"See you tomorrow."
"Mhm," Ave mumbled from the front desk, not even lifting her head.
I didn't bother waiting for a proper response. Pushing the door open, I stepped outside, letting the chime of the shop's bell fade behind me.
By the time I made it back to the inn, the sun was already high in the sky. The streets were busier now, and I slowed my pace as I circled around the back and slipped in through the kitchen entrance.
The second I stepped inside, I heard her.
"Kayle!"
Nana was already moving toward me, broom clutched tight against her chest. When she reached me, she smirked and lowered her voice. "You're back. I covered for you like I promised."
I let out a small breath, but hid the tension that had drained from my shoulders. "Thanks. Was it tough?"
"I'm fine, thanks for worrying, though." She beamed, looking genuinely happy at the concern.
I huffed out a quiet chuckle. "Did anyone notice I was gone?"
Nana tilted her head in thought. "Hm… I don't think so. Maybe Boarrat. He didn't see you in the kitchen this morning, but he didn't say anything, so I doubt he cares."
Yeah, that sounds like Boarrat.
Nana grinned before glancing toward the front of the inn. "You should hurry up and get ready. I saved you a plate so make sure and eat before we open."
"Got it."
With that, she rushed off to finish her tasks, while I headed to the back to grab my usual cleaning supplies.
The Midnight Inn opened its doors soon after, and the routine chaos followed.
***
The day blurred by, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. Morning at Ave's, straight into working at the inn—there was barely a second to breathe. If Nana hadn't saved me a plate earlier, I probably wouldn't have eaten at all.
At least things were running smoothly.
…Or so I thought.
I was wiping down an empty table when something made me pause.
The soldiers were back, gathered around their usual spot in the corner. They'd become a regular sight here, loud and rowdy but manageable. The girls knew how to handle them, and the other customers had learned to ignore them.
Among the crude jokes and clanking mugs, I spotted one of them slipping away from the group.
His uniform was cleaner, gear better maintained. A senior officer. He'd been here before, but I never paid much attention to him. Maybe I should've.
Because right now, he was heading upstairs, walking straight past Dale.
My grip on the rag tightened slightly. That meant he wasn't just wandering. Dale wouldn't let someone waltz up there unless they had business with David.
I continued wiping the table, my mind working through the possibilities.
A bribe, maybe?
It wouldn't be unusual for a place in the slums. Most businesses here paid off the authorities—either for protection or to keep them from meddling.
But the Midnight Inn wasn't like those other establishments.
David might have run it into the ground, but the inn still had its own security. With Dale and Bale keeping things in check, there was no real need to pay for outside protection. And while prostitution was frowned upon in the empire, it wasn't exactly illegal.
So then… why did the officer go upstairs?
I exhaled sharply through my nose and shook my head. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything. I had my own problems to deal with. Soon, I'd be out of here, far away from David and his business.
"...."
I glanced up, my gaze sweeping across the room.
The girls were working, moving from table to table with practiced ease, their expressions unreadable.
I clicked my tongue and looked away, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.
Half an hour later, the officer reappeared, descending the stairs like nothing had happened. He rejoined his fellow soldiers, laughing, drinking, and indulging in whatever vices they pleased.
They stayed late into the night, only leaving once they'd had their fill.
***
It was the next morning.
The faint scent of crushed herbs and burning incense lingered in the air as I wiped down the counters. Amidst my suppressed yawns, the shop was fairly quieter today.
Save for the scratch of Ave's pen against parchment as she worked through an order list.
Unlike yesterday, when she'd been half-asleep from a long night of experimenting, today she was focused, hands moving with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times before.
I worked in silence, my motions methodical, but my attention kept drifting toward her in my half asleep state. The way she ground a bundle of dried roots into fine powder with the mortar and pestle—pressing, twisting, and shifting the bowl in slow, controlled movements—made me pause.
I wasn't even fully aware I was staring until she spoke.
