a girl more loyal, more honest, more—!"


    Willow shut the door.


    Willow waited.


    Knock, knock, knock.


    Willow opened the door again.


    Magni cradled her tail with the straightest look on her face. "I have nowhere to stay," she said, "and I was hoping we could...share the room."


    "...Where did you stay before?"


    "In my wagon. It''s still in the workshop getting repaired. The damage was..." Magni scratched under her ear. "It was worse than we thought. Had to walk in and pay a little extra, and, uh, I may have forgotten the rest of my money inside the wagon before they closed up shop and locked everything away, so... Help a girl out?"


    Willow went quiet. She spent half that time squinting at Magni in disbelief and the other half just thinking about it. Her eyes rolled up. Rolled down. At Magni. Back down. At Magni again, who at some point broke out the puppy eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled.


    In for a penny, in for a pound, or so they say...


    Resting her staff back in its corner, she widened the door.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Eheheh~!" Magni strutted right on through. "Still got it!"


    "Sleep in the closet. There are a few spare blankets you can use. I also have a few of my things in there." Willow locked the door and began turning around. "So whatever you do, do not—what are you doing?"


    Beside the opened closet, where her boots and mantle were already thrown in, Magni stopped halfway from disrobing her shorts. She blinked. "Getting ready to sleep. Obviously."


    "You sleep with your clothes off?"


    "And you sleep with your clothes on?" Magni gave her a once-over. "With those clothes on? Don''t you get all itchy?"


    "Since when were we close enough to be this...comfortable?"


    "Sounds like someone never got chummy with a Barbarian before."


    "Hopefully never. I have my hands full with enough trouble as it is."


    "Oh, relaaax!" the wolf girl dismissed, before going all the way and revealing that behind those shorts...


    ...was another, smaller pair of shorts.


    Oh.


    Magni twirled her shorts by the waistband along her finger, a goofy grin on her lips. "We''re both girls here. It''s not like you see me that way—ack!"


    The shorts slipped off and smacked her in the face. Somehow, it landed so perfectly that she ended up wearing it over her head. Wolf ears poked through the leg holes as she stumbled into the closet, flailing around like some kind of pervert. "Nnnrk! Nyeh! Who turned off the lights?!"


    She tried to brace onto something only to slip and entangle herself in a mess of blankets. It only made it worse.


    Willow watched on. Whatever tension she had felt faded to dust. Had she honestly thought something inappropriate was going to happen? Stupid. Of course not.


    Something like that was only for the protagonist.


    "You know what? You made your point." Willow shoved the rest of the wolf girl in there and then closed the closet. "Get as comfortable as you want."


    She nestled back into her bed, drawing the covers over herself. End of day, end of chapter, feeling herself drift to sleep, healing up all her HP, MP, and SP, without a single damn left in the world.


    "Good night," she said, before turning off the mana lights, a flicker of [Telekinesis] on the switch.


    ...


    In the dark, there was a low, steady creak.


    "Hey, um," Magni spoke through the crack in the closet, "I wasn''t exactly lying when I said I wanted to chat. Can we... Can we still do that?"


    "...Ten minutes."


    <hr>


    There were plenty of ways to get potions, even in Risadel. Some general goods stores typically had the common household ones in stock. Or, if you''re feeling brave, you could get some from the shady merchant next door, peddling weird things like potions of ''enlargement'' or ''heroism'' or whatever.


    For the hardy adventurers, those in need of stronger stuff? They would need to see an Alchemist.


    Willow and Magni stood before the Red Apothecary. It was one of the few workshops to settle in Risadel, but instead of establishing somewhere convenient like Bard Street, the owner took the business to the shady, abandoned parts of town, surrounded by the remnants of what once was Roxidel. The workshop itself was just two steps removed from a slum house.


    "I-Is this really the right place?" Magni stuck to Willow''s back, watching the alleys untouched by the early morning light with shaky eyes. "Everything here is so run down... and creepy."


    "And it is probably the best in town," Willow said. "Bear with it."


    In her past life, RPGs sometimes had that one mysterious shop in the middle of nowhere that sold precious gear. Following that logic, the Red Apothecary must be something special. All Willow had to do was follow the rumors, and she became a regular ever since.


    The signboard hanging over the door was the only proof of its establishment. The crude drawing of a red cauldron with steam lines, which faded at the end as if the artist ran out of paint, was hanging by a single, rusted chain.


    Until it broke.


    A crack, and the signboard lay in pieces on the ground.


