"Is This Supposed To Be A Girls' Talk?"
Blue Pharmacy.
Nestled discreetly in the seam where Northwest Main Street met West Main Street, within the seventh district, lay the Blue Pharmacy. It was half-eclipsed by the looming shadow of an incongruously leaning building—easy to overlook for the unobservant, and simpler still to bypass for those who preferred to.
Most seasoned adventurers held a certain familiarity with the place. Not a fond acquaintance, but rather the grudging recognition one reserves for a treacherous shortcut—useful to acknowledge, yet perpetually avoided.
The rationale was straightforward.
Men paid exorbitant sums—double, sometimes triple—for potions that, by rights, should have brought tears to the eyes of any genuine alchemist due to their inherent cheapness. The chienthrope presiding over the counter possessed an uncanny nose for desperation, quite literally, and adjusted her prices accordingly.
Women, however, rarely made it far enough to even contemplate payment. The same chienthrope extended a markedly different kind of attention to them, a swift and decisive dismissal: a vault over the counter, the doorway filled by her imposing figure, beast ears flattened, and tail stiffly erect. The unfortunate soul who had inadvertently wandered in would find herself propelled back onto the street before fully grasping the whirlwind of what had transpired.
Lord Miach was, by nature, exceedingly kind. Perhaps, too kind. And Naaza had, at some point, concluded that such boundless kindness ought not to be so readily accessible to the world at large.
Thus, the shop remained a bastion of quietude. Day after day, an emptiness so profound it seemed to have seeped into the very walls, a silence so well-earned it echoed with its own significance.
Few days dared to deviate from this pattern. And when exceptions did arise, they invariably presented themselves when necessity finally outweighed pride—when every other door had been tried, and this solitary one remained.
Today was one such day.
Bathed in the gentle, verdant glow of magic stone lamps, the backroom of the Blue Pharmacy had been transmuted into something almost sacrosanct.
Three exquisite women had joined Naaza Erisuis this day, transforming the cluttered space into a moment suspended in the timeless ether.
Elara, the human herbalist and Level 3 adventurer, exuded an air of refined composure. Her long, pale grey hair caught a subtle greenish luminescence from the light above. For over an hour, her gaze had remained riveted to the thick tome in her lap, her expression a tableau of intense, unwavering focus.
Beside her, the half-elf Eina Tulle wore a countenance of intricate complexity. Dressed in unadorned civilian attire rather than her customary guild uniform, her emerald eyes were steadfastly fixed upon the book before her, never straying even a fraction as she meticulously scoured its pages.
A short distance away, Misha Flott—Eina's colleague and friend—frantically raked her pink hair, her pink eyes narrowed in fierce determination as she squinted, flitting back and forth between scattered parchments strewn across the floor.
Naaza completed the hushed quartet. The chienthrope pharmacist wrote with breathtaking velocity, her quill dancing across the diary with mechanical precision. Her silver prosthetic right arm moved with the seasoned efficiency of a former Level 2 adventurer, while her casual attire featured one long sleeve to discreetly shroud the prosthesis and one short sleeve for comfort. Her tail swayed with a gentle rhythm behind her.
All four sat cross-legged on the floor, ancient tomes and partially unfurled parchments scattered around them, veiled by a delicate film of soft dust that imbued the scene with an antique reverence.
They appeared less like living women caught in an ordinary moment and more akin to exquisite sculptures from a long-vanished golden age—perfectly preserved, as if an ancient, tender illusion had arrested them in time. A living masterpiece. A fragment of legend made manifest.
Then, Misha shattered the spell.
The protracted silence had finally eroded her resolve.
"Haaah! Why am I even here?!"
She surged to her feet abruptly, her voice cleaving the silence in twain and eliciting a scowl from Eina.
Misha threw both hands into the air.
"What? Don't look at me like that. We've been buried in dusty books for hours."
Then, Misha immediately pointed an accusing finger at her.
"And, honestly. You're acting like I'm the problem here. These are just… aghh!"
"Um… Misha?" Eina ventured cautiously. "You're the one who insisted on coming, though."
