Selling Potions (1)

I scoured every post I could find on the boards, hunting for anyone who'd been through the same thing I had.

No matter how hard I searched, every result was about mental changes. Not a single case like mine turned up.

In the end, I had no choice but to write a post myself.

Being an Awakened community, the replies came fast. But they were all things everyone already knew. Nothing close to the answer I was looking for.

Does awakening ever change your gender?

I was about to hit post when I hesitated, then deleted the whole thing. Pulling my eyes from the monitor, I looked into the mirror.

Long black hair. Deep, dark circles under the eyes. And beneath all that, a beautiful woman staring back at me, her looks impossible to hide.

A full day had passed, and this new body still felt completely foreign.

When the gates opened, the world went to hell — just enough hell to still be livable, barely.

Hunters wiped out the monsters, but nobody knew when the next ones might come pouring out, so civilization remained a complete mess. The economy was fucked. Public safety was even more fucked. It wasn't quite a full post-apocalypse, but it was definitely a national state of emergency.

A world where you had to worry about today's bread — and if you actually had bread, you'd just find something else to worry about.

In a world like that, awakening was nothing short of salvation. It wasn't just about material wealth. It was a way to protect yourself in a society where law and order had completely collapsed.

So when the signs of awakening hit me, I cried tears of pure joy.

The ultimate jackpot of the post-gate world. Born with a silver Awakened spoon in my mouth.

Before the gates, I'd been an ordinary office worker. After, I'd been just another refugee. I'd managed to scrape my way into a refugee apartment, but the old currency had turned into toilet paper overnight, and my finances got a hard reset. I'd been scraping by day to day as a temp laborer on the Seoul Reconstruction Project — and then this stroke of luck landed in my lap.

Become an Awakened. Get my hunter license. Escape this refugee camp and live like an actual human being.

That was what I'd been thinking when I fell asleep happy last night.

When I opened my eyes, I was a woman.

"What the hell is this…"

The stranger in the mirror left my mind spinning. I'd known awakening could change your appearance. Beastfolk skills could give you ears or a tail — worst case, turn you into a full-on furry. But turning into a woman? I'd never heard of that.

Sure, I'd always had a thing for gloomy, big-chested girls. That didn't mean I'd wanted to become one.

"Status window."

I shoved the confusion aside and called up my status. I needed to figure out why this had happened. Some skills let you transform into other people, supposedly. If I'd awakened something like that and used it in my sleep without realizing, that would explain everything — and maybe point me toward a way back into my original body.

Reality, once again, refused to cooperate.

My class is… Witch?

I combed through every corner of the status window and found nothing that could account for the change. And the class itself was anything but ordinary.

Day-one Awakened or not, I liked to think I knew as much as the next person. Classes didn't come with a gender-swap feature. Gender wasn't even listed. A swordsman was a swordsman. A mage was a mage. Thinking Ah, she uses magic, so she must be a witch was a one-way ticket to getting canceled. "If a woman uses magic, she's just a mage, you gender-insensitive asshole" — yeah, that was the kind of response you'd earn.

I forced down the random thoughts bubbling up and started poking around the status window.

I heard there was a community function…

Besides the status window, the System supposedly gave Awakened access to a private community — rankings, a trading system, that kind of thing. Why those features existed was anyone's guess, but having them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beat not having them. The status window and the gates were already unreal enough; questioning this stuff was a waste of time.

Lucky for me, either way. The community meant I could gather information instead of stewing alone.

And after a full day of digging through posts, I'd learned one thing for certain: there was not a single case like mine anywhere.

So I can't go back? For real?

My head went blank. Was the man I'd been just… gone? Then what was I now?

Then again — wasn't this gloomy, busty body genetically superior to my old one? Honestly, if someone had offered me a magical girl TS pill, I wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe I should just treat this like I'd caught a TS beam to the face and call it a day.

A long, hard think later, the conclusion I landed on was closer to resignation than anything else — a tidy little self-justification.

Right. Beastfolk get called "disqualified as humans, passed as animals." Changing genders is nothing compared to that.

I wondered briefly if even this rationalization was some kind of awakening-induced mental shift — but this wasn't the time to worry about that.

The real problem wasn't sorting out my identity crisis or holding a funeral for my former self. It was figuring out how to put food on the table tomorrow.