    Magni stared. "...Are you sure?"


    "I''m sure. Let''s go."


    Bells announced their entrance. The air was thick with incense, mixing with the musk of old wood. Two boarded-up tables served as the reception counters, while six more held all manner of jars and potions on the tabletops. Whatever was on the side of the counters was blocked by a thick curtain of stitched-up blankets. Despite the shoddy appearance, the poor lighting held up the sense of mystique, and that was exactly why it was, without a doubt, an Alchemist''s workshop.


    Good thing Magni did not look up, or she would''ve freaked at the countless talismans adhered to the ceiling like a psychopath''s piece of modern art.


    She was right behind Willow, looking around in awe, until her attention was arrested by the conspicuously huge bowl in the middle. Inside were balls the size of marbles wrapped in what smelled like rice paper.


    "Huh. What''s this?" Magni raised one up to eye level, gave it a whiff. "Oh! Minty! Is this candy? This place is more modern and hospitable than thought. Well, don''t mind if I—!"


    "Well, well, well... Yet another fool courting death."


    Magni yelped and went behind the nearest human shield. Willow, for her part, had expected it.


    In the far corner, in their blind spot, was a granny on a rocking chair. Willow had met her enough times to count all twelve warts and four moles on that wrinkly face. An elongated nose and a ninety-degree hunchback, gangly hands over a gangly cane—she was the walking stereotype of an ugly Witch. But a few things broke the mold: like the pair of fox ears peeking through her monstrosity of a hairdo and the hanfu draped over her figure, which was stuffed with her own tail, making her back look bigger than it actually was.


    The Witch, the owner of the workshop, grinned. "White Mage. I almost didn''t recognize you without that mantle of yours. And I see you brought a little friend. Found a test subject for the elixir of immortality, have you?"


    "Wait, what?!"


    "She''s kidding, Magni," Willow said. "Calm down."


    "B-But she''s looking at me like she''ll shove me into a pot and boil me alive!"


    "Oh, no, no, no..." The Witch stood up from the rocking chair. "I am not one to do something so wasteful, so benign. Boiling you would ruin the material. Like that tail of yours. It would make for a fine coat for this coming winter, ufufufu~!"


    "Keep my tail out of this!"


    The Witch began stalking around the workshop. Her wicked eyes were on Magni, who kept herself behind Willow and swiveled her by the shoulders the whole time.


    "Why are you running, little wolf?" The Witch suddenly switched directions, making Magni almost trip trying to go the other way. She cackled. "Where is the famed ferocity and pride of your tribe? Surely the blood of this generation is not so weak that even the ancestors had been forgotten. Let me get a good look at you."


    Magni''s tail went right between her legs. "H-Hey, hey! Hands off the goods! Or my old man''s ghost will haunt you, lady!"


    They were so up close now that the Witch was looking over Willow''s shoulder, almost stabbing the White Mage with her nose. "Quite the mouth, this one. Curious. Is this the type of company you keep, White Mage? The more I hear about the famed Nose Fixer, the more perplexing you are. But it seems even you cannot resist the simple desire for a fluffy tail."


    "What am I, a pet now?! Seriously, leave me alone!"


    Around and around they went. Magni had abandoned using Willow as a shield and used her as a pillar instead. She ducked out of sight wherever she could, all the while the Witch followed her tail, clearly enjoying the game of cat and mouse.


    Willow just stood there. Lips and brows straight. Should she raise her staff and start bopping some heads? Or be civilized and wait for reason to prevail?


    Fortunately, she did not have to choose. Reason eventually came. From deeper within the workshop, a distant voice broke through.


    "Granny Yoko! Are you scaring the customers again?!"


    Everything ground to a halt.


    "Bah!" The Witch yelled across the counters, "So what if I am, Rika?!"


    "Granny, we talked about this! We are running a business, remember!?"


    "Of course I remember! This whole thing was my idea! Now you stay back there and do your homework while I have a fun little chat with our regular."


    "Wait, the White Mage?"


    The pitter-pattering of footsteps. There was a commotion. Something fell. There was the sound of boxes getting kicked over, but that didn''t stop whoever was coming. Then, bursting from the curtains, there came out a little girl.


    Big, wide glasses covered big, wide eyes. Huge, fluffy ears sprouted from her brilliant red hair, only for her tail to show up from the curtain and prove what was the true apex of fluffy things. She was wiping her powdered gloves over an oversized apron, and she was small enough that, except for her fox ears, she disappeared behind the table counter, only to pop up from a stepping stool.


