At dinner time, Lynn sat at the dining table, which had been laid out with a full spread of dishes.
Dodo had clearly put a great deal of effort into today's meal.
There were braised pork ribs, steamed sea bass, garlic broccoli, tomato scrambled eggs, a pot of pork rib soup that had simmered for three hours, and Lynn's favorite—sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin.
Every dish was steaming hot and gave off an enticing aroma.
At least, that was how it smelled to Dodo, William, and Ollie.
Sitting opposite Lynn, William picked up a piece of braised pork rib, took a bite, and his eyes immediately lit up.
"Delicious," he said before taking another bite.
Ollie, seated beside Lynn, picked up a mouthful of steamed sea bass with his chopsticks, chewed, and nodded.
Though he did not say anything, the expression on his face said everything.
Dodo stood beside the table, still wearing his apron and holding a spoon. He looked at Lynn expectantly, waiting for his review.
Lynn picked up his chopsticks and reached for the plate of sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin.
He took a piece, placed it in his mouth, and chewed.
Then his expression changed.
It was not an expression of delight.
Nor was it exactly an expression of disgust.
It was something much more complicated, hovering somewhere between wanting to vomit and wanting to cry.
Only during dinner did Lynn finally understand what the system had meant when it said the Potion's side effects were extreme.
No matter what he ate now, everything tasted exactly like canned surströmming mixed with Norwegian lutefisk.
Sweet-and-sour pork?
Sweet?
No.
It was the salty, fishy stench of canned surströmming.
Braised pork ribs?
Fragrant?
No.
It was the pungent reek of lutefisk.
Steamed sea bass?
Fresh?
Absolutely not.
It was the nauseating stench of both flavors combined.
Lynn swallowed the piece of sweet-and-sour pork, put down his chopsticks, picked up his water glass, and took a large gulp.
Fortunately, water had no taste.
That fact made Lynn feel like he wanted to die.
If he had known, he would have waited until after dinner to drink that damn Potion.
His gaze swept across the table and eventually settled on the small dish of chili peppers in front of him.
The peppers had been sliced by Dodo as a garnish. Bright red and piled high, they sat in a small saucer.
Lynn did not usually eat much chili. The main dishes were normally enough, so why bother with peppers?
He picked up a slice, put it in his mouth, and chewed.
Spicy.
He picked up another slice and chewed again.
Still spicy.
He continued eating the peppers one by one until he had finished the entire dish.
Well.
Great.
Faced with a table full of food, he could only pick out the chili peppers to eat.
Watching Lynn consume one pepper after another, Dodo's expression shifted from expectation to confusion, from confusion to bewilderment, and from bewilderment to—
Hurt.
"Master," Dodo said, his voice trembling slightly, "is Dodo's cooking not good?"
"No." Lynn shook his head and picked up another slice of chili. "It's my problem. My sense of taste is malfunctioning. I can't taste anything I eat."
Dodo froze for a moment.
"Then the peppers..."
"I can taste the spiciness of peppers." Lynn stuffed the final piece into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Spiciness is not a flavor. It's a sensation of pain."
Dodo fell silent.
He looked at the chili dish that Lynn had licked clean, then at the table full of food that had barely been touched, and let out a sigh.
"Dodo's sincere heart was fed to a dog," he said.
Lynn: "..."
William set down his chopsticks and adjusted his glasses.
"That's what you get for researching Potions for no reason. Now something has gone wrong."
After a brief pause, he continued, "How long do you estimate the side effect will last?"
"I don't know." Lynn took another sip of water. "It shouldn't last too long."
"Then what are you going to eat for the next few days?"
Lynn thought for a moment.
"Chili peppers."
"Just chili peppers?"
"And water."
William fell silent.
He gave Lynn a look full of sympathy.
"Then you'd better eat more."
William pushed his own dish of chili peppers toward Lynn.
Lynn looked at the peppers, sighed, and picked up another one.
...
Fortunately, the loss of taste did not last too long.
Only a week.
A whole week.
During that week, Lynn ate nothing but chili peppers.
Chili for breakfast.
Chili for lunch.
Chili for dinner.
Sometimes raw peppers, sometimes stir-fried peppers, and sometimes chili sauce.
As long as it was spicy, he could taste it.
Anything that was not spicy, no matter how exquisite the food was, tasted like canned surströmming and lutefisk in his mouth.
William and Ollie left on the third day.
William said that if he did not return soon, his mother would call the police.
Ollie said that although his father looked at him with constant disapproval, he was still his father, and he could not stay away from home for too long.
Lynn saw them to the door, watched the Bentley vanish at the end of the street, and then returned to the house to continue eating chili peppers.
On the fourth day, he began noticing a strange taste in his mouth.
It was not the heat of chili, but an indescribable metallic taste.
He assumed he had simply eaten too many peppers and that his tongue was acting up, so he ignored it.
On the fifth day, the metallic taste vanished, and he began to taste the faintest trace of saltiness.
It was barely there, as though someone had lightly tapped his tongue with salt.
On the sixth day, the saltiness became distinct.
He began tasting salt and sugar again.
He tried a piece of sweet-and-sour pork. The sweetness and sourness had returned.
Though there was still a faint hint of surströmming, it was much better than before.
On the seventh day, everything returned to normal.
After exactly one week, Lynn's sense of taste had fully recovered.
That morning, he sat at the dining table with a bowl of plain porridge and a dish of pickles before him.
Dodo stood nearby, watching nervously as though afraid Lynn would reach for chili peppers again.
Lynn scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it, and put it in his mouth.
