"Anyways..." I wiggled in my seat, doing a small celebratory dance while cross-legged on the chair. "What's my reward this time?"
"Reward?" Master Sylph arched an elegant brow.
"Yeah!" I puffed my cheeks. "My well-earned prize for surviving fifty percent of these ridiculous, borderline sadistic tests."
She took another calm sip of tea, her gaze drifting thoughtfully out the window.
There was a pause.
Then—ever so slightly—her lips curved upward.
A dangerous sign.
"I see," she said smoothly. "So, you would like a reward?"
"Obviously!" I grinned. "Gimme something good, Master!"
Master Sylph delicately set her cup down. That small smile remained—a serene, composed smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Very well," she said. "A reward, as requested."
"Wahoo! Long live Master Sylph, the most generous—!"
"Your reward," she interrupted gently, lifting her hand to cover a rare and suspiciously delicate laugh, "is a temporary reprieve from testing."
My eyes widened. "Wait… really?"
"To spend the next few days grinding one thousand pills and brewing one thousand potions. Day and night. Without pause."
I froze.
My brain took a second to catch up.
"Wait—what?! How is that a reward?!"
Master Sylph answered with her usual composure. "You will be excused from the tests during this period. In addition, I shall provide you with an anti-fatigue pill so you may continue uninterrupted."
I bolted to my feet, horrified. "That's not a reward—that's worst than labor camp!"
"I find that perspective… exaggerated." She lifted her cup and took a measured sip. "The body learns best through action. You did ask for a reward."
"That's abuse!" I yelped, arms flailing.
"Hmm." She tilted her head slightly, as if pondering my objection. "No, I believe it's discipline—framed with generosity."
I slumped back into my chair, defeated, face buried in my hands.
Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the faint sound of a mortar and pestle… laughing at me.
As our very one-sided conversation came to a close, the door creaked open and Lady Nozomi entered with her usual silent grace.
Master Sylph gave her a slight nod. Without a word, Lady Nozomi turned to me, her expression unreadable. Then—like a practiced kidnapper—she grabbed me by the collar and began dragging me out of the room.
"Wha—hey! Wait! I haven't finished processing the trauma of that so-called reward!"
But she ignored my protests. My body moved, but my brain remained frozen in disbelief, still trying to comprehend how "a reward" turned into a sentence worse than death.
By the time I regained awareness, I was already back in the cell—the familiar, soulless chamber where Master Sylph usually tossed me when I misbehaved. Which, according to her, was often.
I looked around at the cold stone walls, the lone flickering lantern, the ominous rows of potion equipment.
"…This is supposed to be a reward?" I muttered, incredulous. "This feels like punishment with extra glitter."
Lady Nozomi reached into her sleeve and retrieved a small, pearlescent pill. She handed it to me with all the ceremony of giving a receipt.
"Here. As instructed by Master Sylph."
I held the pill up and squinted at it. "Is this the anti-fatigue pill?"
Lady Nozomi nodded. "One per week. I'll return with the next dose in seven days."
She turned to leave, but then paused at the door.
"Oh, and… I assume you remember where the equipment is?"
"Of course I do!" I snapped. "I was just here—grinding for twelve hours straight yesterday! My nose still smells like sulfur!"
"Good," she said, already halfway vanished into the shadows. "See you next week."
And with that, she disappeared, leaving me utterly alone with the mortar, the cauldrons, and my soul-crushing reward.
I flopped down on the floor like a discarded rag doll, arms sprawled out, sighing deeply. "I swear, even common criminals get better treatment than this…"
A single droplet of liquid from the ceiling dripped onto my forehead.
I closed my eyes.
My future looked very, very bleak.
For the next few days, I labored like a machine—grinding, stirring, pouring—repeating the same mind-numbing tasks without question, like a perfectly obedient little alchemist automaton.
Each motion strained my arms. My muscles throbbed like they were being slowly roasted over a low flame. My fingers, once nimble, now trembled with every stir of the pot, every precise pinch of powdered root. The anti-fatigue pill kept my body moving, sure—but it did nothing for the brain fog, the mental sludge that thickened in my skull. I was physically tireless and mentally mush.
