Knock.
Eiron used his hand first, then the heel of his foot, then his knife.
Three types of knocking, and not one of them worked.
The door didn't move.
No creak.
No footsteps.
But…
There was a sound.
Whispers behind the ancient wood, soft, broken, like a woman whispering to a cracked mirror.
Eiron tilted his head, placed his ear on the door, and took a deep breath.
"You're breathing… talking… and maybe cursing or performing a magic ritual over a rat's skull."
He sighed.
Then… adopted his next genius idea:
To officially become a pervert.
He cleared his throat, stepped closer with moist lips, and whispered in a cheap velvety tone:
"O lady of the stone house… O priestess of oils and queen of herbs, I have in my pocket beating hearts, and in my pants… a plant that needs immediate analysis."
Silence.
He closed his eyes, then continued, his voice softer… and filthier:
"Open the door, let me in… I promise I won't touch anything without your permission… unless, of course, you like surprises."
He laughed, that low laugh that sounded like the cough of a drunken man.
Then he said:
"I'm tired, wounded, and armed with a B-rank rabbit claw big enough to make any old woman who knows pain drool."
He waited.
Seconds.
Nothing.
No rustling, no reply.
"Either she's dead, or I've just made my way onto every alchemist's blacklist in the kingdom."
Another silence.
Then he decided.
"Damn it… if the door won't open, then you go in through the window, right?"
He turned.
The grass beneath his feet made a soft crunch.
The side wall of the house was covered with stupid plants climbing the stone as if they wanted to screw it.
Then…
A window.
Partially open.
Small, but enough.
He approached, slowly, raised his head, looked.
Then froze.
Inside, just two steps from the window, stood a woman with white hair tied back lazily, wearing a dark robe open from the chest to mid-ribcage, revealing pale skin like milk that died in an old bottle.
A thin body… tight… but still holding the curve of a woman who had known pleasure, pain, and magical mixtures poured on lovers' corpses.
And beside her…
A young man.
Short hair, smaller body, maybe even smaller than Eiron himself, standing in front of her like a child awaiting punishment… or something worse.
Eiron heard nothing.
But his eyes widened.
His body — without thinking — dropped, and hid.
Instinct.
Not thought.
Only the lightness of an animal raised on kicking and waiting.
Eiron knelt behind the stone wall, hiding like an amateur thief… or a lover obsessed with other people's scandals.
The window was open just enough.
And he was close enough to hear what he shouldn't.
The boy's voice sounded choked, like a dagger stuck in his throat:
"You told me he would die."
The alchemist replied in a cold, stiff voice, dripping from her mouth like drops of mercury from a wound:
"He was supposed to. There was no third outcome. The demonic snake's venom alone is fatal… and if that didn't work, the fourth-type flower would've ended him in minutes."
Eiron slowly raised an eyebrow.
"Snake? Flower?"
"This sounds disturbingly familiar…"
The woman continued:
"His survival… is unnatural. Someone intervened."
The boy growled:
"He didn't die, that's all."
"Then the mistake isn't mine."
A heavy silence.
Then the boy said:
"If you don't find a way to finish what we started… consider our deal canceled."
The door slammed!
Violently, as if the wall itself shook from the man's anger.
Eiron remained on his knees.
His eyes widened. His mouth opened. His heart froze.
"Snake bite… toxic flower… that's exactly what Garun told me."
"This can't be a coincidence."
"They're talking about his unexpected survival… about a failed plan… about an agreement between them… and I'm the one who saved him!"
Then he heard the last words echo inside his head over and over:
"If you don't get rid of Garun… the deal is off."
Garun.
His brother.
That boy… is Garun's brother.
"Damn… the world is small, full of traitors and idiots."
He whispered as if betrayal were a wild weed growing under every doorstep.
But suddenly—
He felt fingers grip his hair from behind, grabbing it like a piece of bread grown mold.
A sarcastic, feminine voice, cold like gum under a shoe:
"You can come out now, you idiot."
He slowly lifted his head… to find the alchemist staring at him from the window, her head tilted like a cat thinking of swallowing a bird.
"You breathe like a slaughtered donkey and think you're invisible?"
Eiron stood… fixing himself like a man who just came out of a national collapse.
He smiled.
A shameless, ridiculous smile, completely unapologetic.
"I was testing the building's sound insulation. Field research in deteriorating architecture."
