Chapter 159: The Things Within

Read​ on Kat​ReadingCafe​

Leon had brewed countless potions before.

He’d drunk just as many, and those he deemed safe enough were tested by the clinic staff before being given to his mother.

None had worked.

‘Promoting new tissue growth… This has a higher risk of causing deformities. The goal should be “reversal.” Or perhaps both at once?’

The documents Ian provided gave him some direction, but it still felt like navigating an endless ocean. The lack of properly treated cases made it all the more difficult.

The agony was immense.

Ten months in the womb, thirty years of growth—such a painstakingly perfected body could be ruined in an instant by human hands.

Restoring it, however, was an entirely different challenge.

That was always the way of things. Creation was arduous, but destruction took only a moment.

‘…No. It’s not hard at all.’

Leon scoured even his dream memories, focusing intently on potion development. Though fragmented and fading upon waking, he clung to them like straws of hope.

In his dreams, he, too, had brewed many potions. For reasons unknown, he’d experimented with a wide variety—whether out of curiosity, a collector’s impulse, or simply because brewing his own was cheaper than buying.

‘Come to think of it, there’s something on the tip of my mind…’

Crimson potions. Azure potions. A suspiciously viscous green liquid that made him question if it was even safe to drink. While the contents were somewhat predictable, one scene lingered in his thoughts.

A liquid clearer than glass. Himself, holding it in awe.

That memory ended there. Though it nagged at him, it was too vague to be useful, so he tucked it away in a corner of his mind.

The days that followed were filled with relentless trial and error.

“You bug-eyed little brat, Leon.”

“B-Bug-eyed?!”

“Listen well. I’ve put a lot of thought into helping your mother.”

“Ah… Yes.”

Once the commotion settled, the four of them huddled together in the hospital room. They had gathered to discuss the treatment potion in the first place. Though there had been a minor incident, they were all adults—capable of seriousness when needed.

Truthfully, Sugar hadn’t given Leon’s mother much consideration. Now that they were friends, she wanted to help those close to her.

And then there was the guilt.

She couldn’t shake the thought that her deviation from the original story had caused a butterfly effect. How much had she altered already?

Riley siding with her.

The cult never claiming Louveci.

Ian leaving the Holy City.

The Shadow Cult and the Cult of Unity joining hands.

A chain of changes, rippling outward.

She knew it wasn’t entirely her fault. The original story was just that—a story. Reality was a living, shifting web of human connections.

But Sugar had always been burdened with a strong sense of responsibility. The same responsibility that kept her from drowning in her own ocean of affection for her partner.

So she pondered all night. She dredged up every scrap of knowledge from both this life and her past one.

And at the end of it, she found one possible answer.

“Ever heard of the ‘Saint’s Water’?”

The replies came instantly.

“Who hasn’t?”

“Of course.”

“It’s famous.”

A well-known tale. The first disciple of the Saint, Rainer, and his pursuit of the perfect elixir.

A potion meant to save his dying master, completed too late. Even so, he continued his research, perfected it, and offered the recipe only to the stars—a tearful legend…

Except no one truly knew if the potion had ever been real, or if it even worked.

In a land deeply rooted in the Saint’s Faith, it was accepted as truth. But without the recipe or ingredients, it remained little more than a fable—a testament to the disciples’ love and skill.

But Sugar was here. A reincarnator with memories of the original story.

She’d twisted the plot so much that her knowledge often proved useless. Still—

“Let’s try making it.”

A bombshell declaration.

Recreate the legend!

“I have a guess about the ingredients.”

Eyes widened in surprise, but no one interrupted with cries of “Liar!” or “Stop joking!” They knew better. Sugar wouldn’t jest about this, not after what she’d recently shown them.

Even after absorbing the Evil God’s power, she remained unharmed. While the Guardian was still recuperating, she was as lively as ever.

The other two (excluding Riley) had also heard snippets of the trials and messages she’d received that day. They knew of the apostle the Evil God had sent—for her alone.

Given her position, even the miraculous seemed plausible.

