obsession chapter 1

The air in the apothecary hung thick and heavy, saturated with the scent of dried herbs, potent tinctures, and mystical reagents. The quiet peace shattered as the door flew open with a resounding crash. Startled, Shariette set down her mortar and pestle, snatching a spray bottle from a nearby shelf. A label, scrawled with childish handwriting, dangled precariously from its side: Pest Repellent.

“Hey, Raven! This isn’t what I was told! Are you playing me?!” A burly man stomped in, his heavy steps shaking the floor. “This stuff doesn’t work at all! You took two Luca gold coins for a bottle of powdered herbs and cheated me? I won’t—”

“Did you take two spoonfuls morning and night, four spoonfuls a day?”

“—stand for this… What?” The man, who had been brandishing his fists, paused, taken aback by Shariette’s nonchalant question, her chin resting in her hand.

“Or did you forget and gulp down several days’ worth all at once?”

“J-just once…”

“And you probably drank alcohol, too. I told you not to, it diminishes the effects.”

“.…”

“Ah, you mixed it with your drink, didn’t you?” Was she a ghost? The man, who had been gaping at her, slowly lowered his hands. Shariette raised an eyebrow.

“Now that I see it, you made a cocktail, not a medicine. And then what?” Her turquoise eyes glinted sharply.

“No, I, that’s not it…” The man stammered. As his head cleared, rational fear replaced his initial rage. This white-haired apothecary, despite her small stature, was notorious for her fiery temper. She’ll dig up a grave to settle a score, they say. And she was also known for her obsession with anything that glittered—gold, jewels, anything that sparkled. Hence, her nickname: “White Raven.” Rarely was anyone called by the name of a beast instead of their given name, and even more rarely were they normal. He gulped.

“Just, uh, you know… a refund! I want a refund! I-I didn’t see any results anyway!”

Pest. Shariette assessed his weight with her eyes. Repellent…? With a sigh of regret, she set the spray bottle back down. He looked too heavy to carry out alone. The man subtly avoided her gaze, which seemed to dissect his limbs joint by joint.

“Or, uh, maybe just exchange it for a new—”

Thwack! Before he could finish, a small knife plunged into the counter, barely a finger’s width from his hand. It was a narrow, sharp dagger, the kind used for preparing herbs.

“Eek!” Not this again, crazy…! The blade had pierced both a piece of parchment and the wooden countertop.

“Read it, customer.” Her cheerful voice and smile were unnervingly at odds with the situation, making it all the more terrifying.

The man’s trembling gaze fell upon a newly posted notice. [No Exchanges, Refunds, or Credit.] Ignoring the questionable business ethics… That dried, dark red stain, is that ink? Not something else, like blood… right…?

***

“Come again, customer!” The customer, who had come in for a refund but ended up buying a new potion, a liver tonic, and stomach medicine, stumbled out the door, groaning. Shariette’s cackling laughter and overly cheerful farewell followed him. A crooked sign, askew like its owner’s personality, seemed to mock his retreating figure. – Maylily.

Maylily, the infamous landmark of the neighborhood, was situated at the edge of the Shadow Woods, just past the haunted Willow Hill. From legal to illicit, Maylily stocked every imaginable herb and potion. The only thing missing was the owner’s sanity. The unofficial, word-of-mouth items were the real deal—potions brewed at half the market price, yet incredibly effective. According to the Raven herself, the reason for the low prices was simple: it wasn’t a licensed pharmacy, and she didn’t have an apothecary license. In other words, a quack. A fake. A fraud. Naturally, she’d be arrested if someone reported her, but no one did. Despite her personality flaws, the White Raven had been Willow Hill’s resident healer for the past two years.

“Well, she’s not all bad. She even gave me a discount.” Rationalizing to himself as he descended the steep hill, the man passed someone coming up. The stranger’s imposing height, sturdy build, and impeccably clean, flowing robe, worn with a casual grace, struck him as unfamiliar. I’ve never seen him before. An outsider? As he watched, the stranger stopped in front of Maylily, studying the crudely made sign for a long moment.