The Potion is Finally Complete
Generally speaking, potions—especially combat or recovery ones—are used in emergencies. That means there's hardly ever time to read the label on the bottle properly. In the past, it wasn't uncommon for patients to be given the wrong potion, worsening their condition. To prevent such mishaps, mages mandated that potions of specific types carry distinct colors and scents. Recovery potions were red liquids scented with rosemary; explosive ones were black and reeked of gunpowder. So if you asked people what the most suspicious potion was, nine times out of ten they'd say a colorless, odorless one.
It was only natural, then, that Terria eyed the three vials on the workbench with such suspicion.
"Finally... finally done...!"
I let out a short gasp of triumph. All three vials contained a transparent liquid with no scent whatsoever.
"...You worked hard, Master."
"Of course I did. You have no idea how tough it was to make."
Terria offered the perfunctory words of praise. I was in such high spirits that I unconsciously reached out and stroked her hair. She flinched at my touch but soon looked up at me with a complicated expression before turning her head away. Normally, I'd have teased her about that look, but right now, I had no such inclination. My body thrummed with accomplishment, euphoria, excitement—pure elation.
Three whole years. That's how long I'd spent researching the body swap potion. The last three years of my life as Ariel had revolved entirely around it. If someone asked me to sum up those three years, I'd proudly hand them one of these vials.
"I'll head back first. Clean up the lab."
"Yes, Master."
I carefully stowed the three vials in a preservation-case enchanted for potion storage, then returned to my room. Sinking into the plush armchair almost like I was lying down, I murmured to myself, three... three...
Producing the body swap potion took six months per batch. These three doses had to be used wisely. I pondered their applications slowly and deliberately.
The most important use was for my presentation at the conference. I'd need one vial to demonstrate the research results. The other two were for testing—to confirm the potion worked as intended. And yes, there was a bit of personal indulgence mixed in.
First, I'd slip it to that insolent Red Tower Lord and swap bodies with Terria. Then, with him utterly powerless to resist, I'd toy with him to my heart's content... and swap back right before the conference ended. It'd make for some delightful entertainment.
To pull that off, I needed to get to the conference starting tomorrow as soon as possible. I'd need time to spike his wineglass on the first evening.
As I mentally reviewed the plan, evening rolled around. I tapped the armrest with my fingers—tap, tap—and called for Terria. The lab was a ways off, so I had to shout.
"Terria! You done cleaning?"
She came rushing in. Her lab coat—there was no way I was having her traipse around in a maid outfit—had fresh stains, probably from spilling something again.
"Almost. Ten minutes should do it."
"Once you're done, grab some brandy and snacks and bring them to my room."
I considered chewing her out but let it go. I wasn't that hungry anyway; a drink would do instead of dinner.
"Yes, Master. What kind of snacks?"
"Beef jerky sounds good."
Terria nodded and headed back. Bored and with nothing else to do, I watched her work. She loaded the glassware into the sink, sorted the leftover reagents by type, and dumped them into the waste vat. No hesitation—she glanced at the labels and made snap judgments more deftly than your average academy undergrad. Three years as my assistant had honed her skills.
I'd been sincere when I told Clechia that Terria was competent. Finding an assistant like her wasn't easy. Of course, that was thanks to my training. Scold them every time they screw up, and anyone would shape up. Ever since the Imperial Academy banned corporal punishment, undergrad grades had plummeted—a poorly kept secret.
"Master, I brought what you asked for."
Exactly ten minutes later, Terria returned cradling a basket. It held apple brandy, beef jerky, crackers, and the like. She swiftly set the table. I noticed the brandy bottle was already open. Had I drunk this before? I racked my brain but drew a blank. Not that it mattered.
I eased up from the chair and took a straight glass. Terria tilted the bottle, pouring slowly. Her hand seemed to tremble slightly—probably from hefting the heavy waste vat. I took a sip. The smooth burn down my throat was perfect.
A thought struck me. Tomorrow, Terria would be in the Red Tower Lord's body. What did she think of him?
"You know the Red Tower Lord?"
"Yes. I've seen him a few times."
Terria rarely left the lab, but the Red Tower Lord—Lucas—dropped by occasionally.
"What do you make of him?"
"I'm... not sure..."
She looked puzzled at the sudden question.
"Just say whatever comes to mind."
"...He's a mage you dislike, Master. Bad personality, no real skill..."
Her voice trailed off. She was probably worried I'd nitpick. But I had no intention of doing so. I pressed on.
"What about Clechia?"
"Um, she's beautiful, an excellent mage, and... kind..."
"Pfft, kind? Don't say things you don't mean."
I chuckled briefly. The first parts were fair enough, but "kind"? That was flattery. Terria's pupils wavered in distress. What could she say in this situation?
