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~Chapter 1~
The herbal shop was filled with the smell of dried herbs, preserved extracts, and reagents.
Bang!
The loud slam of the doo+-+r, as if someone meant to break it off its hinges, shattered the shop’s quiet peace.
Shariette set down the mortar and pestle she was using and picked up a spray bottle from the shelf.
—Pest Repellent—
The crooked, childlike handwriting on the label dangled loosely.
“Hey, Crow! This isn’t what you promised! Are you messing with me?!”
The floor thudded as a burly man stomped in.
“It doesn’t work at all! You took two Luca gold coins for one bottle of herb powder and scammed me! I won’t let this—”
“Did you take two spoonfuls in the morning and two at night, four spoons total a day?”
“—go… What?”
Shariette rested her chin on her hand and asked lazily. The man, who had been ready to throw a punch, faltered.
“You didn’t forget to take it and then swallow several days’ worth in one go, did you?”
“J-just once…”
“You drank alcohol too, didn’t you? I told you not to because it would weaken the effect.”
“…”
“Oh, so you mixed it with alcohol?”
Is she a mind reader?
The man, standing there with his mouth hanging open, slowly lowered his hand.
Shariette’s eyes narrowed.
“So it wasn’t medicine, it was a cocktail you made. And now you’re here to complain?”
Her turquoise eyes glinted coldly.
“N-no, that’s not what I meant…”
He stammered. As his temper cooled, rational fear took its place.
This white-haired apothecary might be small enough to crush with one hand, but she was notorious for her nasty temper.
They say she’ll dig up a rotting grave if she has a grudge to settle.
She was also famous for being obsessed with money, jewels, and anything that sparkled.
That’s why she was called the “White Crow.”
Anyone who went by an animal nickname instead of a proper name was rarely normal.
He swallowed nervously.
“I just… well… Refund! I want a refund! Anyway, I didn’t get the effect I paid for!”
Pest.
Shariette sized up his weight with a glance.
Repellent…?
With regret, she set the spray bottle down.
He looked too heavy to carry away by herself.
The man avoided her gaze, which felt like it was taking apart his limbs joint by joint.
“Well, maybe you could just give me a new—”
Crack!
Before he could finish, a small knife stabbed into the counter in front of him.
It was a narrow, razor-sharp dagger used for trimming herbs.
“Eek!”
Here she goes again… crazy woman!
The blade was stuck just a finger’s width away from his hand, piercing through a sheet of parchment and into the wooden counter.
“Please read this, sir.”
Her cheerful voice and smile perfectly matched her deceptively normal appearance—
and that made it all the more chilling.
The man’s trembling gaze fell on a sign that hadn’t been there before.
[No exchanges, refunds, or credit]
The unfair policy was one thing, but…
That dark red stain… that’s ink, right?
Surely not blood… right?
“Come again, sir!”
The customer, who had come for a refund but ended up buying new medicine plus liver and stomach supplements, left looking miserable.
Behind him came the cawing laugh and overly cheerful farewell of the shop’s owner.
—Mayrily—
The crooked sign hanging like its owner’s crooked personality swayed in the breeze.
Located at the entrance to the Shadow Forest, past the infamous haunted Willow Hill,
Mayrily sold every kind of herb, legal or illegal.
The only thing the shop didn’t have was a decent shopkeeper.
Especially popular were the unofficial items known only to certain customers—
potions sold for half the usual market price and unbelievably effective.
The White Crow claimed the cheap price was simple to explain:
She didn’t run a licensed pharmacy, and she didn’t have an apothecary’s license.
In plain words—unqualified. Black market. Fraud.
She’d be arrested if anyone reported her, but no one ever did.
Flawed personality or not, the White Crow had been Willow Hill’s doctor for the past two years.
“Well, she’s not completely bad. She even gave me a discount.”
The man consoled himself as he went down the steep hill—just as someone came up.
The newcomer was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a robe that gleamed without a wrinkle despite looking casually draped.
Never seen him before. Outsider?
As he watched, the stranger stopped in front of the shop and stared for a long time at the poorly made sign.
