From Priest

The clock turned back slightly, to the city of Priest, about sixty miles from Crescent Academy.

Warren Potion Shop was an ordinary Alchemy supplies store in Priest. Its owner, Warren, had no talent for magic, so after making some money, he opened a shop like this to fulfill his childhood wish.

"What strange thing has Antoine come up with this time? Forget it, it probably isn't worth much anyway."

Warren looked at the neatly arranged black drinks in the crate and muttered to himself. He was an old customer of the Antoine Alchemy Workshop. Even though many new Alchemy workshops had emerged over the past few years, he still continued doing business with Antoine. The reason was probably that Antoine had helped him greatly when he was first starting out.

This time, Antoine had asked him to sell a drink called Cola. Warren agreed without much thought and took twenty bottles. The wholesale price was only two copper coins per bottle, so even if they all went unsold, he would only lose forty copper coins.

The past two days had been rather stuffy. Even the shop was filled with stagnant air. Warren wiped away his sweat and placed the Cola in the refrigerator.

The refrigerator was powered by magic and could maintain a low temperature. Since many potions required specific storage temperatures, Warren had bought one and placed it in the corner of the shop. Through its glass door, potions of all colors could be seen inside. It was quite fashionable.

Opening the Daily Priest delivered by the paperboy that morning, Warren officially began the day's business.

Not long after, the bell by the door rang. Warren put down the newspaper and saw the first customer of the day enter.

It was Baron Good from across the street. He suffered from anorexia and could only consume liquids every day, growing thinner by the day.

"Lord Good, why have you come here yourself?"

Warren knew about Good's illness. The baron had previously sent people here to look for potions that could treat anorexia, but they had basically been ineffective.

"I was taking a walk outside and saw your shop was open, so I came in to sit for a while."

Baron Good wore a double-breasted formal suit. Clothing that had once fit him now hung extremely loose, making it hard to imagine that only a year ago, he had been a tall, robust nobleman renowned far and wide as a gourmet.

According to the doctors, his illness was caused by years of exposure to all kinds of delicacies, which had made him reject food. It was a psychological disorder. To cure it, he would need to find food with a special flavor.

Baron Good did know of some delicacies from other worlds, but as a mere baron, he simply could not afford them. Not to mention that some ingredients could only be exchanged for with mages' academic credits.

"You really should take care of yourself."

Though Warren was not close to Baron Good, they were still neighbors from the same district. Seeing the man's emaciated appearance, he could not help reminding him.

"If I really die from this illness, perhaps that would be a relief."

Baron Good smiled and did not seem to care much. More than a year of suffering had long made him indifferent to everything, and he had begun reflecting on his formerly extravagant life.

At that moment, the doorbell rang again. A travel-worn woman entered, drawing both men's attention.

"Oriana, you seem rather busy lately?"

Warren waved the newspaper in his hand. Daily Priest was a long-established publication, but it had recently been squeezed out by several newer papers, such as Priest Daily and Priest Life. Those new newspapers used sensational headlines to attract readers, even distorting facts in their reporting, and they loved publishing gossip columns with clearly suggestive content.

For the public, such gimmicks had proven highly successful. Daily Priest's market share kept shrinking, and by now, perhaps only old customers like Warren still stuck with it.

"Those sensationalists have no professional ethics at all!"

Oriana was furious. She slammed her fist against the counter, then said,

"Warren, give me two bottles of the usual calming potion."

"Of course."

Warren turned to search the shelves, speaking with some feeling as he did so.

"Oriana, it hasn't been easy for you these past years either. Russell passed away so early, and you raised your daughter alone. Don't work yourself sick."

Picking up two pale blue potions, Warren handed them to Oriana.

"The Calm Potion works well, but long-term use can still lead to dependence. You need to be careful."

"Thanks, Warren. I'll keep that in mind. It's just that there's been too much going on lately. Without this stuff, I can't sleep at night."

Oriana looked somewhat haggard. She picked up the potions and was about to leave when she heard Baron Good tap the refrigerator door with his cane.

"Warren, what is this black potion?"

He was pointing at the Cola Warren had just put inside. Its red-and-black packaging, combined with the black liquid, stood out sharply among the potions.

"That isn't a potion. It's some kind of drink called Cola, a new product from the Alchemy workshop I usually buy from."

Warren explained. On a whim, he walked over, opened the refrigerator, and took out a bottle of Cola.

"It happens to be so stuffy today. Let's try it. It's chilled, so it probably can't taste too bad. My treat."

He had only bought the Cola as a favor in the first place and had not intended to make money from it.

"Cola?"

Repeating the rather strange-sounding name, Oriana looked at the black liquid in the bottle, where a bubble or two occasionally rose to the surface, and did not dare try it.

While they hesitated, Warren had already opened the bottle of Cola. The metal cap was very secure, yet easy to open. From that perspective alone, Warren thought the design was quite good.

He sniffed it and found no particular smell. Then he found three clean cups, poured in the Cola, and pushed them toward the other two.

Baron Good picked up his cup. This unusual drink had stirred a bit of curiosity in him. He had little hope left anyway, so trying something new could hardly hurt.

Oriana had already been feeling hot. Feeling the chill of the cup in her hand, she no longer refused.

"Then let us toast to Daily Priest."

Warren joked. The three clinked glasses, then each drank the liquid in their cups.

Almost at the same time, all three pairs of eyes widened sharply. The scene froze in that instant.

Warren set down his cup in silence. He did not know how to describe what he was feeling, so he looked to Oriana, hoping that this eloquent editor-in-chief might say something. But he soon saw that Oriana was staring blankly at her empty cup, speechless.

In the end, it was Baron Good who broke the silence. He raised his emaciated hand, picked up the metal cap from the table, and slowly read the words written inside it, a double entendre.

"One More Bottle."