Amy

“You’re late.” There was no accusation in May’s words, no anger - merely a statement of fact. “I brewed three different potions in the time you took to get here. I could have brewed four, but then I wouldn’t have had enough ingredients left over for the mana potion.”

“You mean you didn’t brew it without me?” I asked, mildly surprised. After all that Pauline had told me, I’d thought for sure that it would be too late.

“Of course not,” May replied, looking almost affronted. “We had an agreement. My parents always insisted I take those seriously - failing to do so might affect future business. I wouldn’t risk my access to further ingredients like that.”

“Right…” I murmured. “I suppose that does make sense… I should probably apologize for assuming the worst, in that case…”

“It’s my fault,” Pauline said, blushing faintly. “I’ve heard rumors - though I guess I should have known better to believe them…”

“Rumors?” May asked, frowning.

“Yes. People are claiming that you’ve given bad potions to people who’ve made you wait, or otherwise angered you - ones that have had awful side effects, like making their drinkers throw up or turn pink. Supposedly one person even had to stay in the hospital for a week.”

“As if I would ever make a bad potion,” May scoffed. “I think turning someone pink is a perfectly reasonable punishment for making me wait - and as for the person who went to the hospital, I’ll have you know that was vanity on his part. He asked for a potion that would make his hair regrow, but refused to pay me what it was actually worth and even dared to threaten my family if I didn’t do as he asked. So I made a potion that would make all his hair grow, nonstop, for three days. I’m not sure why it took him an entire week to recover from it, but the potion did exactly what it was meant to.”

“But… I made you wait,” I pointed out, suddenly worried.

“You did,” May replied, nodding. “And I would like your permission to punish you for it.”

“My… permission?” I asked, glancing at Pauline.

“Yes,” May confirmed. “If we are to have a lasting business relationship, then it’s important that we be upfront about things like this. I’m annoyed at you, and want to vent that annoyance while also teaching you a lesson by brewing a punishment into your potion. Is that alright? Or would it cause you to cease our partnership?”

“What happens if she says no?” Pauline asked, before I could.

“Nothing,” May answered. “For now. I would, however, continue to be upset and annoyed with her, which could lead to the deterioration of our relationship down the line. Which would be a shame. I was able to find lots of wonderful ingredients while you all searched for your boar, and I would very much like to do it again sometime. Also, I wouldn’t mind brewing you more mana potions in the future. Though I’d prefer you to arrive at the scheduled time.”

“What sort of punishment did you have in mind?” I asked. “I’d rather not grow hair everywhere.”

“Nothing permanent,” May replied. “Though there might be some hair growth involved. It shouldn’t impact your looks negatively, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s…” I blushed. “What is it then?”

“I’d rather not tell you. That way you won’t know if something goes wrong and the punishment differs from my expectations.”

“I thought you said you’d never get a potion wrong,” Pauline said.

“Yes. That’s why it would be embarrassing if I somehow got it wrong. Besides, it’s possible that one of you might have a way to neutralize the potion if you know its effects before hand.”

“I don’t know about Pauline, but I for one certainly lack the know-how to pull that off.”

“I was told my magic makes me unsuitable for alchemy,” Pauline confessed.

“Your magic?” I asked, looking to her in confusion. “What does your magic have to do with using alchemy?”

“Everything!” May replied, in her place - and quite loudly, too. “Do you know nothing of how alchemy works?”

“Isn’t it just combining magical ingredients in a pot, or some such?” I asked. I’d always thought of it as akin to magical chemistry, where anyone could get the right results so long as they had the right knowledge, equipment, and ingredients.

“…How did you even qualify to enter this school?” May asked. “I know that nobles don’t rely on scholarships, but I did think this academy had some standards. Or is it due to your station? Are you simply so high up the social ladder that they let you in untested?”

“I’m not… things like this didn’t exist where I’m from,” I explained, red infusing my cheeks. “There was something else I thought to be similar, but now it sounds as if that’s not the case.”

“She’s not stupid,” Pauline added. “She’s just ignorant. Since I don’t know much about alchemy either, could we ask you to explain?”

“Is there really a place in this world that doesn’t use alchemy?” May asked, before raising a hand. “Never mind, don’t tell me. It’ll just delay me getting to talk about alchemy. I’ll start with this - to practice alchemy, you need an affinity fit for it. I got lucky - acid is one of the best. Though it does add another step to my brewing that most don’t have to face.”

“An extra step?” I asked her, only to receive a glare in return.

“We will get to that. For now, a practical demonstration of why acid is the best.” Saying so, she reached down for her bag and removed something from it - a fist-sized multi-faceted crystal, with a large jagged crack going through its center. Through it one could see that the thing was actually hollow in the middle, its outer shell being perhaps an inch or two thick.

“The core,” Pauline explained, no doubt seeing the curiosity written across my face.

“The core,” May confirmed. “Question - do either of you know what goes into a mana potion?”

