The moment she took form, the witch named Medea already had veins bulging on her forehead.
The Medea of orthodox mythology was a monster among monsters, but the Moon version was much gentler.
Cruel, but not bloodthirsty.
She also held an exceptionally favorable impression of quiet, honest men and girls dressed in cute clothes.
If that girl had also been deceived by a bad man, she would be even more willing to offer a helping hand.
Of course.
All of that depended on the person she encountered not being a handsome man, a playboy, a hero favored by the gods, or a god himself.
"Uh... is this our helper?"
Feeling the various emotions radiating from the witch's body.
Elysia froze.
This big sister really seemed to hate Teacher!!!
"Calm down. She only hates me, not you, and certainly not the poor people who need potions to save their lives."
Russell took a step back.
Theoretically, he had no need to do so—he could do everything Medea could.
But he was lazy.
Taking one step back and letting Medea figure out how to cultivate magical potions in the modern age was obviously much easier.
The displeasure on the witch's face deepened.
That feeling of having her fate controlled...
Minus another hundred points in charm.
Still, she descended to the ground, accepted Russell's proposal, and began reading through it.
"Starting with medical hegemony, corrupting the corrupt, then using them as fuel to ignite a new flame?"
She murmured, then frowned.
"Magical potions are indeed useful, but their cultivation costs are astonishingly high."
"In fact, the resources needed to cultivate one potion, if handed to a magus, would be enough to cure three times as many people."
"Besides, I imagine the world you wish to create is not merely one free of illness