    Rika: Alchemist, little shopkeeper, and the Witch''s apprentice. When compared to the creepy vibes of the Red Apothecary and the mischief of the Witch, her cuteness was like a ray of sunshine.


    "Welcome, welcome! Back for more mana potions already? You''ve been chugging those like an addict, and... Huh. You look smaller without the cloak."


    Willow knew it was her signature, but must everyone keep mentioning it?


    The moment she laid eyes on her, Magni gasped. She looked down on her own tail, then looked at Rika''s. She saw the sheen in the fuzz, the prestige in the color. And despaired. "B-Beaten by a little shopkeeper..."


    "Hey! Not little! In this line of work, I could be a thousand years old." The little shopkeeper gave the White Mage a little side eye and a smug grin. "You never know."


    "Psh. Yeah, right. There''s no way you are that old." But then Magni leaned over to Willow and whispered nervously, "She''s not. Right?"


    "At least this little wolf has eyes." Yoko the Witch tutted. "The first time the White Mage came, she mistook my granddaughter Rika here for the owner! To my face! Ridiculous! She''s only fourteen, for Goddess''s sake!"


    Make one offhanded joke about thousand-year-old lolitas, and they hold it over you...


    In her defense, Rika was too small to be fourteen.


    "With how you are running this workshop, I may as well be," Rika retorted. "Now you stay over there while I take over. Okay, granny?" Rika had on a bright, award-winning smile. "So what can I get you, Miss White Mage?"


    "The usual, for a start. And I guess I''ll be browsing. Things... are getting hectic."


    "You''re telling me. Quite a mess, that Wild Hunt. And just when I thought business was picking up with the uptick in adventurers, too... So how are you paying this time? Old-fashioned gald? Or," she leaned over the counter, "Information?"


    "...I heard you have homework."


    "Thought you''d never ask! Come on in—sorry, just the White Mage. We have sensitive stuff in here."


    "Wait," Magni pointed at the Witch, "you''re leaving me alone with her?!"


    Willow already had her back to her, crossing the counter, her hand on the curtains. "You wanted to learn more about the local economy, right? Well, here you go. Ask her anything. Yoko was there when it used to be Roxidel and had been around ever since they first rebuilt Risadel. You won''t find anyone better."


    Besides, Yoko was just playing. Magni would be fine.


    Before the Merchant could protest, Willow was gone.


    "Oh, my!" Yoko crooned, and she rested a hand over Magni''s shoulder. "A glowing review from the White Mage. I suppose this wise one shall entertain you as a favor. You are here for business, yes?" Her eyes glinted. "Then let us talk business."


    Magni whimpered.


    <hr>


    "Sorry about the mess. We''re swimming in herbs lately, and we were just getting them processed."


    One would think an apothecary would be more careful about their regents, but boxes of Thread Whistles were left out in the opening. Healing Bellflowers were washed up and laid out to dry on the tables. There were even half-filled fermentation jars along a counter. A breeze could send everything flying.


    Maybe she was reading too much into it, but Nikolas''s herb-gathering luck seemed to be making waves.


    Rika hopped over one of the boxes that had fallen over. Fortunately, they were just empty. "Granny and I had an argument about how we should use the [Synthesis] spell. She wasn''t happy about what I said."


    Willow stepped over them. "Was this about how Rosarium industrialized the potion-making process?"


    "Yup. We can cast [Synthesis] at each step, so why bother with the traditional methods? Now get this: she''s making me brew a sleeping potion with a purity of at least ninety percent. No Skills. No shortcuts. Nothing but this old alchemy set. Crazy, right?"


    It was crazy alright.


    Purity was everything. It was what separated a mediocre alchemist from a great one. You could have the best ingredients and the best tools money could buy, but if the purity was too low, it was no better than the common variants of the concoction. To maximize the purity, Skills were practically required.


    "And she''s fine with you having my help?" Willow asked.


    "It''s alchemy. Facts are facts. Buying the answer is no different from reading it off a book or figuring it out for myself. She doesn''t care how I got it, only that I got it right." Rika huffed. "So far, the best I made was eighty-eight percent."


    They went into the lab, a spacious chamber reinforced with stone walls that felt relatively empty save for the big table at the center. The table itself was brimming with mysterious energy, and carved into the surface was the titular symbol of the yin and yang. On it, a set of scrolls and flasks were prepared on each side. The ingredients were the exception, neatly arranged in a line atop a cloth. The Blue Musky flowers stuck out, wafting their relaxing aroma.


