When Meteor returned to the villa where she and Drunkard were hiding, it was already three in the morning.
The house was pitch-black, with a faint glow seeping from the door leading to the basement.
Meteor was about to open the basement door when Drunkard's voice came from the sofa in the living room. "Don't open it."
Meteor paused for a moment, then walked to the wall and turned on the living room lights.
"I meant to sit here and wait for you to come back, but I fell asleep without realizing it..." Drunkard slowly sat up from the sofa, shielding his eyes from the light. "Witch was reborn by the Demon King."
"I guessed as much," Meteor said calmly.
Drunkard looked up at her, his helpless expression tinged with bitterness. "Why aren't you surprised at all?"
Meteor spoke evenly. "Making potions requires ingredients. Adding the organs of ferocious beasts can increase attack power, while cowhide, tortoise shells, scales, and horns can increase defense. To brew a potion that increases speed, you need peregrine feathers, antelope hooves, and rabbit feet. Take a guess—what do you need to add to make a luck potion?"
Confusion appeared on Drunkard's face. "...I don't know what material can increase luck."
"There is no such material," Meteor said. "So for a luck potion, the potion maker has to overdraft their own luck."
Before Meteor left, Witch had made several potions at Drunkard's insistence, including a potion that increased Luck Stat.
Luck was something whose value could not be seen most of the time. Witch hid in the basement every day, eating, sleeping, and browsing the Forum. Whether she was lucky or not made little difference to her.
But when the moment of Short-legged Sheep's death arrived, whether she was lucky determined whether Witch lived or