The Apothecary of Athens (4) Our Little Apothecary
"I'm not a doctor."
My mouth moved before my brain could catch up.
Only after seeing Theon's expression petrify did I remember whose hand was currently cupping my chin.
You've lost your mind, Choi Jiwoo.
Medea.
A woman who wouldn't bat an eye at butchering, boiling, or incinerating a human being.
Theon sucked in a sharp breath. Beside me, Lykos tugged franticly at my hem.
Yet the queen merely loosened the pressure of her fingers against my jaw, those midday-sun golden eyes blinking once in mild surprise.
"Then what are you?"
"...An apothecary."
"An apothecary, is it?"
The corners of Medea's lips curved soundlessly upward, and the hand holding my chin slowly drifted down.
"I heard you treated a giant stranger."
"He would have died if left alone."
"What did you apply to his arm?"
"I cleansed it with wine, then smeared honey over it."
"Honey."
Taking my hand, the queen brought it right up to her nose. And then—
?!?!?!
She lightly bit down on the tip of my finger.
As I gasped, parting my lips in sheer shock, she let out a soft chuckle and released my captured hand.
"It truly tastes sweet. With a hint of wine and fresh bread, no less."
"Th-that's..."
"Who taught you to use honey?"
"...My master."
"A wise teacher, indeed."
Medea nodded without pressing further. Just as I swallowed a quiet breath of relief, her slender hand came to rest squarely on the crown of my head.
"Your teacher would surely be proud of you. Our little apothecary."
Once.
And once more.
My hair yielded beneath her delicate fingers, only to spring right back up. The queen lifted her palm, studied the bounce for a moment, and—as if she had just discovered a delightful squishy toy—pressed down on the exact same spot again.
Is this entertaining to you?
Naturally, I lacked the suicidal bravery required to voice that thought aloud. After patting and stroking my head for what felt like an eternity, she rose to her feet with a warm, disarmingly pleasant smile.
"Send this child to the banquet the day after tomorrow."
Theon, who had stepped aside with bowed head, looked up sharply. "Your Majesty, this child has only just begun to learn the trade..."
"I only intend to have her pour wine in the hall. Guests always welcome a fresh face." The queen turned her golden gaze back to me. "You can manage that much, can't you?"
"I can, but..."
I almost asked why on earth it had to be me, but swallowed the question. In my current position, the luxury of choice didn't exist anyway.
"Will you feed me on that day as well?"
Medea's smile broadened with genuine amusement.
"Of course. If you perform well, I shall even gift you a silver cup." Her fingertips brushed my bangs aside, clearing my brow and opening up a bright, unobstructed field of vision. "Make sure your face is properly shown that day. It would be a terrible waste to hide such an adorable face."
Leaving those parting words behind, Medea vanished into the inner room. The moment the wooden door clicked shut, the scullery boys raised their heads one by one.
"You're amazing, noona! The queen picked you herself!" Lykos whispered, stuffing the rest of his bread into his mouth all at once.
"...Yeah."
Furrowing my brows, I stared at the closed door of the inner chamber.
What is she scheming?
The situation was obvious enough. Medea had caught wind of the rumors about a little doctor treating a giant bear of a man in the public square, and she had come here confident that the clever new recruit was that very child.
A cute little girl with fluffy hair. Even with just that description circulating, there's no way she'd mistake anyone else for me.
That left only one lingering question: why me? Because I had treated the Bear's arm? Or simply because she found me cute? Either way, it reeked of trouble.
I have way too little information...
Propping my chin on one hand, I mechanically dipped a piece of bread into the bean porridge. Before long, the woman who had been stirring the cauldron raised her voice, taking charge in place of Theon, who had followed Medea inside.
"All right, breakfast is over! You've eaten, now get back to work!"
"I have to run. Thanks for the bread, noona!"
Lykos and the other youngsters scattered quickly to their assigned chores. As for me...
...
I stood blinking at the sealed inner door.
