Episode 12
Michael laid down all the research he’d collected on mana deficiency in front of Lindsay.
Honestly, for something he’d been gathering for years, the pile wasn’t that big.
But considering it was about such a rare disease, it was actually quite a lot.
His low, steady voice filled the office.
“That’s everything our guild managed to dig up about mana deficiency. The request we got was simple: find a cure. It’s been a long time since we took the job, but we never found a single clue. Then, out of nowhere, these strange potions started showing up in the Deep Market.”
New potions. Surprising effects.
For Michael, who had been crushed by despair over Aria’s inevitable death, they gave him a tiny spark of hope.
Maybe this Witch really did know a cure.
He sent out his informants to investigate her, and the more he learned, the stronger his conviction became—this Witch might be able to save Aria.
“You’re the first person I’ve seen who might actually pull this off. Witch.”
Money was no issue.
He had a title, wealth, and a powerful house—all of it won through blood and desperation.
And he was willing to spend every bit of it for his friend.
“If you can cure the illness, the client is ready to pay you whatever it takes.”
“Hmm…”
Lindsay glanced at the intense, desperate black eyes staring at her, then picked up the research papers.
Of course, she had already made the potion—she’d planned to give it to the heroine eventually.
But she couldn’t just hand it over right away.
She had to at least pretend to study the documents.
…Wait. Why is this here?
Among the records on mana deficiency, Lindsay spotted an old photograph.
Red hair, red eyes, a tiny beauty mark near her lips, catlike features.
She looked closely—no doubt about it.
It was someone she knew.
The woman in the photo was a witch who, before Lindsay met Nero, had comforted and encouraged her.
She had even told her about the mana-enhancing potion.
And she looked exactly the same as she had a hundred years ago.
This wasn’t a coincidence.
Lindsay flipped the photo over and found words written on the back.
“Diana…”
The handwriting was elegant, unfamiliar—but the name confirmed it. It was her.
The always-cheerful Diana from Lindsay’s memories looked completely serious in the photo.
So Diana had worked hard enough to be remembered in human records.
She’d been that desperate to find a way to increase mana.
Lindsay almost laughed at the memory of the bright, optimistic witch.
Michael glanced at the photo in Lindsay’s hands and explained casually:
“She was a famous healer about a hundred years ago. There are records of patients with mana deficiency recovering under her care. They all described drinking a shimmering red potion. Can you recreate that potion from the records? Or maybe you know another way?”
Of course—it was Diana’s mana-enhancing potion.
The potions Lindsay had already made followed the same method Diana had once shown her.
Memories of Diana bubbled up, and Lindsay blurted out a request.
“Can I keep this photo?”
Michael’s face twisted beneath his mask, annoyed by the irrelevant question.
“First, the cure.”
“I can make it.”
“Then take the photo. When will the potion be ready?”
Lindsay tucked the photo into her cloak.
She planned to show it to Diana someday if they met again: Look, your photo is still floating around with the humans.
She smiled, already imagining the fun reunion.
“Anytime.”
Michael’s lips curled into a satisfied smile—until Lindsay added:
“But first, I want to see the patient.”
“Why?”
Smart as always, Michael asked for her reasoning.
Her reply was casual, almost careless.
“To check how many bottles they’ll need. Or just buy ten. Whenever they have an attack, give them one, and if the attacks stop, they’re cured. Even if it takes all ten, I’ll only charge you five million gold total.”
“…”
Michael stayed silent.
But Lindsay knew him.
He wasn’t the type to sit by and watch his precious childhood friend suffer through seizures.
As expected, after a long pause, he finally spoke.
“I’ll consult the client.”
Perfect.
That meant Lindsay would meet the heroine soon.
Satisfied, she rose from the sofa.
Michael handed her a slip of paper.
It was a banknote guaranteed by the Central Bank—already filled in for 100,000 gold, stamped with Raven Daily’s crow seal.
Lindsay eyed the inked crow and quill emblem before slipping the note into her cloak.
So obvious. He wanted to track her.
Try it, if you can, she thought.
“An advance, huh? I’ll use it well. But next time, pay in actual gold.”
“How do we contact you?”
“Oh! Right… no way to reach me, huh. Hold on…”
She froze. Wait. How should I do this?
Up until now, all her sales went through Deep Market brokers, so she never had to think about it.
But now she couldn’t use a broker—too risky for her identity.
She needed a way to talk to him directly, but safely.
Then she remembered: she still had that communication artifact she’d taken from Lionel.
Problem solved.
She could just use the number written on Michael’s card.
Even if they traced it, they’d only find Lionel.
Holding up the business card, she said:
“I’ll call the number on this card tomorrow night. Until then, talk to your client and get back to me.”
With that, she reached for the door handle. As it clicked open, Michael’s low voice came from behind.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Worried she’d just run off with the money, huh?
She nodded.
It was understandable.
Even for someone as rich as him, 100,000 gold wasn’t pocket change.
Enough to sting, at least.
I’d never pay up front, she thought.
She wanted to show this moment to Nero—the smug cat who always called her naïve.
Even a man as sharp as Michael had handed over money without guarantees.
But… was it really without guarantees?
Lindsay paused in thought.
Raven’s guild was famous for being meticulous, like the crows they used as their symbol.
Would Michael really just let her walk away with no backup plan?
She pulled out the banknote and card again, examining them carefully.
Nothing. Just normal paper.
No magic, no hidden tricks.
“Huh… maybe he really doesn’t care. Guess he’s just that rich.”
After all, she remembered back on Earth, some businessmen had blown billions on election campaigns.
Compared to that, for a powerful duke with endless wealth, 100,000 gold was probably nothing.
She gave a sheepish laugh, then set her teleport coordinates.
Her figure vanished into thin air, reappearing in an alley not far from Raven Daily’s building.
The alley was pitch dark, the moon hidden by clouds.
But as soon as Lindsay disappeared, shadows started to gather.
One of the black figures placed a clear orb on the spot where she had stood and muttered an incantation.
The orb floated a handspan above the ground, glowed, then fell.
The clouds parted, moonlight poured into the alley, and a man wearing a crow mask bent down to pick up the orb.
In his hand, the once-clear sphere now glowed a faint green.
