Chapter 14
Cheshion was appalled by the abbess’s crimes. He had always assumed everything was in order—after all, she had been meticulous during inspections. Whenever medicinal herbs or funds ran short, he had simply replenished them without question. But all that money had been lining her pockets instead.
“I’m ashamed.”
The runaway abbess was eventually caught. She knelt before Cheshion, begging for mercy, but was ultimately banished from the territory.
“The abbess was always so thorough. It’s impossible for Your Grace to personally oversee everything.”
A composed middle-aged nun with black hair bowed respectfully. Cheshion trusted those with black hair—they worked hard to repay his kindness.
“Thank you for saying that. Still, there might be intruders lurking, so I’ll leave Mori here at the convent for a few days. She likes soft bedding, so please provide extra blankets.”
“Understood.”
Gremory stayed at the convent for three days, but no intruders appeared.
With nothing to do, she spent her days lazily gazing out the window. She noticed dozens of patients flooding in daily, far outnumbering the handful of nuns. The place was understaffed.
Worse, some illnesses couldn’t be treated with the convent’s herbs.
‘Huh. I could cure that.’
As a witch, Gremory could spread plagues—or consume them. Diseases like pneumonia? Child’s play. A snack, really.
‘Maybe I should just make a cure-all.’
Bored, she took pen and paper and scribbled a list of ingredients in her messy handwriting: “The Witch’s Panacea.”
When she brought it to Cheshion’s office, he frowned.
“Bull’s eyeballs, golden viper fangs… and lizard demon scales? These are hard to find.”
“If you can’t get them, I will.”
“Wait—are you sure this is medicine? Half of these look like poison.”
“I can make it work. It’ll cure diseases and heal wounds.”
Gremory was the only witch who could heal humans.
Back when she’d found Renya’s corpse, she had tried everything to restore even a part of her. That was how she’d learned to mend human bodies. If she made this medicine, it could treat both illness and injury.
“Fine, I’ll gather them. With the knights’ help, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Thanks. I’ll head back now.”
“Where to?”
“The convent. They’re short-handed.”
Watching her leave, Cheshion sighed. No witch who wants to save lives could be evil.
Then he glanced at the list again—filled with ingredients better suited for a witch’s cauldron.
“Sigh…”
Surely she’s not brewing something to kill us all?
…No. If she wanted to, she would’ve done it already. Mori was just… eccentric.
Just then, a knight from the Northern Snowfields entered.
“You called, Your Grace?”
“I have a question.”
“What is it?”
“Are Northern clans… unusual? Mori seems… unique.”
“Well, yes. Not all Northerners are the same. I lived near the south, so I could communicate, but Lady Mori must be from the deep north. They often have… mysterious abilities.”
“I see. Thank you. You may go.”
Two days later, the ingredients arrived.
Borrowing a giant cauldron from the convent’s kitchen, Gremory tossed everything in and lit the fire.
Bubbling, the grotesque mixture melted together. She stirred it with a long stick, secretly infusing it with mana.
“…Huh.”
As the mana blended in, the concoction glowed an eerie green—like fireflies. A side effect of imperfect mana control. It looked extremely suspicious, but she shrugged and kept stirring.
Finally, the potion was done. She poured it into small vials and handed them to the nuns. Their faces paled at the sinister green glow.
“I-Is this safe to drink?”
“You’re sure we can put this on wounds?”
“Yes. Don’t believe me? I’ll test it first. Give me your arm—I’ll tear it open.”
“NO! We’ll find a volunteer!”
They found one—a construction worker facing amputation.
“It’s gonna get cut off anyway… Might as well try.”
When the nun poured the green liquid on his mangled leg, the wound boiled.
Then—
“Huh?!”
It regenerated. Perfectly.
“My leg! IT’S HEALED! HAHAHA!”
The man laughed wildly, ran around the convent, then sprinted off. Witnessing this, patients swarmed the nuns, demanding the miracle cure.
One hard-of-hearing old man approached Gremory.
“Hehe, what’s this amazing potion called?”
“The Witch’s Potion.”
“Ah! The Beauty’s Potion! What a fitting name! Everyone! It’s called The Beauty’s Potion!”
And so, the witch’s brew became famous as “The Beauty’s Potion.”
“…This is The Beauty’s Potion?”
Cheshion’s face twisted at the sinister green vial. Gremory then handed him a second one—glowing blood-red.
“Green’s for wounds and minor illnesses. Red’s for plagues. The red one was harder to make. It’s just for you.”
“Thank you, Mori. This will greatly benefit our territory.”
“I could make more if we had rarer ingredients.”
“This is enough.”
“I’m heading back to the convent. Word spread fast—everyone’s begging for it.”
“Go ahead. Ah—take a knight with you. It’s late.”
“Why? I’m stronger than most knights.”
“R-Right. Haha.”
After she left, Cheshion stared at the vials. They look like straight-up poison.
Just then—a presence at the window. An intruder. Probably an assassin sent by his political enemies or a spy from the palace.
Cheshion drew a dagger and slashed behind him. The intruder dodged, aiming for his blind spot—
CRASH.
One of the vials shattered, drenching the assassin’s hand in glowing green liquid.
“!”
Cheshion saw the panic in his eyes.
And smirked.
“That’s a deadly poison. One drop on your skin, and your flesh will rot off. Slowly.”
“!!”
“You should wash it off. Now.”
Terrified, the assassin bolted for the window—but Cheshion tackled him.
“SPARE ME! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! LET ME WASH IT OFF!”
“Answer me. Were you targeting the convent?”
“Y-Yes! The abbess was careless—we planned to poison the water supply, but she disappeared!”
“Why poison the convent?”
“To kill the nuns… then spread a plague across your territory!”
“Who ordered this?”
“L-Lord Rupert!”
Rupert. One of his rivals, who loved sending assassins for “entertainment.”
“That’s enough.”
Cheshion ordered the knights to throw the man into the dungeon.
Then he stared at the green liquid on the assassin’s hand.
“…Yeah. That definitely looks like poison.”