Then, like the rising of an ominous moon, Lady Nozomi appeared in front of my cell.
"Good morning, Llyne," she chimed with her usual eerie elegance.
I blinked at her, my stirring hand frozen mid-swirl. "It's morning?"
Lady Nozomi lifted her sleeve to cover a small laugh, her eyes glinting with unspoken amusement. "Ah, right. I forgot you were still locked away in here. Making pills and potions. Day in, day out. No light, no fresh air, no freedom."
I stared at her, deadpan. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully, then looked away with a mischievous smile. "Honestly? How could anyone not?"
"A person with a heart," I muttered, flat as a failed souffle.
I handed over the pile of potions and pills I had completed, and she accepted them with the grace of a noble collecting tribute from a peasant.
As she turned to leave, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and—Master said you're allowed to rest for a bit if you'd like. Though, of course, that'll extend your time in here."
"How generous of her," I said, voice thick with sarcasm.
"Yes," Lady Nozomi replied, her eyes lighting up like lanterns. "Master Sylph's compassion is vast as the stars—her wisdom, immeasurable. To be graced by her presence is to feel the very heavens bow in reverence. She is elegant beyond mortal reach. Merciful, though she need not be. Truly, a woman who outshines the moon."
I sighed deeply. "There she goes again…"
I plugged my ears and turned back to my cauldron, pretending the sizzling brew was more interesting than her Master-simping monologue. Eventually, the sound of her footsteps faded, leaving me in blessed silence.
But after some time, I couldn't take it anymore.
With a dramatic groan, I dropped onto the ground, lying flat on my back like a dying fish. I stared up at the ceiling.
"How much longer do I have to stay in here?" I grumbled.
I rolled to one side, then the other. "Soooo boooriiing!"
Sitting up, I cracked my neck and huffed. "My bones… my muscles… I feel like I haven't used them for anything but stirring soup for the last century."
I stood, stretched, and began to exercise right there—jumping jacks, squats, flailing in circles like an uncoordinated duck.
After a few minutes, I paused and muttered, "Nope. Still missing something…"
I inhaled deeply. "Fresh air. I miss the wind…"
Then my memory stirred.
Images of near-death escapes, boulders crashing down on me, sudden drops into death traps, getting thrashed by Master, and countless other traumatic misadventures flashed through my mind like a tragic montage of very bad decisions.
"…Definitely not those life-threatening situations," I declared with a firm nod.
A long silence settled around me.
Then I screamed.
"AARRRGGHHH!!!"
My voice bounced off the pristine, polished stone walls, which sparkled like they had just been cleaned by an obsessive-compulsive saint.
I collapsed to the floor again. "I think I'm going insane."
I looked around the impossibly clean cell. Not even a dust bunny in sight. "There's not even a speck of dust I can play with…"
And then, as if summoned by madness itself, a familiar voice echoed faintly in my mind.
"Rules are meant to be broken!"
"…?"
I bolted upright, ears twitching. "That voice… that sounds… familiar?"
"Who said that again…?"
I scratched my chin, trying to remember.
I scratched my chin, trying to trace the origin through the haze of exhaustion. I mentally flipped through the list of people I'd met so far: Lady Nozomi, Master Sylph, Miss Judy the sadist in disguise, Assistant Van who exploded a pot just by standing near it, those two noisy twins from the kitchen, and—
"Oh," I blinked. "Right. Master Vod."
But instead of his rare moments of brilliance and battle prowess, the memory that popped up was him squealing as Miss Judy tested some new concoction on his earlobes.
A grin tugged at my lips.
'Now he was a lunatic I could admire.'
Then a dangerous thought crept into my head like a rat sniffing cheese.
'If I were Master Vod… what would I do?'
I sat up slowly, eyes gleaming with the kind of mad determination that usually precedes bad decisions. Master Vod—legendary troublemaker, chaotic genius, unlicensed hazard to public safety. If he were trapped in a sparkling clean cell, grinding potions nonstop with no window, no fun, and no one to annoy...
He wouldn't sit quietly and take it.
He'd burn the rulebook, probably eat it too, then try to transmute the ashes into fireworks.