What should I even be doing?
After a moment's calculation, I grabbed a broom resting in the corner and drifted toward the inner room. Pretending to sweep the already spotless stone floor, I strained my ears until a faint, muffled voice drifted through the wood.
"I shall inspect the aconiton as well."
It was Medea's voice.
The hand sweeping the floor froze instantly.
Aconiton?
Aconiton, aconitine—the lethal alkaloid of monkshood. It forces voltage-gated sodium channels open and keeps them locked in an activated state. Symptoms include perioral numbness, violent vomiting, severe bradycardia, and lethal ventricular arrhythmias.
And worse—
There is no specific antidote.
To be fair, it was hardly unusual for an ancient royal dispensary to stock potent poisons. Rat poison was poison, and the paralytic concoctions used for hunting arrows were poison too. Even if a queen renowned for her botanical lore showed an interest in it, that alone didn't prove treason was underway.
The problem is that the person in question is a certified sociopath queen.
Moments later, the door creaked open and the two emerged. Medea blinked in mild surprise upon finding me right outside the entrance, then let out a soft laugh and rested her palm atop my head once more.
"A diligent worker, I see."
She didn't linger to stroke my hair this time. Without glancing back, she swept out of the royal dispensary. Theon emerged shortly after, cradling a small earthenware vial.
"Tie this cord for me, child. These old eyes of mine can scarcely discern the knot."
It was a vial thoroughly sealed with treated leather stretched tight over the stopper. Being careful not to touch the stopper itself, I looped the cord around the outer wrapping and secured it with two firm, neat knots before offering it back.
"What's inside this bottle?"
The old man inspected the vial in silence for a few seconds before answering in his usual dry, clipped tone.
"A medicinal substance you have no need to know of just yet."
The following morning, the Bear strode into the bakery bearing a basket of fresh figs.
"Is our little apothecary in?"
"Nope, she's not."
"Is that so? Guess I'll throw these out to the street dogs, then."
I set aside the linen cloth I had been folding. Grinning broadly, the Bear dragged a stool over to my side and sat down. The four weathered legs of Melissa's personal stool shrieked in agony under his immense bulk.
"If you break that, Melissa will drive her forehead right through your skull!" the baker's wife hollered from the back room.
The Bear cleared his throat sheepishly and carefully shifted his posture to distribute his weight.
"Let me see the arm first."
As I turned around, the Bear obediently extended his forearm. Unwinding the linen bandage, I saw that the angry crimson inflammation had receded a full finger's width inside the charcoal boundary line.
Good. It's definitely resolving.
"How does it look?"
"The redness has retreated significantly."
"Does that mean I'm all cured?"
"Two more days of observation."
The Bear nodded contentedly and pushed the figs toward me. Only after I gathered them up did his eyes wander to the tabletop.
"Hey, there's a snake here."
"It keeps tagging along with me for some reason."
After a moment of contemplation, the Bear plucked a small fig and set it down in front of the serpent. As if it had been waiting for that exact offering, the snake unhinged its jaw and swallowed the fruit whole in a single gulp.
It eats fruit too?!
It felt bizarrely akin to watching an herbivorous horse casually swallow a baby chick. Chuckling warmly at the sight, the Bear turned his attention back to me.
"So, did you meet the queen?"
"I did."
"How was she? Quite fond of adorable things, isn't she?"
She certainly was. Whether that counted as a blessing remained to be seen.
I stared at the Bear's rugged face. After agonizing briefly over how to address him, I realized I had no better alternative and parted my lips.
"...Big brother."
"Huh?"
The Bear froze in place, utterly stunned, before his entire face lit up like a festival bonfire.
"Yeah! Yeah, what is it?"
"When you're at the palace, don't eat anything given to you, no matter who offers it. It might aggravate your wound."
"Mmh?" The Bear tilted his head in confusion. "Nothing's bothered my stomach so far, though?"