Then he cleared his throat and added:
"And to be honest… part of me thought you two were performing some weird sexual ritual, so I wanted to intervene… scientifically, I swear."
The alchemist smiled with devilish calm.
"Come in. Before I test one of my recipes on you."
Eiron walked in slowly, mumbling:
"Why are all the strong women in this world either murderous witches… or won't open the door on the first knock?"
Eiron entered the alchemist's house like a man entering a tigress's lair… with a smile, and a clear escape plan in every muscle of his body.
The house was warm, oddly shaped, filled with the scents of crushed herbs and things one shouldn't ask about. Shelves full of bottles — some boiling, some moving on their own, and some… whispering.
The alchemist sat on a round cushion and gestured for him to sit opposite her.
"Sit. And drink before you die of poor manners."
She handed him a strained tea cup, light steam rising with a strange smell… like mint after spending a passionate night with vinegar and poison.
Eiron smiled… and gently held the cup.
But he didn't drink.
At all.
"Drinking from the hand of a witch who tried to kill Garun? Smart idea… if I hated my liver."
He raised the cup slowly, pretended to sniff, pretended to enjoy, but his lips never touched a drop.
They sat in strange silence.
And what bothered him more...
Was that she never opened her mouth.
She didn't ask about his spying. Didn't accuse him. Didn't attack him. She just sat, sipping her tea calmly like the meeting was completely normal.
And that… really threw him off.
Really.
"You're… very calm for someone caught conspiring with a guy to kill someone I've known for two days."
She didn't reply.
Just smiled.
His eyes drifted automatically.
His gaze moved slowly, from her lips… to her neck… then that opening in the robe, where curves flowed with deliberate elegance, not exaggerated, but deadly.
Then…
To her waist.
Then…
To hips that looked like something to be served on a hot plate, with sauce and bread.
"Damn…" he muttered in his mind, "They call her old? What prison were they in?"
The alchemist, without even looking at him, said calmly:
"You'll get neck cramps if you keep looking like that."
Eiron didn't flinch.
He smiled instead, and said shamelessly:
"I'm just… trying to understand. They told me the alchemist here was old… hunched, face disfigured, talks to rats. But in front of me now…"
He raised an eyebrow:
"…is a woman in her twenties, with soft skin, edible hips, and breasts you could use as a death pillow."
She looked at him calmly.
Then said:
"I'm not an alchemist for nothing."
Then took another sip of tea.
And smiled.
But that smile wasn't innocent. It was as if she knew exactly what was in his head… and maybe was turned on by it.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze slid to his untouched cup, then returned to meet his directly, eyes digging beneath his smile.
Eiron, despite his usual shamelessness, felt something shift inside him.
"Am I… am I the one being hunted now?"
The alchemist sipped the last drop from her cup, then breathed deeply, like someone finishing a bad deal.
She murmured as she placed the cup aside:
"I can't kill you that easily."
A quick glance toward the window, then she continued coldly:
"Garun received you in my house… under his name. That makes you a personal guest."
Then she blinked slowly, her tone dropped:
"And… there's another reason."
Eiron leaned forward, eyes half-lidded with slyness, like someone just sniffed sexual secrets in the walls.
"Another reason?"
"Yes."
"You're very sure you're safe?"
She gave him a side glance, then said clearly:
"I know that filthy mouth of yours won't tell anyone."
He raised an eyebrow, a slimy smile forming on his lips:
"Why? Did you leave a curse in the tea? Did a mushroom grow inside me and I don't know it?"
She answered, tilting her head:
"No… I'm just very good at reading people."
Then she looked directly at him, her eyes like they were peeling his skin.
"You're no priest, as you claim, oh… cleric. Your eyes reveal more than your mouth. No conscience, no loyalty, no honesty."
Then she smiled sideways, and added:
"But I'll give you something to shut you up."
Then...
She approached.
Calmly, confidently, with a step that echoed only the beats of stray hearts.
She stood before him, then...
Extended her hand.
Touched his cock over his clothes.
It wasn't a gentle touch.
Nor hesitant.
It was firm… mocking… like ancient magic that forgot how to be innocent.
Then she looked into his eyes, slowly, and said:
"You're not a traitor… just very pathetic. And that's why I'm not worried."
Eiron stayed still for a moment.
Then said, with half-lidded eyes:
"Is… is this what they call priest bribery? Because… I'm about to grant you my full blessing."