“Heh, I knew Mr. Brun would mess up eventually.”
Shariette had sold him a one-Luca potion for two Luca a few days ago, and now she’d sold him another bottle at full price while pretending to give him a discount.
And she’d upsold him liver and stomach supplements for drinkers!
Humming happily, she polished the gold coins until they gleamed.
Sparkles are the best. They thrill me every time I see them.
The way the light shattered always set her heart racing.
Maybe it was a good start to the day—customers just kept coming.
“Miss Crow, I’m here on an errand for my mom.”
It was the child of Mrs. Ronya, who ran the inn down the road.
While calculating the regular customer’s usual usage, Shariette’s hands worked quickly to measure and wrap the herbs.
“You’re five days early. Tell your mom she should only use one packet of Kyril herb powder per day.”
“But she says it loses its effect if she uses less at a time.”
“She’ll die in three years if she keeps that up.”
The boy, pale with fright at the blunt threat, bolted out the door.
“Lately I’ve had no strength, no energy, and I’m out of breath after walking just a little.”
It was Emil, the writer who lived by the lake.
“Bad diet. No exercise. Poor sleep. Potion addiction.”
She repeated her standard prescription.
“Eat some meat. Drink plenty of water.”
“The deadline’s right in front of me! Just make me one strong potion.”
“Go for a walk every day while the sun’s up.”
“I swear I’ll do it after I finish this book! Really! Come o—”
“Goodbye!”
“Argh! She’s so selfish!”
The disgruntled customer stormed out, clutching the back of his neck.
Click… creeeak—
This time, the door opened slowly. The careful movements marked a first-time visitor.
“A, E, I, O, U.”
Shariette stretched her mouth in all directions to loosen her facial muscles for a friendly look.
Feigning a natural expression was always hard for her.
“Welcome.”
Step, step.
The newcomer walked in with steady steps, wearing a deep green robe.
Customers like this usually came for rare herbs and paid extra without question—
a fee for discretion.
Shariette’s attitude grew friendlier as she calculated the profit.
“What herbs are you looking for?”
“…”
She felt a searching gaze from beneath the hood.
“I’d like a sleeping potion. The strongest you have.”
That voice… sounds familiar.
Noble-born elegance in his pronunciation, unhurried but precise in tone.
The deep, soft voice resonated faintly…
“This isn’t a pharmacy. It’s an herbal shop.”
“I heard there’s a skilled apothecary here called the ‘White Crow.’”
“That’s me, but I’m not an apothecary.”
She denied it bluntly. Selling medicine without a license wasn’t something to advertise.
The man was suspicious—combining noble refinement with the dangerous air of a swordsman.
Even speaking calmly, he radiated pressure and… wait.
No way.
Her throat tightened. She knew only one other person who gave off this feeling.
A shiver crawled up her neck.
When his guarded, wild-animal-like green eyes finally softened, the man pulled back his hood.
Ebony-black hair fell neatly over a perfect forehead.
His finely sculpted features were flawless, like a work of art.
Even the shadows under his eyes, matching his request for a sleeping potion, only enhanced his decadent beauty.
Shiny…
In the center, his crimson eyes glowed like roses carved from glass and jewels—
a red light that ensnared reason itself.
Realizing who he was, Shariette’s heart pounded and her sweaty hands clenched.
“If it works well, I’ll pay you a success fe—”
“Kyaah!!”
Hiss! Spray! Spraysprayspray!
The bottle in her hands blasted its contents at his face.
“…!”
Overcome by sudden drowsiness, the man’s heavy eyelids blinked slowly.
“How…?”
His shocked expression lasted only a moment.
“Kah!”
Spray! Spray spray!
“Wait—”
Spraysprayspray! Hiiisss!
Panicked, Shariette fired mercilessly until she was sure.
His eyes slid shut, and like a princess pricked by a spindle, he collapsed on the spot.
The spray bottle slipped from her hands and rolled across the floor.
The dangling label peeled away, revealing the original one beneath:
—Anesthetic: For Large Predators Only—