"Yeah, I did," Misha sulked, her shoulders slumping as she folded her arms. "I thought this would be a mild study session. You know… mostly girls' talk. Just like we used to do back in school."
Naaza's eyes narrowed, her gaze lingering for a moment on Elara. "Well… I don't mind a little girls' talk either."
Elara met her gaze evenly, unflinching. "How come? You rarely—" She caught herself, shaking her head. "Never mind. I'm sure it won't do any good."
Eina released a soft sigh, her left hand cradling her chin. Her emerald eyes still clung to the parchments and books, but her mind had clearly drifted elsewhere.
"Girls' talk… Hah?"
Only after uttering it did Eina realize she had spoken aloud.
Misha's mood pivoted instantly. She dropped down beside Eina, scooting closer than before, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Fufufu… Already daydreaming about your little brother again?"
"It's… It's not like that!" Eina's cheeks flushed a delicate pink.
"Come on, spill it already!" Misha teased.
The color in Eina's face deepened instantaneously. She waved both hands in frantic denial, her voice pitching higher than she intended.
Eina's vocal reaction elicited the same look from both Misha and Naaza—a fleeting surprise swiftly followed by unmistakable mischief.
"I wasn't—I was thinking about work—"
"Of course." Naaza cast a sidelong glance. "Work."
Eina pointed at her. "Don't."
Elara looked up from her notes for the first time. She observed Eina's face with the mild curiosity of one perusing a weather report. "You're quite red."
"I know that—!" Eina pressed both palms to her cheeks.
A second later, she realized all three of them were still staring at her—Misha barely suppressing laughter, Naaza openly amused, and Elara watching with quiet curiosity.
Eina let out a small yelp.
"Stop looking at me like that—"
"Like what?" Elara said, seemingly oblivious to Eina's distress. Probably.
Misha buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Naaza and Misha exchanged glances. One glance sufficed. Both had already chosen their targets.
Both nodded—a silent compact.
Naaza's eyes shifted to Elara, a brief, unhurried appraisal. The kind of look that had already reached a conclusion.
Elara noticed. But offered no comment.
Naaza smiled mischievously. "Let me bring some snacks. We've been working straight for more than three hours. Let's take a short break."
Her tail flicked once behind her before she added casually, "I might add some ale in it, too."
"Is that so," Elara said, flatly. Not a question. Her eyes remained fixed on the text.
A beat of silence.
"You've been reading that same page for twenty minutes," Naaza remarked.
"Mn." Elara calmly turned the next page as if denying the accusation.
Misha glanced between them, unsure if something significant had just transpired.
Meanwhile, Eina's thoughts had drifted entirely elsewhere. Whether it was a deliberate diversion or a question she had been holding onto the entire time, even she no longer seemed fully aware.
"You're trying to test someone's blood for spirit lineage. Isn't that right?"
"Yes," Elara said cautiously.
Naaza fell uncharacteristically silent after the question—a detail Eina failed to register.
Eina pressed on. "This has never been done before. That means it was never needed before."
She clearly sought answers. As a guild employee, her foremost priority was to stay informed on anything warranting attention. Something of this magnitude could never be ignored. So she asked anyway.
"Then why now?"
Naaza and Elara exchanged troubled glances, silently weighing whether Eina should be privy to any of this information.
Misha, who had been the loudest presence in the room all afternoon, now observed in quiet contemplation.
"Sorry. I know I'm being pushy. But this has been bothering me the entire time. Even bits and pieces would help us understand what we're walking into." Eina sounded almost apologetic as she posed the question.
Then, unexpectedly, Misha interjected.
"Well… She's not asking for every secret in the world here. But if this is dangerous enough to make even you two act weird, then maybe we deserve at least a little warning."
Even Naaza and Elara appeared momentarily taken aback by the sudden gravity in Misha's voice.
Elara cleared her throat. She had already decided to withhold the truth from her—most of it, at least. But now, a portion of it had become essential. Even if only a fragment.
"Because—"
The doorbell chimed, abruptly cutting short whatever she was about to articulate.
Silence descended upon the room once more. Different this time.
***