I took another sip.
"Just give me your honest take. Like, our relationship or whatever."
"W-well... Your fiancée loves you, Master, but you don't seem to feel the same. It looks like you just go along with her..."
"Fair point."
I tapped the glass with my finger—tick, tick. She'd nailed it. I didn't really feel love for Clechia. I liked her well enough, but whether it was romantic? Hard to say. Terria must have picked up on my vibe.
She stood there awkwardly. I was in an unusually good mood today, so I said something I'd never dream of normally.
"Want some jerky?"
"Pardon...?"
Terria blinked her jewel-like cobalt-blue eyes. As a fox beastkin, she loved meat like jerky, but she usually stuck to bland sustenance meals. Even when I gave her meat occasionally, she'd try to hide her joy—but I always saw it. She clearly wanted some now but was holding back after all I'd put her through.
"Go ahead. I'm not planning to mess with you. You know the drill—if I say eat, just eat."
"...Yes, Master. Thank you."
That's how slaves worked. Eat when told, wait when told not to. They had no real free will anyway.
Terria picked up a strip with her slender fingers and brought it to her small mouth. Watching her chew reminded me of when I first brought her here. Like most beastkin, her tail would wag or her ears perk up with emotions—though hidden now by humanization magic. She was probably savoring the salty, savory flavor with her whole body.
"What about Cain?"
I kept interrogating. The alcohol was loosening my tongue. Had Terria and I ever talked this long? We lived in the same building but conversed less than distant relatives.
"Cain... I'm not sure. I've barely met him."
"Yeah, fair enough."
Cain had taught me magic since childhood. Now that I'd surpassed him, he was more colleague than mentor—though "surpassed" was debatable. What I knew for sure: he was the only mage I didn't dismiss. Once, he was who I admired, praising and acknowledging my growth. Now they were all beneath me. I tackled ever harder magic research, and it was natural they'd given up understanding. Sad, really. They had no idea the value of my work, how groundbreaking it was, how impossibly complex. Except for Cain.
One of the drives that keeps people going is praise and recognition. But expectations for me were sky-high; mediocre results got no reaction. They'd probably never grasp even a tenth of my research. Maybe that's why my relationships were in shambles. A touch of chosen-one syndrome, perhaps.
I shook my head to clear it. Not today— not on a day this good.
"Want a drink?"
Fine liquor was meant to be shared. Whether a slave counted as worthy company, who cared?
But Terria didn't seem keen. Her body froze mid-chew, then she spoke in a hurried, trembling voice.
"...I'm fine, Master. I don't really like alcohol."
"Why? You saying you've never had a drop your whole life?"
"...Yes. Never."
"No way. You were seventeen when you became a slave. Surely you could've gotten some."
Her family had ruled the beastkin. Servants or a quick buy—easy enough.
"My parents forbade it... And honestly, I wasn't that interested."
Her gaze flickered as she chose her words. Strong refusal might provoke my sadism into force-feeding her. So she was playing it passive. If that's how she felt, fine. No fun forcing booze anyway.
"Alright, skip it if you don't want."
"Thank you, Master."
I left her to her jerky and savored the sweet, rich aroma sliding down my throat, stinging my esophagus. But... the brandy tasted a bit off. Thinner than usual?
"Kinda watery compared to normal... or am I imagining it?"
"..."
"Nah, forget it. Just feels milder. Maybe I've built tolerance. Should I switch to something stronger?"
Terria's gaze was uneasy, constantly glancing at me. Worse than usual today. Hanging on my every word. Her excessive caution was starting to annoy me. And I wasn't in the mood to torment her anyway.
"Conference starts tomorrow, so hit the sack early. We'll leave quick in the morning, portal to the venue."
"Yes, Master."
"Take the leftover jerky if you want more."
"...Really?"
"What, you think I'm gonna trick you? Eat before I change my mind."
And tomorrow you'll get your real present. I swallowed the last part.
Terria seemed flustered by my unusually kind demeanor. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Moonlight from the window gleamed off it like molten gold. Beautiful, sure—but just that.
The fireplace crackled, filling the room with warmth. A few more sips, and the buzz hit. I didn't usually get tipsy this fast, but... I reclined in the chair.
Terria was still munching jerky. Gazing at her, I pondered my next research topic. Three years done—time for something new. But drunk thoughts weren't productive. Drowsiness crept in. Sleeping here wouldn't be bad. I closed my eyes.
Today felt extra tiring. I waved her off, trying to shoo her out. Cracking my eyes, our gazes met. She stared brazenly. I opened my mouth for a retort, but it wouldn't move. Sleepiness, probably. Through drooping lids, her cobalt-blue eyes gleamed. Her lips curved faintly upward? I drifted off.