Walter The White stared out the window of his shack, eyes wide, breath shallow, brain desperately trying to reboot.
Outside, the entire population of Mudwater Town—normally a collection of farmers, fishmongers, and extremely average-looking villagers—was now a full-blown heart-eyed, drooling mob of magical infatuation.
One woman was knitting a scarf with Walter 4Ever stitched in glowing thread.
A bard was composing a power ballad titled "Potion of Emotion: I'd Die 4 You (Literally)".
A burly blacksmith was punching love poems into anvils.
Heisenbones peered through a different window and groaned. "They're building a shrine made of cheese. Again."
Walter backed away slowly. "How is this happening? It was supposed to be a mild confidence booster, not… not worship-fueled thirst madness!"
"You added unicorn eyelashes, didn't you?" Heisenbones asked, crossing his arms—well, bones. "That always turns a spell horny."
"It was a garnish!"
Outside, a group of enchanted chickens—also in love—started clucking his name in barbershop harmony.
Walter. Walter. Waaaalt-ER.
He clutched his head. "Okay, okay, think. This can't get worse. At most it'll wear off in twenty-four hours—"
There was a loud knock on the door.
Then another.
Then a third. And fourth. And fifth.
Then someone threw a love poem wrapped around a lit firework through the window.
BOOM.
SIZZLE.
"I'D SET MYSELF ON FIRE FOR YOUUUUU!" someone screamed from the bushes.
Walter hit the floor, rolling across scattered potion scrolls and a knocked-over jar labeled "Emotionally Unstable Pickles." He popped back up. "Right! No time for shame or morals. Time for damage control!"
Operation: Unsimp the Town
"Okay, we'll just reverse it," Walter said, frantically flipping through his potion guidebook. "We'll whip up an antidote. Easy peasy!"
Heisenbones squinted at the chart. "Do you even have an antidote?"
"I do!" Walter said. "It's right here under 'Emergency De-Lustification.'"
"…That's not a word."
"It is now!"
They got to work.
Step one: Water from a pure spring. (They used an old bottle of enchanted seltzer.)
Step two: Powdered basilisk scale. (Substituted with crushed spicy chips.)
Step three: True love's rejection.
"…What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Heisenbones asked.
Walter frowned. "I think… we need someone to break up with the town."
Heisenbones stared. "You want to break up with five hundred people. At the same time."
"Yes."
"Walter, you're about to ghost an entire zip code."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Walter muttered.
The Public Break-Up
They climbed onto the roof of the shack—Heisenbones rattling all the way up like a skeletal maraca—and rang a giant bell Walter enchanted during an earlier, less disastrous potion test called "Attention Please (And Also Slight Explosions)".
The bell rang out a sonic boom of magic and social awkwardness. The mob hushed.
Hundreds of eyes turned toward Walter.
He cleared his throat and activated his megaphone spell. "MY BELOVED TOWN!"
A gasp swept the crowd. Someone fainted. A cow mooed dramatically.
"I… I can't do this anymore," Walter declared, clutching his chest like a stage actor faking death. "It's not you… it's magically induced infatuation."
Another gasp.
Heisenbones muttered, "They're about to go from fangirl to final boss in five seconds."
Walter pressed on. "I need space. I need time. I need you to love yourselves again!"
The potion began to tremble in his hands. He uncorked it and flung it into the air. It burst into a golden mist—sparkly, heart-shaped, and slightly judgmental.
The mist descended across the town like a glittery fog of disappointment.
People blinked.
One by one, they looked around in confusion.
"Why am I holding a plush doll of Walter with a six-pack?"
"Did I really write I'd marry his beard in glitter ink?"
"WHY AM I COVERED IN CHEESE?!"
The entire town broke into collective horror. Several people vomited. A few just ran away screaming. A priest fainted after realizing he'd performed a wedding ceremony between Walter and a breadstick.
Fifteen Minutes Later…
Walter sat slumped in his chair back inside the shack, soaked in glitter, guilt, and leftover potion gas.
Heisenbones plopped beside him and tossed him a healing snack bar. "Well, good news. Nobody's in love with you anymore."
"Yeah," Walter groaned. "Now they all hate me."
Heisenbones shrugged. "Honestly? Progress."
There was a knock at the door.
Walter flinched.
Heisenbones grabbed a broom. "If it's another cheese sculpture, I swear to god—"
They opened the door to reveal someone very different.
A tall, muscular man in golden armor stood there, arms crossed, a badge glowing on his chest.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Walter The White?"
"…Yes?" Walter said.
"I'm Captain Sevrin of the Magical Law Enforcement Division. We've received reports of illegal alchemy, mass enchantment, accidental cult formation, and inciting a cheese-based riot."
Walter smiled weakly. "You can't prove any of that."
"I brought a warrant."
Heisenbones peeked at the paper. "He did."
Walter gulped.
"Well, gentlemen," the captain said, drawing a glowing sword. "You're under arrest."
Walter looked at Heisenbones.
Heisenbones looked at Walter.
"…You got any teleport scrolls?" Heisenbones asked.
Walter grinned. "I got something better."
He grabbed a bottle from the shelf. It was labeled "Plan B: Panic Potion."
He chugged it.
Immediately, he screamed, burst into smoke, and launched through the ceiling like a homemade firework.
Heisenbones watched him go, then turned to Captain Sevrin.
"…I'm gonna walk out the back."