"Food shared collectively with everyone at the tables is fine. But watch out for individual offerings—you know, things like someone claiming 'this is a special tonic that's great for your arm' or something."
The Bear blinked dumbly at me. Only after several seconds did he snap his thick fingers as if enlightenment had struck.
"Ah, so you're telling me to show everything to you before I put it in my mouth, right?" He nodded vigorously, his massive head bobbing up and down. "Makes sense. An apothecary of your caliber naturally wants to inspect all kinds of exotic ingredients."
Is that how your brain rationalized it?
Well, whether by cart or by ship, as long as we reached Seoul, it didn't really matter. I cleansed the wound once more and rebandaged it with fresh cloth. Flexing his elbow a few times, the Bear stood up.
"You're coming to tomorrow's banquet too, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'll be pouring wine."
"Then come find my table once it's over. I'll save you the choicest cuts." He flashed a confident, gleaming grin.
I studied his beaming expression for a second, then narrowed my eyes slightly. "Set it aside from the very beginning. Don't go handing me your half-eaten scraps."
The Bear chuckled sheepishly and nodded in agreement.
On the morning of the banquet, Melissa burst into the shop at the crack of dawn and forcefully planted me in front of a polished bronze mirror.
"Just hold still for a second!"
"I'm going to be late, I tell you."
"You won't be late! You can't waltz into the royal palace looking like a scruffy stray."
Damp fingers parted and smoothed my unruly bangs. Using a slender ribbon she had procured from who-knows-where, Melissa gathered the side strands, tied them, undid them, and tied them again slightly higher up.
"...I'm pretty sure the first attempt looked better."
The final creation was a miniature topknot—an 'apple sprout' hairdo. A single cheerful sprout poked up beside my cloud-like fleece of curls. With the unruly mop lifted away from my eyes, my pale, round face was laid completely bare.
"KYAAAAAAAH! SO CUUUUTE!"
Squealing at the top of her lungs, Melissa glommed onto me from behind in a suffocating embrace. After rubbing her cheek against the crown of my head several times, she seized my shoulders, spun me around, and presented me to the shopkeeper.
"Look at her! Isn't she the most precious thing you've ever seen?!"
"Well, not bad at all," the older woman remarked, though her fond, crinkling eyes betrayed her true thoughts.
Melissa then dusted my cheeks with light powder and finished by dabbing a sheen of fragrant olive oil over my skin.
Please tell me this powder doesn't contain toxic white lead...
As I stood up feeling distinctly greasy and uneasy, Melissa gazed at me with an expression of pure, starstruck awe.
"Unbelievable. What if the Son of Cronus swoops down from the heavens and abducts you?"
"The Son of Cronus?"
"The god of thunder, silly!"
Ah. Zeus.
Come to think of it, this mythic era was plagued by terrifying legends where virtually every fair maiden ended up kidnapped by Zeus in one animal guise or another.
...Surely even Zeus wouldn't sink so low as to lay a finger on a literal child, right?
Swallowing a dry sigh, I got to my feet and offered a polite bow. "I'm heading out now."
"Run along, dear. Have fun, and eat plenty of delicious palace treats!"
"Watch your footing so you don't tumble over on the paving stones."
Nodding, I stepped out of the warm bakery. On the walk toward the acropolis, I made a conscious effort to ignore the dramatic uptick in pedestrians turning their heads to gawk at me.
The royal kitchens were in a state of absolute bedlam from early morning. The thick, mouthwatering aroma of roasting meats saturated the stone corridors. Massive terracotta water jars were hauled to and fro, bronze platters clattered against tables, and whenever an overseer barked a name, two or three exhausted voices answered simultaneously from different corners.
"Stick right to my back, noona."
Lykos darted through the frantic maze with seasoned agility. When we finally arrived at the station dedicated to polishing banqueting goblets, a young maid waiting nearby called out to me immediately.
"Are you the child Her Majesty selected?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The maid stared intently at my face for a long moment, cleared her throat with an embarrassed cough, and thrust a folded square of clean white fabric into my hands.
