Mandrake Stew Mishap
If I were the hero Noel… she dragged her listless body upright. The bed was soaked in sweat. Clutching her throbbing head, which ached with a dull, grinding pain. Did I drink too much yesterday? She remembered everything from last night perfectly. No drunken slip-ups. She even recalled Yuria getting mad on the walk home. No clue why, though.
First things first, out of bed. Her whole body felt limp, devoid of strength. The floor swayed like an earthquake. Leaning on the corridor wall, she shuffled forward. Toward the kitchen.
Yuria was there. Still in pajamas, like she'd just woken up. She glanced at Noel's face and startled. “Uh… Noel?”
“Ugh, yeah?”
“You okay? You look awful.”
“No… doesn't feel okay.”
A few words in, and her stomach lurched. Like it was bubbling over inside. “W-water…”
“Ah… right. One sec.” Yuria poured a glass and handed it over. Noel took it with both hands, gulping it down. No relief.
“You really should drink in moderation.”
“Weird… I didn't even have that much.” This should've been nothing. She hadn't gone overboard enough to feel this wrecked. Her body felt weaker than before. Back in her hero days, no way.
Yuria pressed a hand to Noel's forehead, checking her temperature. “…You have a fever.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Probably a cold from all that late-night boozing.”
The nausea intensified. “Urk…” Something surged up from her gut. Like she was about to hurl. She fought it down, eyes watering. “……”
Yuria shot her a pitying look, like she was staring at a hopeless case. A bit embarrassing.
“No helping it. Rest up today.”
“R-really? That's okay?”
“Yeah. I can handle the shop alone.”
“But then I'd feel bad…”
“What, acting all formal now?” Yuria smirked. “You were never much help anyway.”
“Ugh…” No comeback for that. True enough.
“So just relax. Help out starting tomorrow.”
“Alright, deal…” Yuria took the empty glass from her hand and patted her back. The gentle touch rocked Noel's body slightly. Warm, soft.
But… “U-urp.” The patting backfired. Stomach roiled harder. Something climbed from deep inside—last night's contents, pushing out. She bolted for the bathroom.
Sitting on the bed, she pondered her sorry state. Why was she dealing with this? Yuria sat by the bedside, bowl and spoon in hand. She scooped some up and brought it to Noel's lips.
The spoon hovered right there. What the hell is this?
“……What's this?”
“Ah.”
“Ah?”
“Say 'ahh.'”
Ahh? Open wide? She was gonna feed her? Embarrassing.
“I can eat it myself. Gimme.” Noel reached for the spoon. But Yuria pulled the bowl back, refusing.
“…Why not?”
“Nope.”
“What? I said I can eat it.”
“I'm feeding you.”
“I'm not that sick. I can handle it.”
“Nope.” Yuria's face hardened, firm as scolding a stubborn kid.
“But come on… mmmph.” Mid-protest, the spoon slipped in. Warm something-or-other filled her mouth. She chewed. Felt like stew.
But… “…Tastes weird.” A bitter edge.
She eyed the bowl. Normal-looking stew. Why the bitterness?
“Oh. Had some potion ingredients left over. Good for you.”
A bit off, but tolerable. Not inedible.
“Yeah? What's in it?”
“Mandrake root.”
“…What?”
Mandrake root. Premium stuff for high-grade potions. Not something you just buy. Had to commission the Adventurer's Guild. Insanely expensive.
And she was eating it in stew. Just for a hangover cold. Nobles couldn't afford this luxury.
She debated spitting it out. “…Can I really have this?”
“Who else? You're the sick one here.”
“But it's crazy expensive. Can't even buy it for money.”
“It's fine. Guild can fetch more later.”
Guilt piled on. Keep eating this?
“You sure? This pricey stuff?”
“Just eat it already.” Second spoonful to her lips. Noel accepted it meekly. Already hooked on being spoon-fed.
Bitter taste flooded her mouth. She swallowed it down. Ate everything Yuria offered. Decent portion. Tough flavor, but for her effort, Noel powered through.
Bowl emptied. Yuria watched the whole time, then spoke. “Good job.”
She petted Noel's head. Mortifying. Like a kid getting rewarded for eating veggies.
Yuria's hand paused. “Wait, why are you so sweaty?”
“D-dunno?”
Yuria stood, grabbed a towel from the wardrobe. “I'll wipe you down.”
“Huh?”
Her hand approached Noel's pajama top. “Arms up. Easier to take off.”
“Wait… I can do it myself…”
“Nope. Listen.”
“U-uh…”
Something felt off about Yuria. More pushy than usual. Noel couldn't resist. Felt compelled to obey. Her tone mixed force with sweetness. Not her normal self. Like hypnosis.
Whatever Yuria said, Noel wanted to do it. Is my head messed up? From the fever? Throbbing too much to think straight? Or…
“Hey, what potions use mandrake?”
“Huh? Why?”
“Just curious all of a sudden.”
“Boosts immunity. Helps blood flow too.”
“So, mainly for what?”
“High-grade disease cures and love potions.”
“…Love potions?”
Bingo. Yuria had slipped her an aphrodisiac. Unintentional, sure, but here they were.
“Get out. Now.”
“W-what? Why?!”
Noel shot up, shoved Yuria out, slammed the door. Back to bed. Hand on chest. Small breasts heaved. Heart racing faster than normal.
No sleep like this. Fuzzy haze. Body heating up. Mandrake's doing, no doubt.
Wasted pricey herbs on nothing. All Yuria's fault. Couldn't even rest easy.
Sitting at her desk, Kirke fiddled with her hair. New habit lately. Loved the swishy feel of long locks. She liked this hair.
Couldn't have it during the Demon King's war. Kept it a short bob then. Long hair hindered battle. Annoying nuisance.
Knights' rule: women in short cuts. Her rule, as captain.
But now? No more captain. Knights disbanded ages ago. War over. Demoted to village guild master.
First post-demotion: grow out her hair. Wanted long, flowing locks like other women. Blue straight hair. That's what she'd craved.
Lately, though, maintaining it was tough. Strands falling out, losing shine. Workload's fault.
Didn't expect guild master to be this hectic. Always noisy, frantic. Echoed battlefield days.
Today especially. Back from a business trip yesterday—backlog piled up. Guild ground to a halt without her. Even a mass no-show yesterday, apparently.
She glared at the subordinate standing at attention, pretending innocence. “Ilene.”
“Yes, Guild Master.”
“Got a complaint.”
“…About who?”
“From the church. Says you're slacking.”
“Cecily, that traitor…”
Kirke sighed deeply. Subordinate or not, this one never listened.
“When will you shape up?”
“…Sorry.”
Always sorry, never changes. That's Ilene. Tempted to fire her, but couldn't. Work competence was top-notch.
Anger boiled, head spinning. “…Back to your desk. Talking to you tires me out.”
Sent her to reception. Punishment later. Calmed down. In knight days, instant execution. But those days were gone. Needed hands now, even lazy ones.
Another deep sigh. Sighing more these days. Gazed out the window. Peaceful village, bustling folk…
An old comrade crossed her mind. Fought the Demon King together. Wonder how the hero Noel was faring? Back home by now? Always talked of returning post-victory.
That guy probably adapted to peace fine. Unlike her.