Only I Can Make It
I don't get it...
"Only I can make it...?"
What on earth did that mean?
Seol-i shook her head with a flustered look at my question. It seemed like she wanted to say that wasn't it, but since most of what slipped out unintentionally was the truth, it was only natural that her belated excuses fell on deaf ears.
What could this possibly mean? All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind. Did it mean there were special ingredients only she could use? Or maybe a method no one else could replicate? She was from another world, and even if she looked young, she was still a witch, so that could be possible.
But something felt off. If only she could make it, she would've boasted about it confidently. Even if she was still young and shy around people, she always spoke proudly and with assurance about things she was good at or unique to her. Hadn't Seol-i done the same when talking about those?
Yet here she was, trying to hide it from me. Keeping the fact that she made it alone a secret was just too strange.
"Um... could you maybe tell me why?"
Seol-i fell silent at my question, then shook her head. Was this something she just couldn't share? I'd been trying every day to get closer, but maybe her past traumas were still too deep; I could still feel a distance with her.
She'd lived alone in those mountains for so long. And not just that—she'd been rejected by everyone, lost her parents to people like me. It was natural she wouldn't trust easily. Seeing her still use formal speech with me and stutter was heartbreaking.
Up until that hug where she cried her heart out, I'd thought we'd become family... But maybe we'd only become family on paper. She might not have overcome her trauma with people yet. Even with me.
Either way, I knew time was the answer, so pushing further would be foolish. Right now, I needed to focus on this matter.
I could understand that making a potion with such incredible recovery power—one that fully healed Suyeon, whom even advanced modern tech couldn't save—must be incredibly difficult. I'd braced myself for hard-to-find ingredients too.
But it wasn't just hard to make; it was something only she could make. That didn't make any sense.
Sure, if it involved ingredients or methods unique to her otherworld, I could get that—but then she would've said there were limits to production, not that only she could make it.
Even if otherworld plants or flowers grew wild here, it was hard to believe they were from wherever Seol-i lived.
But no, she was saying flat-out that only she could make it. No matter how I thought about it, I couldn't figure out what she meant by "no one else can make it."
Suddenly, I glanced down at Seol-i. She was clutching the vial anxiously, looking deep in thought.
Was that vial something precious to her? I wanted to ask outright, but she didn't seem inclined to answer. No, she looked like she really didn't want to talk about it.
Then, as if she'd made up her mind, Seol-i looked up at me, avoiding my eyes as she spoke.
"Anyway... even if you research this, you won't be able to make it without me..."
With that, Seol-i turned her head away, as if she had nothing more to say. She clearly didn't want to continue the conversation. At the same time, she looked a bit relieved.
What on earth had happened with this potion to make her act like this? I wanted to press, but forcing it wasn't my style.
"Then... for now..."
"Yeah... it's fine. I don't need it anymore anyway."
Saying that, Seol-i handed me the vial. I'd half-expected it from her relieved expression earlier, but she really seemed to have no attachment left to it.
I took it, still uneasy, and kept watching her, but Seol-i just silently ate her meal.
I looked down at the vial. Sorry, Seol-i... but now that it had come to this, I wanted to uncover the truth. She seemed indifferent, so it should be okay.
Thinking that, I gripped the vial tight.
......
This should do it, right?
Even saying it out loud, I was pretty scared.
I'd revealed I was a witch, so claiming I had to adjust the mana and inscribe special spells wouldn't raise eyebrows—but it would definitely lead to annoying hassles.
At times like this, I should've just tossed the vial and told them to research it themselves. In hindsight, I never should've said "only I can make it" from the start. I don't know why I did.
If I hadn't said that, we could've glossed over it somehow... Well, I did backpedal and say it wasn't like that...
I trusted that Chae-rin-unnie would believe me.
...Actually, I don't trust that at all.
People's slip-ups are usually the truth...
I ate my rice, sneaking glances at unnie's reaction. Luckily, she seemed focused on the fact that she could research it now, concentrating on the vial I'd given her.
Yeah... it'll be fine...
Still, I wished she'd forget what I said earlier. I was scared that later, when research hit a dead end no matter what they tried, she'd remember my words.
Of course, unnie had wanted to take me in even before knowing I was a witch, so she probably wouldn't chase extreme profits or squeeze every penny by researching my potion.
She'd even said any money from selling it would all go to me, so that was solid.
If that recovery potion sold, she'd rake in enough to buy a country—no greed there, and her words proved it.
But... that was only if I cooperated.
I didn't care if they researched it, but I'd only warned that the outcome wouldn't be good. From unnie's perspective, with no strings attached, my lack of cooperation must seem baffling.
But I couldn't help it.
How could they recreate my potion through research alone when only I could use magic?
What I made wasn't ordinary recovery potion—it was a magic potion. That's why only I could make it.
In other words, without someone who could wield magic, it was impossible.
This was based on my knowledge, so it could be wrong, but crafting magic with such instant, high-level effects and precise mana distribution? Only a witch like me could do it.
If this world had machines that could distribute mana, maybe even better than me—but they couldn't cast spells, so useless.
At least if Suyeon properly learned from me, she could make it someday.
The reason I could levitate chopsticks with mana, and why unnie was shocked seeing it, was how hard freely manipulating mana is.
The ingredients for recovery potions are common anyway; doesn't cost much. So no issue there.
What, just sell it and make bank? Unnie's eager to research and sell, so not doing that might seem foolish.
Honestly, I probably am foolish...
Otherwise, I wouldn't have assumed it was another world from the start and holed up in the mountains alone.
Thinking that alone made me sad for no reason.
More than anything, I had no real greed. Having just enough to live comfortably, gaming on my computer—that's the easiest, best life.
Revealing this potion and my magic to the world would bring money, sure, but that's it. I lacked the guts, and the thought never crossed my mind.
Ah... then again, handing it to that uncle earlier but now ignoring others might seem two-faced.
Of course, if it's people right in front of me, their stories—I can listen, and if I can help, I want to.
Anyone would feel like helping if it's within their power, right?
But people beyond a screen I don't even know? That's tough.
I haven't met them—how could I help? Like donating to folks begging on TV.
Not right in front of me, after all.
Anyway... that's all it was.
I didn't want to dwell on it anymore. Time to watch some TV.