Interlude One
“Fufu, that useless man is finally gone,” Wendy muttered to herself, savoring a solitary tea time in the workshop.
Born into a soldier’s family, Wendy had honed her swordsmanship from a young age, whether due to her environment or innate talent. Those around her buzzed with excitement, speculating that she would become a knight or adventurer. But Wendy herself was preoccupied with an entirely different concern: no matter how old she got, her chest refused to grow.
In between sword practice, she researched tirelessly, but there was no convenient method to enlarge her chest. Her last hope lay in alchemy. Even if it wasn’t possible now, perhaps in the future, she could concoct such a potion. She sought out renowned alchemists, but ordinary ones wouldn’t take on a girl with neither magical power nor knowledge as a disciple. That was until Magnus welcomed her. Initially, Wendy reluctantly became his apprentice, as he was still relatively unknown. However, watching him concoct various new potions gradually raised her expectations.
But those expectations were betrayed. Magnus was passionate about compounding potions to cure curses or diseases, but he showed no interest in a potion to enlarge chests. He claimed he made potions to help those in need, but to Wendy, it was an affront that she wasn’t included among them.
Moreover, attempting her own compounding research required rare materials, which were prohibitively expensive. Even when Magnus fulfilled requests from wealthy nobles or merchants, he only charged standard rates, leaving Wendy’s income far too meager to afford such materials.
Meanwhile, her female acquaintances continued to develop physically, naturally attracting boyfriends. Conversations with them increasingly revolved around romance, leaving Wendy feeling more and more isolated.
But those days were over. From now on, she would refuse requests from the poor and take only those from the wealthy, charging “appropriate” fees. With that, she could buy the rare materials she’d been unable to afford and finally concoct her long-desired bust-enhancing potion.
Chime!
The bell at the gate rang, and Wendy strode outside with enthusiasm.
Standing there was a man who looked every bit the butler.
“I’m from Baron Tigrus’s household. We urgently need a high-grade healing potion. Can you help us?”
Hearing this, Wendy smirked inwardly. A request from a noble right off the bat?
She had already set her fees based on noble ranks.
“Sure, but it’ll cost you a hundred gold.”
“Huh? It used to be much cheaper…”
“This is the proper price.”
The messenger grimaced for a moment but reluctantly handed over a pouch of gold coins.
“Well, if you can compound it quickly…”
“Leave it to me. I’ll whip it up in no time.”
With that, Wendy returned to the workshop.
Wendy had never compounded a healing potion herself, but Magnus had left behind detailed notes and records when he abandoned the workshop, so the materials were well-documented.
“Oh, a simple healing potion? Even a high-grade one just uses fancier materials, right?”
The notes didn’t mention anything particularly difficult. Besides, she had watched Magnus compound potions daily and felt confident she knew the process.
Buoyed by this confidence, Wendy tossed the specified ingredients into the alchemical cauldron.
“Let’s see… finely chop Moondew Grass, simmer it, and when it turns translucent, add a pinch of Fire Lizard Tail and Wyvern Innards.”
She stirred the cauldron slowly while heating it.
“Huh?”
The ingredients were supposed to dissolve into the Moondew Grass broth, forming a clear potion, but for some reason, the mixture began to darken.
She had followed the steps exactly. Yet, no matter how much she stirred, the contents only grew blacker.
Sweat beaded on Wendy’s forehead.
She had never seen Magnus’s high-grade healing potions turn out like this. He had simply added ingredients and heated them, just as she was doing. Something was wrong, but the notes offered no guidance on what to do in such a situation.
Wendy’s once-confident expression grew increasingly pale.
“This is wrong… why…?”
What resulted was a black liquid that seemed more likely to worsen a wound than heal it.
“Why, why!?”
She tried adding nearby ingredients and lowering the cauldron’s temperature, but the blackened liquid remained unchanged. Glancing out the window, she saw the messenger, who had initially waited patiently, now frowning and irritably kicking pebbles.
“This is bad. I have to do something… wait, that’s it!”
Looking around the workshop, she spotted several bottles of mid-grade healing potions.
Anything to get through this moment would do.
With that thought, Wendy grabbed a bottle of mid-grade potion, rewrote the label, and rushed outside.
Seeing her, the messenger’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he looked relieved.
“Oh, that was quick work!”
“Y-yeah, right? Here you go.”
“Thank you. We’re saved.”
With that, the messenger departed.
Wendy let out a sigh.
“Phew, to think I’d stumble so soon. No, it’s fine. My goal isn’t to become an alchemist. As long as I get the money…”
And so, she continued with such haphazard dealings thereafter.
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