"Go change into this first."
I looked down at the scrap of linen grandly referred to as clothes. "I don't know how to put this on."
"What?"
The tunic I currently wore was what I had awakened in on the very first day. Besides, classical antiquity was an era devoid of modern undergarments—no panties, no brassieres, just folded tunics and pins.
"What do you mean you don't know how to wear a chiton? Are you some pampered noble's brat?"
"I'm definitely not a noble."
"Then why wouldn't you know how to dress yourself?"
Because I transmigrated from modern South Korea, that's why.
Unable to explain, I simply stared back at her with wide, unblinking eyes. The maid huffed in exasperation, waving a dismissive hand.
"I don't have time for this nonsense, so figure it out. If you're that helpless, have that runt beside you dress you."
"Can you help me?" I asked, turning to Lykos.
Lykos gasped in horror, his face turning beet red as he shook his head furiously. Left with no choice, I gathered the bundle of fabric against my chest and slipped away down a quieter corridor deeper within the kitchen wing.
Maybe I should look for that older girl from yesterday?
Recalling the woman who had been stirring the cauldron, I made my way toward the dispensary. And then—
...Hm?
Down the hallway, I spotted a servant woman hurrying along, clutching a small earthenware vial tightly against her bosom. Around the mouth of that very bottle hung two distinctive, tightly bound knots—the exact ones I had tied with my own hands yesterday.
"Excuse me."
The woman jumped in fright, her footsteps grinding to an abrupt halt. Her eyes went round as she swept an appraising look over me, after which she let out a long, trembling sigh of relief.
"What is it, little one?"
"Where are you taking that bottle?"
"Pardon?"
"That isn't an ingredient meant for a feast."
Hesitating, the woman looked down at the vial in her grasp. She hastily pulled her mantle over it, angling her body away from me.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
"There's no point in hiding it. I'm the one managing that bottle."
Even if that management had lasted all of thirty seconds.
"Y-You manage it?"
Only then did genuine panic ripple across her features. Her pale lips trembled as she parted them.
"You... you're the child Her Majesty handpicked, aren't you?"
"Yes."
I nodded placidly. At the exact same moment, a chilling revelation struck my brain like a lightning bolt.
It really is poison.
The jagged puzzle pieces fell into perfect alignment. A psychopathic sorceress queen who had bewitched an aging monarch to secure her son's throne, and the sudden arrival of the king's long-lost heroic heir from Troezen. My eyes narrowed into cold, clinical slits.
"Hand it over. That vial."
"Wh-what did you say?"
"You retrieved the wrong bottle."
The moment I reached toward her arm, she gasped and took two panicked steps backward, her throat bobbing convulsively.
"Old Master Theon said this was the right one!"
"He told you that himself?"
"Yes! He handed it straight to me before I could even open my mouth!"
The memory of that tightly shut inner door flashed across my mind once more, accompanied by Theon's raspy warning that I had no need to know yet.
"So what?"
"Wh-what do you mean, 'so what'?!"
"The old master made an error. His eyesight is failing him, after all."
As I advanced another step, the woman scrambled two paces back until her spine hit the stone wall. Her pupils darted frantically.
"Wait! This belongs to Her Majesty's—!"
"Give it to me. Now."
Without hesitation, I lunged forward to seize her wrist. The servant gasped, twisting her torso away—and instantly froze completely solid.
"...Y-Your Majesty?"
A faint, breathless squeak escaped the woman's lips. I halted mid-reach, my fingers hovering an inch from her sleeve.
"I was wondering what was taking you so long."
From the shadows at the end of the corridor drifted a voice like warm, honeyed sunlight. Stiffly, like an unoiled automaton, I turned my head.
Our eyes met. Medea wore the exact same radiant, maternal smile as she had two days ago, offering me a graceful, dainty wave of her fingers.
"We meet again. Our little apothecary."