🔊 TTS Settings
~Chapter 7~
“Crow sister, give me some dawnweed and whisperflower.”
“Seventy pennies. From the day after tomorrow, go to Mr. Parma’s pharmacy in the upper village instead.”
“Why? Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I got caught being a witch and I’m going to prison.”
“Ah! I knew it…!”
What do you mean, you knew it? What kind of person do you think I am?
For two days, Shariette had to move so busily it felt like even two bodies wouldn’t be enough.
“Hey! Don’t mix those together!”
“They look the same to me, though?”
“With observation skills that bad, how did you even investigate me?”
That was why she used two more bodies.
Men who were sturdier and stronger than her.
Joseph carefully packed two boxes of herbs that looked exactly the same to him.
She really holds grudges forever.
Maybe it was because she was still salty about him testing her earlier, but this Crow girl not only worked him to the bone, she also pecked at him every chance she got.
Petty, insignificant… but persistent.
“‘Article 3, Clause 2. Party A shall provide Party B with all necessities required for the performance of duties and daily life. This includes both material and non-material support.’”
She could recite the entire contract from memory, despite pretending not to read it before, and even pointed to Joseph as part of the “non-material support.”
“You’re not just clever—you’re thorough. Guess I don’t have to worry about being scammed.”
Surprisingly—or maybe not—Noxian seemed amused at handing over one of his men to her.
At least until it became his business.
“Seems like you’re forgetting who the employer is, apothecary.”
Noxian spoke lowly.
He dropped a sack full of plants that looked like poisonous weeds to him, but which she insisted were medicinal herbs.
Shariette’s eyes widened at the excellent cost-effectiveness of this labor.
Normally she would have had to go back and forth to the Shadow Forest ten times—
but this man had brought them in a single lazy trip!
She was already wondering if she could find another use for him when she replied:
“All of this will go into your medicine.”
“So you want me to gather it myself?”
“Well, you should have given me a week like I asked.”
Pffft—Joseph was barely holding back laughter to the point of struggling to breathe.
They’d already signed the contract, and with nothing more to haggle over, this Crow girl was boldly answering Noxian back without giving an inch.
Noxian raised one eyebrow slightly.
“Why do you speak politely to him but talk to me so casually?”
Shariette rolled her eyes while gauging his reaction.
Maybe it’s an old habit?
It just felt like she could get away with it. After all, as long as her identity wasn’t discovered, he was the one who needed her sleeping potion.
Or—
“Maybe it’s because you’re irritating…”
“…”
“Pfft!”
Joseph finally failed to hold it in, rolling on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
She called him irritating! She actually told Noxian Rubellot he’s irritating!
This Crow lady is way funnier than I thought!
But his laughter didn’t last long.
Bang!
Someone burst through the door in a rush.
“Hey, look at this! Found them in the Shadow Forest…!”
Several villagers carried in two collapsed people.
Shariette rushed over to examine them.
She saw a web-like rash spreading over their bodies.
One of them was still conscious, but the other…
This one’s too late.
No pulse. No breathing. No pupil reaction.
She looked away from the body already stiffening with rigor mortis.
“Rictura poison. I even put up warning signs not to go in there.”
Because of its location, Mayrily served as both an herbal shop and, unofficially, an information post for the Shadow Forest.
One of the villagers spoke up in their stead:
“Well, you know Rictura horns go for crazy prices on the black market. They thought if they got one, they’d strike it rich.”
Looked like they’d had a different kind of “life-changing” moment.
Noxian quietly watched Shariette move with the ease of someone well-practiced.
The lightheartedness from earlier was gone.
Less than three minutes after going into the back room, she returned with two potion bottles.
She ignored one patient and injected both bottles into the other.
The man who regained consciousness looked at his still-unconscious companion and grabbed Shariette by the collar.
“…!”
“Why… why only me?! What about him?!”
“Hey, calm down—”
Others tried to stop him, but he didn’t seem to hear.
Shariette dangled limply in his grip until a hand reached out from behind and pried his fingers off her collar.
It was Noxian.
Feeling the crushing force twist his hand, the man flinched before collapsing to his knees and begging.
“P-please save him! You can save anyone, right? People said you saved them…!”
“He’s already too late.”
Shariette shook her head with a completely calm expression.
“No medicine can save someone who’s already dead.”
It was a verdict as cruel as it was certain.
There wasn’t even a comforting lie—though Willow Hill’s residents were used to it.
The outsider was not.
“No… No way… Please, check again. He’s alive, he has to be—please…! You can’t just—!”
The man screamed until the villagers pulled him away.
The apothecary was left cold in the wake of his cries.
Noxian, who had been silently watching, asked:
“You seem unfazed seeing a corpse.”
“In this line of work, of course I am.”
Shariette shrugged.
She’d seen far worse in Argen.
Being blamed for not saving someone was normal—nothing special.
Noxian’s expression looked oddly dark.
Not what you’d expect from the villain, demon, and devil responsible for a massacre.
Is he suddenly doubting my skills?
Shariette added casually:
“Don’t worry. I just mean I can’t save the dead. If you’re still breathing, I’ll save you.”
Her eyes flicked toward a box on the left-hand shelf.
It was old, decorated with carved vines, and tightly shut.
Yes, no medicine could revive the dead.
That was why the Argen family had poured everything into secretly researching immortality and undying life.
Though they failed in the end.
Medical science, priestly blessings, witch’s elixirs, all kinds of magic and powers—none could conquer death.
The man before her, Noxian Rubellot, was proof.
Hadn’t he displayed their bodies on the city walls until they rotted away?
If Argen had achieved immortality, they would have already returned from the grave.
Some things are better left to fail.
It was a good thing—
though not for the Marquess of Argen’s family, who had devoted their lives to that research.
On the morning of the third day they’d agreed on—
A time when most people slept, unless they were cursed with something like insomnia.
“Hey! Big trouble!”
Crash!
Someone burst into the tavern on the first floor of Ronya’s inn.
“Fire! Over by the Shadow Forest—it’s the Crow’s shop!”
By the time people ran over, Mayrily was already engulfed in crimson flames.
Given the nature of an herbal shop, there was fuel everywhere, and the fire roared hungrily.
“What about the Crow? Where’s the White Crow?”
No one answered, only exchanged anxious glances—until an unusual group approached.
A dangerously beautiful man and several knights in uniform.
“My lord, it’s dangerous!”
Ignoring their attempts to stop him, the man walked straight toward the flames.
“My sleeping potion is burning. What could be more dangerous than that?”
“…What?”
“If you don’t want to die, get back. And find the culprit.”
It was a direct order assuming arson rather than an accident.
“You mean it’s arson?” a knight asked.
“I can sense magic. If the owner wasn’t trying to commit suicide, then someone’s responsible.”
Facing the inferno with only a sword, the man added:
“Oh, and keep your tongues still.”
With no explanation or context, the subordinates quickly dispersed—none wanting to make him repeat himself.
Noxian pictured the shop’s layout in his mind from the last two days.
He could see the woman bustling around inside.
He clicked his tongue. She’d better be alive.
“…Fetching this apothecary is turning out to be trouble.”
Turning toward the second floor, he gauged his entry point. Without hesitation, he pushed off the ground.
