Mao Mao Apothecary Diaries の小説・ストーリー

Eventually, I fall asleep in the armchair in Mae’s room, watching over her. I wake up with the sun, immediately kicking myself for forgetting the clothes in the wash. But before I tend to that, I check on Mae. I sigh in relief as I look her over, still sleeping soundly in bed. Her coloring is better, her heart rate is on its way back to a normal rate, and her breathing is stronger. The medicine is working then. Making my way downstairs, I add more soap to the washing machine and restart it, then I heat up some water on the stove and look through Mae’s tea options. I choose a Mora berry tea, knowing how much her wolf will love it.

This behavior of course made the maids and head butler frowned in suspicion but they couldn't say anything because the Wu family didn't say anything. Of course the Wu family didn't say anything. They knew that Ming Yue was busy in Heavenly Space and if they needed to ask her something, they would call or text her if it was important. The Wu family knew that Ming Yue was cultivating to be stronger because of the demon man she met at the mall. "So there are several methods to classify ancient medicinal." Ming Yue spoke while standing next to Xuan Wu. In front of them was a table made by the finest wood that only existed in Heaven Realm, The sacred tree. On that table, many herbs were displayed

He deserves it for not bringing me any breakfast. My stomach growls as I keep exploring my new room. There are books all over the place. I pull out A Healer’s Encyclopedia, A Collection of Diseases and Ailments, and A Compendium of Poisons from the shelves. One dusty book stands out to me. Experiments: Book One is scrawled in nearly unreadable handwriting on the thick spine. I flip it open to a random page. Wolves Healing Times is written in messy letters at the top of the parchment.

There are also vials with a variety of solvents and oils. The equipment and materials here are brand new and sophisticated, only of the highest quality. The smells that fill the air are so delectable that my heart skips a beat. Marco has even provided a few blank journals for me to record different formulas and take notes. It’s not just a hobby room; this is a fully stocked laboratory for me to create perfumes and potions. The little apothecary shop he’s made for me right in his townhouse is a dream come true. This space is perfect for me, cozy and well equipped, so I can comfortably spend hours in here doing what I love. The thoughtfulness behind Marco’s gift fills me with warmth and joy.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the room to offer him his coffee. He was using his laptop while seated on the balcony, as I observed. I approached him in silence and said, "Sir, your coffee." He was staring at the files on his laptop when he abruptly turned to grab the coffee and unintentionally glanced at my face. "You, are you now the new maid that will be bringing in my coffee and food?" He gave me a scolding look. I gave him a wide-eyed stare. I worriedly wondered, "How can I tell this beast of a man that it's me?"

We sat in her apothecary, a room filled with dried herbs that smelled nothing like the sweet rot of the marshes and more like sharp menthol and bitter bark, and she watched me with a stillness that was unnerving while she ground roots into a fine powder. "You should drink your tea, girl, because you’ve been staring at the wall for twenty minutes and your energy is bleeding into the air like a wounded bird," Maren said, not looking up from her mortar and pestle but indicating the steaming mug with a tilt of her chin. "I’m just trying to understand how things went so wrong at the sacred stones, because my mother's journals mention a ritual of containment, not a slaughter," I replied, wrapping

My steps are slow and reverent as I enter, drinking in every detail. A broad wooden table dominates the center, its surface clear except for a leather mat and a marble mortar set to the side. All around it, elegant black shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, each one filled to bursting with neat rows of labeled jars, vials, and apothecary bottles. Dried herbs hang in fragrant bundles from exposed beams. Shimmering apparatuses... still, flasks, retorts, alembics... are arranged meticulously beside tiny glass droppers and rows of tincture bottles.

“There’s not much to talk about. I’m an exile with a death warrant and a mate who’d rather kill me than have me expose the pack secrets.” Cassie’s eyebrows lift. “Is that what you think?” The question sits there, sticky and sharp. I look away, up at the line of drying herbs that bisects the room. There’s more variety here than in most apothecaries: sage, mugwort, skullcap, dried poppies hanging like little brown bells. Bundles of pale birch bark, glass jars packed with yellow roots and bitter leaves, whole shelves dedicated to vials of what I’d guess are poisons if I didn’t know Cassie’s reputation.

More guards were gathered everywhere, all armed their eyes and guns on us, We finally entered the main door and even in this situation, I couldn't help being taken aback by the beautiful house. It was hard to impress me but this right here was some grade A high class I had never seen before. The walls of the house were white with matching tiles, I could see my own reflection everywhere I looked. Two large mirrors were on the wall with a single painting of what looked like a bird, “What do you want?” The man I now assumed was the boss of all the guards asked,

Having the content transferred into the syringe he placed the bottle aside and stroked Zander's skin above his heart. "I was reading it as a story book until I came to the last entry of his diary that he made seven days before his death. It was about Monkshood elixir— A potion of revival that can bring deads to life at consumption. It's described as a powerful elixir that would work on anyone. Even on animals. Only... It's effective when used within twenty-four hours of the being's demise.