The next morning, Billy and I woke up sore and groggy from the chaos of the previous night's "experiments." My muscles ached from all the laughter, and my mouth still felt a bit raw from the endless sour-sweet mixtures. But even with the lingering discomfort, there was a spark of excitement. We were close—so close to figuring out the perfect combination for our drink.
As we walked toward the bakery for our morning shift, Billy groaned, rubbing his stomach. "If you give me one more spoonful of that Zorlanth nightmare, I swear I'll toss you into a barrel of it."
I glanced at Billy and could tell right away he wasn't kidding. Billy shot me a withering look. "My taste buds, they've suffered enough."
"Hey, if this works, you'll be swimming in gold. Think of it as an investment."
Billy grunted but didn't argue. As we reached the bakery, Lena was already setting up the front, her usual smile welcoming us. "Morning, boys! Ready for another round?"
Billy shook his head. "Please no. My taste buds are still recovering."
We set to work immediately after our shift. Lena kindly provided us with the leftover syrup, and Jorin sent along a bottle of the infamous sour wine. The kitchen was alive with energy, and for a while, I felt like I was close. I measured, poured, and tasted different combinations, each one bringing me closer to perfection… or so I thought.
"Ugh, that's not it," I groaned, wiping tears from my eyes after trying yet another batch. My mouth burned, and saliva was practically pouring from my mouth. I lay flat on the ground without moving.
Lena peered into the kitchen and came running with a look of concern on her face. "Is everything alright Elliot?"
Billy sighed, leaning against the door. "He's losing it, Lena. Stop him before he kills himself."
"No. I can do this, I have to." Still lying face down on the ground.
Lena looking at Elliot put her apron back on and got to work, Billy who was looking at everything hesitated but soon Lena and I roped him into being the designated taste tester again. We cornered him with spoons full of our latest mixtures, forcing him to try each one.
"No, no, no!" Billy protested as I held up another spoonful. "Come on, Billy, open wide—here comes the airplane!"
Billy recoiled screaming, "What even is that!?"
Billy surrendered, pinching his nose and biting the spoon. The instant regret was written all over his face. "Nope! Nope! That's worse than before!" He doubled over, practically spitting it out across the room. "It's like getting kicked in the face by a demon!"
Meanwhile, Errol remained blissfully aware of the torture unfolding in the back. He stuck to the shopfront, managing the customers and pretending not to hear anything.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, we all collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. Billy, Lena and I lay in silence, staring at the ceiling, too tired to talk.
Errol finally wandered into the kitchen, probably wondering why the silence. He surveyed the scene—three bodies sprawled out on the floor and a strange, dark green liquid sitting in a bowl on the counter.
"What's all this, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved toward the bowl.
"Don't drink it," I muttered weakly. "It's a failure, once again!"
But Errol didn't seem deterred. He carefully sniffed the contents of the bowl, inspecting it like he was evaluating a fine wine. "Hmm… interesting."
I lifted my head, watching as Errol examined the mixture. "What do you mean, interesting?"
"The concentration's not all wrong," Errol said thoughtfully. "The Zorlanth is too strong, and that's why it's burning your mouth. But what if you cooled it down? Maybe add some ice… and a pinch of salt with some other herbs? It could balance out the flavors."
We all sat up, "Ice?" Billy repeated, still skeptical. "You think that'll fix it?"
Errol nodded. "Worth a shot, isn't it?"
Without wasting any time, we got to work on Errol's suggestion. We added ice, threw in a pinch of salt, and carefully mixed the concoction one last time. We added other herbs to suppress the strong taste and as we poured it into a glass, the liquid started to sizzle, almost like carbonated water. The drink turned a light grey with a hint of green as it bubbled softly in the glass.
We all gulped ready to taste, Billy was the first to grab a glass to taste but before he could drink, I stopped him. "Wait. Errol, You should taste it first. It was your idea."
Errol chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no. Let's all drink it together. We're in this as a team."
The excitement in the room was palpable. We clinked our glasses together and, in one synchronized motion, took a sip.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, all at once shouted, "That's it!"
The moment the drink hit my tongue, the coldness was immediate, sharp and invigorating, like taking a breath of crisp winter air. I could feel the bite of the Zorlanth fruit, but it was tamed now—balanced by the sweetness of the syrup and the chill of the ice. "It's... smooth," I said, almost surprised at how refreshing it was. "Not overpowering anymore, just enough to wake you up without knocking you over."
Errol took another sip, swishing it around in his mouth thoughtfully. "And that pinch of salt," he added, "it cuts through the sweetness, keeps it from being too sugary. Gives it a clean finish." He tapped the glass, the liquid still lightly fizzing inside. "It's got this kind of... warmth to it too, once you get past the cold. Like it clears out all the weariness after a long day's work."
Lena, her eyes wide with excitement, nodded in agreement. "It's light, but with depth. Refreshing but still... hearty, if that makes sense." She smiled, savoring the drink. "It feels like something that could keep you going—cool you down, but not leave you feeling empty afterward."
Billy, finally taking his sip after watching us in awe, smacked his lips. "It's like a... punch in the face but in a good way," he said with a grin. "The kind that wakes you up and slaps the exhaustion right off of you." He wiped his mouth, eyes gleaming. "Who knew you could take something so awful and turn it into... this?" He took another long drink, almost gulping it down. "It's like paradise... but with guts."
We all exchanged looks, grinning, knowing we'd just created something truly unique. The drink wasn't just refreshing—it had life to it. Something about the mix of flavors—the balance of sweet, sour, cold, and salty—felt like it could revive even the most exhausted soul.
"Guys the lemonade creation is finished," I said, raising my glass with a triumphant smile.