So they listened in silence as Sugar awkwardly scratched her head.

The Saint’s Water.

A recovery item obtainable in the original story.

A potion capable of curing all “abnormal status effects.”

There was only one way to obtain it: crafting it yourself.

But without the recipe, how?

The game’s “system” had handled that. As the protagonist grew, new crafting options unlocked step by step.

The protagonist grew alongside their staff. By the story’s end, they naturally grasped the recipe for the Saint’s Water—a secret tied to the Saint.

“Three main ingredients. The rest—sub-materials and the brewing process—will need more research.”

In the game, having the materials and pressing a button was enough. But this was reality. The exact method remained unknown.

“I’ll gladly research it. What are the guessed ingredients?”

Seeing their determined eyes, Sugar nodded.

“A Song of Silence. A Fragment of the Stars. And…”

The unfamiliar names left them bewildered. Some sighed, already sensing the difficulty of acquisition.

Reactions varied, but all waited for the final ingredient.

After a pause, Sugar spoke.

“Lastly… powdered unicorn horn.”

“…”

The atmosphere grew strange.

Their expressions were unreadable—faces of “I have so much to say but I’ll hold back.”

First, Leon and Ian.

They glanced between Sugar and Riley.

Then Riley.

He shot Sugar a look and subtly grimaced.

“Uh… Why does it feel like this?”

“Ahem.”

“Ah, sorry…”

“…”

Sugar’s sharp tone snapped them back to attention.

None of these ingredients could be obtained through ordinary means. They’d have to venture into perilous places or negotiate with those who possessed them.

“One question. Do you have any basis for guessing these?”

Ian asked, trying to shift the mood.

“If this is real… and if we can make it, it’ll be monumental. A legendary secret, solved in our lifetime!”

As a descendant of the Saint, Ian’s eyes sparkled with pride.

“I just had a dream.”

Sugar smiled faintly, brushing it off. A dream.

If she considered her past life a dream, it wasn’t entirely a lie.

Ian didn’t press further. She knew when to probe and when to stop.

A mysterious friend, almost fairy like. Gently stroking her head, Sugar closed her eyes, savoring the touch.

Meanwhile, Leon studied her curiously.

“A… dream?”

“Mhm. Yeah.”

“…”

“If you can’t believe it, fine. I know how absurd it sounds.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t believe you—”

“Just in case… ta-da! I brought this.”

She pulled out a lantern.

“Eek! What’s inside?!”

“Eyeballs. From the lake before. The lantern is from my dream. Combined, they ‘show what’s normally unseen.’ So? Convincing enough?”

Leon and Ian gaped. Bringing objects from a dream? Even by their standards, that was shocking. Only Riley remained silent, watching.

“Sugar… what even…”

“This isn’t a fairy tale…”

“With abilities like mine, you’ve got to trust me.”

She needed them to believe.

Drifting aimlessly in an endless sea was worse than having a direction, even if the destination was unknown.

As long as they had a direction they could at least keep rowing.

If the game’s logic held, Leon would eventually unlock the recipe. Giving him the ingredients now might help him grasp it sooner.

And it seemed he’d willingly taken hold of that white staff.

“So… what do you think? That’s all I have for now.”

“…”

Leon stared at her silently. He had to believe.

The moment she listed the ingredients, a light had flashed in his mind.

At the same time, he recalled the image of himself holding a potion clearer than glass. The pull was undeniable.

‘The me in the dream… Could it be…?’

How?

And how did she know?

For now, he set the questions aside.

“…First of all, thank you for caring about my mother.”

“Hmph.”

“And… I also apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to…”

“Tch.”

Sugar scoffed, wrinkling her nose.

“I’ll seriously consider the Saint’s Water. Though gathering the ingredients won’t be easy.”

“Let’s figure it out during the break.”

Ian chimed in, injecting some energy into the conversation. The atmosphere felt livelier now. Relieved, Sugar let out a slow breath.

“Good, good. By the way, Leon—hand me your staff.”

“Huh?”

“Let me take a look while we’re at it.”