    Rika nimbly hopped on a big box. Willow stood behind her, looking over her head to see a book on the table''s edge. The Alchemist''s Handbook, Fourth Edition. It showed its age, fraying at the edges. If the cover was barely legible, then Willow could only imagine the words on the pages were worse. Yet...


    "What a rare find," she muttered. "Outdated, but still holds up to modern standards."


    "Really? That''s a relief. Wish ink wasn''t so precious, or I''d write myself a copy."


    "Borrowed it?"


    "Mhm. Really annoying, asking for help from the other workshops."


    With a pair of tongs usually meant for glassware, Rika dragged over a scroll and unfurled it.


    "Everything seemed fine up until the sixth step. See here? Should be a transparent green, but it''s blue and murky. I thought I did something wrong. Changed the heat, redid the steps, rechecked the ingredients—but nope. Nothing." She rubbed a smudge off her glasses. "At some point, I thought the wrinkly fox gave me the wrong instructions. So I pushed through with the rest of the steps anyway. N-Nothing bad happened, I promise!" she added, seeing Willow''s frigid gaze. "It still turned into a sleeping potion in the end!"


    Willow had half a mind to scold her for it but thought better of it. It was not like this world had the internet to double-check one''s answers on the fly. Sometimes, the only way forward was trial and error, plus a healthy amount of caution. She would let it go. For now.


    "This sixth step," she said. "Exothermic or endothermic?"


    Rise looked at her blankly. "Uh..."


    Ah. Right. Different world. She kept on forgetting that.


    "Sorry, I misspoke. In vis mana or ex vis mana?"


    "Oh, ex vis mana."


    "So you''re boiling it to extract the mana?"


    "Yes...?"


    Everything has mana, each with their own innate properties. Alchemists mix, extract, and even discard mana from their ingredients and use the physical elements as a medium. From there, potions were not too different from a conventional spell. Spells in a bottle, as it were.


    The problem was when the physical laws failed to play nice.


    "...Okay. I think I understand now."


    Rika balked. "Did you figure something out already?"


    "Just a theory. Have you tried using a cold scroll instead?"


    "Of course not. Mana wouldn''t come out if I did."


    "Humor me."


    The little Alchemist gave her a look but obliged with a shrug. She replaced the heating scroll with a freezing one. There was no other change to the setup, but it was all she needed. Despite her stature, each step was done swiftly and cleanly as her tail bounced with every way she moved throughout the alchemy table, like it was second nature. She must''ve tried and failed dozens of times to be this proficient. And when she reached the sixth step...


    The blue murky concoction had turned transparent green exactly as the instructions said it should.


    "...Eh?" Rika almost had her entire body turned over the table trying to look at the flask. "Eh?! Just like that? How does that even work?!"


    Willow pulled the girl away because it was getting a little dangerous. Now, how to explain Le Chatelier''s Principle in the context of alchemy...


    "The solution is reversible. Boiling the solution to extract mana is common sense, but for some solutions like this, it can backfire," Willow explained. "All things seek balance. Adding heat will force the scales to tilt the other way to compensate. So, it partially reverts back to its ingredients—and the mana stays locked up, reducing purity."


    "Balance..." The word made Rika frown in thought. "You almost sound like Granny. Are you saying all of alchemy has the potential to reverse?"


    Quick on the uptake, as always. Rika would do well if she attended the Magic Towers.


    "Depending on the conditions, yes," Willow said. "This might be what your grandmother is trying to teach you. [Synthesis] skips the work and the process at the cost of your mana. But if the conditions are wrong, the product might undo itself midway. Best case scenario, the potion will be less pure. Worst case? Boom."


    "Oh, no..." Rika held her head, ears pressed flat. "I wish the Goddess would just tell me these things when I got the Skill. Granny is going to be so smug about this..."


    "...Relying on the enlightenment of the Divine Glass can only go so far. A little bit of embarrassment now could save your life."


    "Easy for you to say," Rika groused. "Have you ever argued with your own teacher? And lost?"


    "...I did. In front of the entire classroom." Willow paused. "It was not pleasant."


    A silence hung over the two.


    Rika coughed. "Well. Glad I''m never going to the Collegium then. Any other surprises?"


    "The [Synthesis] spell does have an inherent workaround."


    "Eh?" Her ears perked up. "R-Really?"