As of yesterday, I'd figured that particular worry was behind me for good. Become an Awakened, get a hunter license, run gates and dungeons, and rake in money that made my old wages look like pocket change. That had been the plan.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a single combat skill. Training might eventually unlock one, but nobody could say when. And going back to day labor wasn't an option either — not because of the physical work. Non-combat Awakened weren't much stronger than ordinary people. Walking around outside in this body? In a refugee camp where neither Awakened nor the authorities ever bothered to show up?

That'd be the day the camp's public welfare got a major upgrade. If this were a game, a little popup would float up: [District 17 Refugee Camp residents' happiness has increased by 5.]

Until I had a way to defend myself, even stepping outside required caution.

"Ah— aah."

In the end, I had exactly one option left: use the skill I'd gotten from awakening.

Alchemy. Actual alchemy. Whether I could turn lead into gold was still an open question, but the important part was that I could do the whole thing alone, indoors.

As long as Awakened keep running gates and dungeons, the demand for potions isn't going anywhere.

Whether my potions would meet that demand was another matter — but I could at least earn enough to eat, right? Hell, maybe demand would explode and I'd get rich.

"Heheh…"

The excitement slipped out of me as a little laugh. No reason to hesitate.

"Potion Crafting."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The moment I activated the skill, something surfaced in my mind — vague enough that I couldn't quite pin it down, the kind of knowledge you'd only really understand by doing it.

A recipe.

Yes. A formula for making a specific potion. The result field just said [???], so I had no idea what I'd end up with — but whatever it was, I couldn't lose.

First thing I needed was greenery. Ordinary plants wouldn't cut it; they had to be steeped in mana. Luckily, those were easier to find than expected. A little dangerous, sure — but available.

I bundled myself up in clothes that covered as much of my body and face as possible, then stepped outside. The apartment complex was pitch dark — not enough power to keep the streetlights running. After making sure the coast was clear, I darted over to a flower bed.

It had probably been well-tended once. Now it was a riot of unidentifiable weeds, plants mutated by mana. The government had warned people not to eat them, and enough people had died trying that nobody paid the beds any attention. Lucky me.

I gathered an armful of the mystery plants and headed back. The next ingredient that surfaced in my mind was purified water — essential for potion-making. That one was harder.

Where am I supposed to find clean water?

People were literally killing each other over drinking water. Clean water was a fantasy. Thankfully, I'd collected some rainwater, so that would have to do. Foreign matter, microbes, dust — I'd just call those a generous helping of character. Hygiene? In this world? Customers knew what they were getting.

Skipping purified water seemed to ding the quality of the result forming in my head, but there was nothing I could do about it. I sorted the plants, crushed them, boiled them, dried them — and poured an entire night into potion-making.

The strange part was the sensation of something draining out of my body as I worked. I recognized it from all the community posts: mana. And every time I used it, exhaustion crashed over me that much faster.

By the time I'd nearly run myself dry, I'd managed to produce a potion.

"Uh. Hmm."

The finished product was… mediocre. No — honestly, it was complete garbage. Vague ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠purpose, trash-tier quality. If you're tired, just sleep. Why would anyone drink this?

Worse still, I had nothing proper to put it in, so I'd poured it into scavenged plastic bottles and empty jars. Even I wouldn't drink this.

But I didn't have a choice. I had to sell it somehow.

Thanks to the thing they called the System, Awakened still enjoyed all kinds of conveniences even with infrastructure half-rebuilt. The community was the most active feature; the trading system came second. Non-face-to-face transactions through the System took a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠huge weight off security and safety concerns.

Private sales are… probably a no-go.

Finding a buyer on the community boards would be faster and more reliable — but who was going to buy something sealed in a plastic bottle and an old jar? I'd get screenshot-shamed into oblivion.

So I went with the auction house instead. Higher chance of sinking without a trace, sure, but better than endlessly reposting in search of a buyer. Buyers could check the condition beforehand, so nobody could come crying later.

What do I even price this at?

There was no material cost to speak of, so covering labor alone would be a win. And in this world, labor itself was nearly worthless, which made the decision even harder. Potions were rare, sure — but who was going to casually buy something with completely unverified effects?

I was still mulling it over when a wave of drowsiness hit me. I'd burned almost all my mana making the potions. Funny, the person who'd just crafted Fatigue Recovery Potions complaining about being tired — but I wasn't rich enough to dip into my own inventory.

Someone'll buy them.

I listed each bottle at roughly the price of a loaf of bread and hit confirm. If nobody bit, I'd just drop the price later.

Auction posted, I collapsed into sleep on the spot — without the faintest idea of the chaos my potions were about to unleash out there in the world.