"You're watching pretty closely," Ave said, her tone neutral. She didn't look up. "Interested?"
"I guess. Just trying to figure out what you're doing."
"If you're interested you could come closer."
Getting her permission, I slowly edged closer to the side of the desk.
Ave barely paused before she adjusted the mortar in front of her and continued.
"This is scarnel root. It's useful for pain relief, but only when prepared right. If you grind it too roughly, the oils inside the fibers won't release properly, and if you grind it too finely before heating, it loses its potency." She lifted the pestle slightly to show me the mixture. "It needs to be the texture of coarse sand—anything finer, and you're wasting it."
I nodded absently, my gaze momentarily wandering to her stunning side profile.
She scraped the powdered root onto a square of parchment, then reached for a glass jar filled with curled green leaves. These, she crushed lightly between her fingers before adding them into the mixture.
"Verdel leaves," she said, answering my unspoken question. "They're common, but useful. On their own, they don't do much besides help with nausea, but when combined with scarnel, they stabilize the mixture and extend the shelf life."
As she worked, she pulled out a small brass scale and began measuring out portions with quick, practiced movements. She didn't rush, but there was an efficiency in her actions—like muscle memory guiding her through something she'd done countless times before.
I silently admired her refined movements, watching as she carefully poured the powdered mixture into a small ceramic bowl.
"Next step is heat treatment," she said. "Not every ingredient needs it, but scarnel does, otherwise it's almost useless. If you just brew it as tea, you'll get something bitter that barely works. But heat it properly, and it releases its real properties."
She snapped her finger, creating a small spark that ignited the oil burner. The ceramic bowl was placed carefully over the flame, suspended by a thin metal stand.
"The trick is to keep the heat low," she continued. "Too much, and the oils will burn off. Not enough, and you won't activate the compounds."
I watched as she stirred the mixture with the end of a wooden stick, her movements slow and deliberate. The powder darkened slightly, the earthy scent shifting into something sharper.
"See that?" She tilted the bowl slightly, showing how the edges of the mixture were starting to turn a deeper shade of brown. "That's what you want. It means the reaction is happening."
I nodded again, more focused than I expected to be. I hadn't planned on paying much attention, but there was something oddly satisfying about watching the process unfold—seeing raw ingredients transform under careful preparation.
After a minute, she pulled the bowl away from the heat, letting it cool before transferring the mixture into a small glass vial. She sealed it with a cork and gave it a small shake.
"This can be brewed into tea or mixed with honey to make a paste," she explained. "Either way, it'll help with pain, muscle aches, and mild fevers."
She exhaled softly and leaned back, running a hand through her hair. "And that," she said, almost awkwardly, "is how you prepare basic pain relief powder. Probably boring to listen to, but—"
"No," I said before I even thought about it.
She blinked at me.
I scratched the back of my neck. "I mean, it wasn't boring. It was interesting."
She stared for a moment, then gave a small, unreadable smile. "If you say so."
There was something odd about the way she said it, but before I could question it, she turned back to her work, her fingers already reaching for another set of ingredients.
Seeing that she had returned to work, I forcefully suppressed my curiosity and also returned cleaning.
The rest of the day went by, and before I knew it, it was already time to go.
Before I left the shop however, Ave crept up behind me and handed me a small paper bag. Taking a peek inside I realized that it was one of the pain relief powder she had made early today.
I looked up to Ave, confusion evident on my face.
"Take it back for Lena. It should help speed up her recovery."
"...Why?" I questioned her good will.
"Hehe," Ave chuckled lightly as she scratched her cheek, "Its nothing much, its just been a while since I got the chance to talk with someone about alchemy. Think of it as a gift for listening to my ramble."
"Alright..." In the end I accepted her gift. If it meant Lena could recover faster, there was no reason to refuse.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it." Ave said lightly as she waved me off.
Nodding back, I took the bag and left the shop.