    "When you reach a proficiency of Silver, the [Synthesis] spell has this exploitable quirk where—"


    Pomf!


    A big fluffy tail smothered her face.


    Willow pushed it away, blinking until she found her focus, and glared at the little Alchemist. "As I was saying..."


    "No, no! Stuff it, sister." Rika wielded her own tail like it was a weapon. "You can sell me that info later, when you buy another set of mana potions. Honestly, you act like an education should be free or something."


    ...Willow never realized a statement could sound so sad until she heard it.


    Taking Willow''s silence for obedience, Rika lowered her tail. She sighed. "But now what? We can''t extract the mana when it''s cold."


    "...I''m not familiar with eastern alchemy, so this is just a guess," Willow slowly said, taking a step back in case Rika would silence her with that tail again, "but isn''t that what the yin and yang runes on the table are for?"


    Rika made a face. Scrambling, she dove into the scroll. With her nose so deep, the only things Willow could see were her big ears twitching like mad from behind the parchment...until they stopped.


    Rika dropped the scroll.


    "The alchemy sets were placed on the wrong sides!"


    Willow was left to watch the rest unfold. And she had to admit, it was scary.


    The little Alchemist was ballistic. She blazed through the last several steps of the assignment, not even blinking. Not once. Possessed, like a demon. She brewed the potion to completion, enriching the latent magic with each pass. Once the last ingredient—some finely crushed Blue Musky flowers—was stirred in, the end product was a corked bottle of hazy lavender.


    The moment of truth. Rika pulled out a device, similar to a pocket watch, where a crystal shard stuck out like an antenna. She pressed it onto the bottle. The two watched as the needle turned from zero to...


    "...ninety-six percent?" Rika whispered. "I heard this much could almost knock out a dwarf!"


    Ninety percent was the standard. But ninety-five percent and above—that was the battlefield of masters.


    Willow found herself staring at Rika, who cradled the bottle to her cheek like it was liquid gold, and she had a thought. If Rika had been doing it wrong, how did she get as high as eighty-eight percent in the first place? The adjustments needed to be ridiculously precise. If things were flowing in the way she thought they were...


    ...was she looking at the next Grand Alchemist?


    "Oooh~! I gotta show this to Granny Yoko!" Rika grabbed Willow by the hand. "Come on!"


    "H-Hey!"


    Out of the lab. Through the hall. They bowelled through the stuff in their way, casting a breeze strong enough for Healing Bellflowers to wind up on Willow''s forehead. They ran until they burst through the curtains and back into the Red Apothecary''s storefront.


    "Look, look, look! Granny Yoko! I did it! I actually—huh?"


    While they were gone, the tables had been moved, all save for one. The table had the goods on display cleared off, and replacing them was a large set of empty old jars spread evenly throughout the top. There, the Merchant and the Witch stood on opposite sides. Tense. Solemn.


    To the right was the Witch. Her wicked smile was gone. She was stiff as a gargoyle, and the only thing moving was her finger on her cane like a trigger.


    To the left was the Merchant. Gone was the coward, the sniveling, pathetic excuse of a wolf. Sharp ears and even sharper eyes were locked forward, her face etched in a perpetual scowl.


    "White Mage, just in time." Even as she addressed her, the Merchant''s gaze never left her foe, as if looking away would lose her the war. "I have come to learn about herbs found only around Risadel. They''re considered precious in other parts of the region. If I could procure the goods and sell them to the apothecaries or guild branches outside of Risadel, I would have enough funds to feed Sven for a month. Miss Yoko has been kind enough to offer these jars at a discount to begin my endeavors."


    "...And how are you paying?" Willow asked but felt she already knew the answer. "Your money is still locked up in your wagon in the repair shop."


    "Quite right." Magni held up a palm. "I need to borrow 20 gald."


    "..."


    <hr>


    "Good doing business with you! Please come again~!"


    Rika waved as the Merchant and White Mage left with their arms full of empty jars that they bought for only 20 gald. They were too occupied to wave back, but Magni smiled widely enough for the both of them. That was the last Rika saw before Granny Yoko relinquished the telekinesis on the door and the bells chimed their mystical chimes.


    Rika lowered her hand, waiting for the chimes to go quiet.


    "Hilarious," the Witch smiled. "Pitiful but hilarious. I hope that little wolf comes again. It won''t be as interesting with just the White Mage."


    "...Granny. When will you drop the illusions and the creepy old lady act?"