The fragrance of rice spread across his tongue.
Then he picked up a piece of pickle and chewed.
The saltiness, crunchiness, and sourness exploded in his mouth, every layer of flavor perfectly distinct.
Lynn put down his spoon and let out a long breath.
"It's fixed," he said.
Dodo's shoulders slumped in relief.
"That's wonderful."
...
After confirming that the Potion's side effects lasted only one week, Lynn, following the principle that short-term pain was better than long-term suffering, resolutely began the fusion process with a second magical creature.
This time, the creature he chose was none other than his own Phoenix, Levi.
With one successful fusion experience under his belt, Lynn was already familiar with the process.
He specifically cleared out a large open space inside his trunk.
The last time he performed the fusion in the Potion workshop, the entire place had been blown into a mess, and all those precious Potions had been destroyed.
He had learned his lesson this time.
He would find an open area, so even if another explosion occurred, there would be nothing nearby to break.
That area was located in the northeast corner of the trunk, an open section made to resemble mountainous terrain.
The ground was hard-packed earth. There were no shelves, cabinets, or other objects nearby that could be shattered.
The only decoration was a flat boulder in the center of the area, one Lynn had specifically created with Transfiguration to serve as an operating table.
If possible, he wanted to obtain Levi's [Eternal Embers].
The ability to resurrect after being killed would surely infuriate anyone who opposed him.
Imagine it.
The Socket Spirit finally manages to kill him, only for Lynn to stand back up before it can even finish laughing.
Then Lord Voldemort kills him again.
And Lynn stands up again.
Over and over.
Again and again.
The Socket Spirit would probably be driven mad with rage.
Lynn stood beside the boulder, holding the bottle of fusion Potion.
He uncorked it and took a sniff.
The smell was exactly the same as last time. It appeared that no matter what blood was added, the Potion's scent remained unchanged.
Lynn pinched his nose, gritted his teeth, and downed the Potion.
Then he braced himself, prepared for the pain of his body being torn apart.
But this time, the pain arrived more slowly than before.
The moment the liquid slid down his throat, his taste buds were assaulted once again.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the unspeakable pain to explode from deep within his body.
It came.
But instead of erupting suddenly like last time, it seeped out bit by bit through the cracks in his bones.
It began at his toes.
Then his calves.
Then his thighs, abdomen, chest, arms, neck, and finally his head.
It felt as though something were slowly growing inside him, spreading from bottom to top and from inside to outside, gradually stretching his skin, muscles, and skeleton.
Then—
The freezing began.
It still started at his heart and spread outward.
The cold crept through his blood vessels like countless ice snakes slithering through his body. Everywhere they passed, everything solidified.
He wanted to move, but he could not.
He wanted to speak, but he could not open his mouth.
He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as though they had been sewn shut.
His body began to freeze.
When the final layer of frost covered the top of his head, Lynn had become an ice sculpture.
He stood motionless, like a meticulously carved statue.
The ice was thick, at least five meters deep.
From the outside, only a blurry human silhouette could be seen. No facial features, clothing, or details were visible.
The workshop fell silent.
Only the occasional faint crack from within the ice could be heard, along with the distant sounds of Dodo working in the kitchen.
Lynn remained frozen in the ice for a long time.
Dodo came by several times.
He stood at the entrance of the workshop, looking at the ice sculpture with a face full of worry.
But he did not approach.
His master had warned him before the fusion process began—no matter what happened, do not touch him.
Twenty-four hours later, a crack appeared on the ice.
It was extremely thin, beginning at the top of Lynn's head and spreading downward.
Then more cracks appeared.
They grew denser and denser.
The top of the head.
The forehead.
The cheeks.
The neck.
The shoulders.
The arms.
The torso.
The legs.
The entire surface of the ice sculpture became covered in cracks, like an enormous spiderweb.
Then the ice shattered.
Lynn opened his eyes.
He moved his fingers.
Then his toes.
Finally, he raised his head and looked toward the workshop entrance.
Dodo stood there, still holding a spoon, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide.
"Master..." Dodo's voice was faint. "You've been standing there for an entire day."
"Really?" Lynn looked down at his hands. "It only felt like a short while to me."
He rolled his shoulders, his bones producing a series of crisp pops.
Then he twisted his neck, which popped as well.
He bent at the waist, stretched his legs, and straightened again, confirming that his body was completely fine.
"Did I succeed?" he muttered.
He focused his attention, trying to trigger a rebirth.
A blast of white, freezing air surged from his palm and shot directly toward the distant mountain wall.
Wherever the freezing air passed, the atmosphere itself seemed to solidify.
The water vapor in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals, shimmering beneath the workshop lights.
The freezing air struck the mountain wall.
Crack, crack, crack—
The surface of the wall was instantly covered by a thick layer of frost.
The frost spread outward from the point of impact, covering a large area in the blink of an eye.
Lynn withdrew his hand, looked at the frozen mountain wall, and fell silent for a moment.
He had wanted [Eternal Embers].
Not [Freezing Frost].
He sighed.
Forget it.
Forget it.
It was better than nothing.
He desperately consoled himself.
He had already hit the jackpot once. Getting a second-tier result this time was perfectly acceptable.
Lynn walked to the kitchen, took a can of Coke from the refrigerator, and held it in his hand.
He focused his attention.
A stream of cold air seeped from his palm and enveloped the can.
A few seconds later, he opened it and took a sip.
Ice-cold.
Just right.
Not too cold, not too warm.
Absolutely perfect.
Lynn nodded in satisfaction.
"Not bad," he said.
---
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