I shook my head.

“I know it requires a core,” Pauline said. “But that’s about it.”

“That is correct,” May said, nodding her head. “Of course, any potion with enough power to make a difference will require one by default, so that’s not saying much - but what’s special about a mana potion is that the core is the only ingredient. Which makes them boring.”

“The only ingredient?” Pauline asked, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t mean to say that I have to eat that thing?” I asked, my eyes widening in horror. “Why do they even call it a potion, at that point!?”

“Yes, but no. It is largely considered to be inedible in its current state. You must process it through alchemy for it to become an ingestible potion. There are theoretically as many ways to this as there are alchemists, as every spell made has the potential to be distinct. That said, most people are boring and do it the way they were taught by their predecessors.”

“And you don’t?” I asked, getting a little worried now.

“I am self-taught,” May replied, proudly. “I can therefore say that I do it my own way. Though I’m afraid it’s not nearly as impressive as it sounds - regardless of the method chosen, it all more or less boils down to the same thing: turning something large and hard into something that can be easily consumed. That means either breaking it down into smaller pieces and mixing it with some form of liquid, or directly transforming it into something more easily eaten. Personally, I can use my acid magic to dissolve things, turning them into an acidic liquid. To that end, I would request that someone bring me a beaker. They can be found in the cupboards, on the right side of the room.”

“I’ll get it!” Pauline volunteered, hurrying to grab one, while I simply stared at May in shock.

“You expect me to drink acid?”

“It will not be acidic by the time I’m done with it,” May said. “I will neutralize it using a base - the extra step I mentioned. Also, I can make it a rather weak acid, so it wouldn’t cause you much harm regardless. I’ll have you know we haven’t even gotten to the punishment stage.”

“Ah… right, that…” I grimaced, wondering what it was exactly that May had in store for me.

“That,” May confirmed, nodding before taking the glassware Pauline had brought. “Also this is a flask, not a beaker. I suppose it’ll work, though.”

“Ah…” Pauline blushed, looking away, and I had to fight the urge to smile. It was only a small mistake, but her reaction to it had been rather cute to be honest.

“Now,” May said, putting the flask down upon the desk and holding the crystal above the flask. “Watch.”

The change in the crystal was immediate. The moment she spoke, it began to visibly soften and dissolve in her hand, morphing into a white liquid that pooled at the bottom of the flask.

“This,” the little alchemist declared, “is a mana potion in its base form. I was planning to get a little creative with the flavoring, but since you were late I’ll be focusing on your punishment instead.”

She reached into a pouch at her waist as she spoke, and pulled out what looked to be a withered flower bud. It was small, about the size of my pinky nail, and pitch black.

“This is a shadow bud. It is known to house shadow magic within it.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, “it houses magic? Does that mean it has a core of some sort?”

“No,” May replied, shaking her head. “Plants do not need cores to store magic. It is not known why - just that different species of magical plants feature different elemental magics. Shadow blossoms, for example, will only sprout within the shadow of something else, and are near invisible for so long as they remain within the shadow they were born to. By itself, it has no special effect when eaten. But we do not generally use plants in alchemy due to their natural abilities.”

“Then why do you?” I asked, curious despite myself.

“Do you know what I must do in order to melt this bud?” May asked, instead of answering. When I shook my head, she focused on the flower bud, causing it to break down into sludge and join with the liquid already in the flask. “In order to melt it, I must first overwhelm the mana already in it with my own. As part of that process, I can imprint my own desires upon it, essentially turning it into something akin to a consumable spell. When ingested as part of a potion, the shadow magic shall enact the instructions I give it, altering you in a way of my choosing. It is, of course, limited by its own nature - the spell must be something that can be accomplished through shadow magic to begin with. That said, it will affect you far more than any simple spell could. Do you know why?”

Again, I shook my head. This time, however, Pauline spoke up.

“It’s because potions bypass magic resistance. Nobody’s ever been able to tell me why - though Professor Devulchas said it must have something to do with the fact that we’re willingly taking it into our bodies.”

May nodded. “Most likely correct. A potion becomes noticeably less potent if forced down someone’s throat. It can still work, if imbued with enough mana, but the effects are far less profound. That said, swapping one potion for another does work quite well, as they are still willingly drinking the final result. Interestingly, a potion slipped into someone’s drink will still work at full efficacy once consumed.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve personally tested this?” I asked, with growing concern.

“Do not worry. The potions I used in my experiments were largely focused on temporary visual effects over lasting changes.”

“Right.” I sighed, eyeing the liquid in the flask, which had at some point turned dark grey. “I suppose we might as well get this over with.”

“Not quite,” May said, reaching into a pouch at her side and pulling out a white tablet. “I told you I needed to neutralize the acid, did I not?”

I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again as she dropped the tablet into the flask. The liquid fizzed violently, liquid surging partway up the bottle before suddenly losing strength and settling back down again.

“Now you can drink it.”