    "You will understand when you are older, when you''re surrounded by lovestruck fools, harassed by so-called paramours."


    "It couldn''t have been that bad."


    "Never underestimate the foolishness of men and women! If my past admirers ever hear of me, they would come from all corners of the Kingdom—and even the ends of the world! Like roaches!" Granny Yoko shuddered in revulsion. "The things they say and do to get your attention..."


    "Well, can''t you try something else?" Rika grumbled. "We barely make ends meet because you keep scaring the customers away."


    "We will manage just as we always have, brat! Besides, our regular seems fine with my appearance."


    "I bet that''s because she already figured it out," Rika muttered.


    "Bah! My disguise is perfect! How could she possibly have seen through me, a master of the illusionary school, Mistress of the Mist?!"


    <hr>


    Nobody could be that cartoonishly hideous. A witch could only be so ugly before it became too much to be played straight. It was no hard stretch to assume Yoko used potions for a temporary transformation or an illusion spell. Then there were the fox ears, the mischief, her name, and the use of eastern alchemy—textbook tropes of the elusive kitsune.


    And in what modern light novel or JRPG world would there be an ugly kitsune?


    Even without the tropes, some of the highest-level Alchemists were magnates of the beauty industry for a reason. Skin rejuvenation and de-aging formulas were sold to the highest bidder. A skilled alchemist wouldn''t let themselves fall from grace so hard if they could help it, no matter their age.


    Conclusion: Yoko was in disguise, perhaps played for laughs, like avoiding her ex-boyfriends or something, or perhaps to hide from pursuers due to her relation with royalty in this world''s version of an "eastern" nation. Or brought ruin to a kingdom or two.


    All the more reason to keep tabs on the Red Apothecary.


    "I''ll pay you back as soon as I return these to the wagon." Magni hefted the jars to get a better grip, giggling like they''re her babies. "Oh, I can''t wait! It would be like I''m a real Merchant again!"


    "Right. Don''t mention it."


    "No, really. Thanks. I don''t think there''s anyone in the Kingdom who would throw money around like you do."


    "Mhm."


    Frankly, Willow was treating her like one of those NPCs who start off insignificant until, with enough investment, they sell you the equivalent of the Infinite -1 Sword. She had her doubts. A lot of doubts, actually, but helping out couldn''t hurt—so long as it was within budget.


    "By the way," Magni began, "about what you said last night. Are you really sure something would go down between Nikolas and Gaius?"


    "...It''s tradition," Willow said. "In Risadel, people pick a fight one way or another. Guys especially. Happens often enough that the guildhall officiates a betting pool. With the way his party was set up and his personality, I figured he would take issue with something eventually. But it''s only a guess."


    "A guess? You make it sound like a prophecy."


    Willow snorted. "At least I''m not saying any dates."


    She was not too far off the mark so far. If she was right about this next part, then she could consider the ''plot'' well underway. Hopefully, she still had a few days to prepare before anything big happened. When was the last time she trained her Skills?


    "Funny you mention it, actually. This could happen next year. Next month. Next week." Magni giggled. "Or today, while we''re out here talking! Guess we''ll find out when we find out, huh?"


    "..."


    "...White Mage? What''s wrong? Why did we stop?"


    Willow gulped. "Change of plans. We''re heading to the guild."


    "H-Huh? White Mage, what has gotten into you? Are we really—hey! Careful with those! They''re thick, but it''s still made of glass! W-Wait up!"


    <hr>


    Willow''s heart pounded as she barreled through Bard Street. Everything else was a blur, her sights set on the guildhall building atop that hill. She at least had the sense to notice Magni keeping apace beside her.


    Rearing up from the hill''s curve, she heard noise. It was still too early in the day for any commotion. Not for any celebration, nor for any announcement.


    Upon the entrance of the guildhall, she could make out shouts, cheers, and hollers. There was nobody to berate or glare at her when she threw open the doors, because everyone was too focused on something else, forming a ring around today''s show.


    She dumped the jars onto an abandoned table before marching through the crowd, pushing through the broad and lanky arms of Dragon Tale''s adventurers, only to bump into someone''s back. That person gasped. They spun around.


    Claire the Cleric and Willow the White Mage''s eyes met. Surprise and worry filtered through the woman''s features. Her lips parted, like she was about to say something, but stopped.


    Slowly, their gazes turned to the fight.


    To Nikolas on his knees.


    To Gaius towering over him.


    They all had come back from their quest. It had only been one goddamn day.