A secondary goal for today. While the main focus was the potion, Sugar had also been itching to examine the staff. Its owner usually kept it tucked away, making it hard to see.

Wiggling her fingers, she gestured impatiently until Leon hesitantly handed it over.

“Oh. So this is the…”

She marveled at it, turning it over in her hands. The pale, smooth wood—gifted by the Spirit of the White Tree to the Saint—carried two thousand years of history. It felt supple to the touch.

Sugar gripped it like she was about to cast a spell, even giving it a playful swing.

“Can you show me that golden flash thing?”

“Ah… It hasn’t been working lately.”

“Eh…?”

“I tried alone, but nothing happened. I was planning to ask around in the Holy City if anyone knows why.”

“Should we ask my sister?”

Ian interjected, steering the conversation.

“Maybe it’s a mental block.”

“The situation back then? There were heretics present.”

“Could it respond to emotions?”

As they talked, Sugar absentmindedly fiddled with the staff, waving it around like a child with a stick.

Riley, who had been silently observing the trio, finally frowned.

“Hey.”

“…What.”

His blue eyes locked onto Sugar. Her tone turned prickly—still sore from their earlier spat.

“Stop touching that.”

“Why? Leon said it was fine.”

“He didn’t wash his hands after the bathroom.”

“Ew.”

“That’s not true!”

Leon flailed indignantly—he hadn’t even visited the clinic’s bathroom! Meanwhile, Sugar discreetly set the staff back on the table.

“Come here. Let me clean your hands.”

She blinked, glanced around, then shuffled toward Riley. He pulled out a tissue, wiped her palms, then placed his own hand over hers.

Her small, white hand vanished under his larger one. When he tightened his grip, Sugar flinched.

“…”

She stared wordlessly at their joined hands—her delicate fingers swallowed by his veined, calloused ones. Peeking up, she met Riley’s displeased gaze. Though he wasn’t outright scowling, his darkened eyes betrayed a deep, unspoken irritation.

An unexpected wave of jealousy.

‘Getting jealous over something like this… He’s so childish.’

After days of stewing over that woman, this was almost refreshing. Time to tease him.

“Heh. Riley, are you jealous?”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, smugly awaiting his retort—a sharp comeback, a heated argument.

But no response came.

‘Huh…?’

She studied his face, worried she’d crossed a line—until he finally spoke.

“What if I am?”

“…Eh?”

“You gonna comfort me? Let me hold you quietly?”

Her cheeks flamed as Riley’s half-lidded gaze trailed from her eyes to her lips, down her throat, then lower—slow, sticky, deliberate.

“…!”

She yanked her hand back.

Her face burned, pupils dilated. Clutching her chest, she curled inward like a startled rabbit—not just from shame, but another feeling entirely.

The humiliation of her own desires laid bare.

The low, shameful craving to be marked by him.

And worse—the thrill of his eyes stripping her bare.

Her responsibility—the weight of knowing she must not look at him the way he looked at her—stabbed through her.

“…Ah… Ugh…”

Her lips moved soundlessly. She wanted to hide, to escape that blue gaze.

“N-No… That’s not… I didn’t…”

What was she denying? Mumbling incoherently, Sugar fled the room—again.

Riley watched her go in silence.

“Why do those two act like that? They should just build a house and live alone.”

“Ahh, yeah…”

Leon muttered under his breath, and Ian nodded vacantly.

Then, hesitantly, Ian admitted to herself, ‘I… didn’t like it either.’

When Sugar treated Leon’s staff like her own.

‘Why? Was I afraid she’d break it? Or…?’

An inexplicable discomfort. Avoiding Leon’s eyes, Ian feigned indifference.

Meanwhile, Leon stole a glance at Ian.

A thought had plagued him since the heretic incident—since he’d first wielded the white staff.

Absurd, fantastical. He’d tried to dismiss it.

But today, seeing Ian again, the question resurfaced.

The barrier in his mind when he looked at Ian…

It was gone.

“…”

He stared a moment longer, then quietly turned away.