She stopped.

For a second there was only silence.

Then her hand touched the handle.

I heard the faint scrape of metal, and right before it turned, she muttered to herself.

"It seems I forgot something… right, the dinner!"

Her voice sounded annoyed, sharp, like she was scolding herself.

The handle didn't move.

Instead, her steps hurried away from the bathroom, faster this time, dirt kicking under her shoes as she rushed back toward the inn.

The back door creaked open, then slammed shut.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"That was close," I whispered, wiping my palms on my clothes.

I stayed there for a while longer, just to be sure.

Only when the sounds of the inn swallowed everything did I finally relax.

---

Meanwhile, inside the inn, the old owner was moving quickly down the hall.

Her back was slightly bent, but her steps were fast.

She had just remembered the kitchen.

As she neared it, a sharp smell hit her nose.

Smoke.

Her eyes widened.

"No," she said under her breath.

"A fire broke out."

She pushed the kitchen door open hard.

It slammed against the wall.

Heat rushed out, and she saw flames climbing the edge of a counter.

Half of the kitchen was burning.

Pots were tipped over.

The cloth was already black and curling.

"Damn it," she muttered.

She didn't scream.

She didn't panic.

Instead, she twisted her right hand slowly, fingers curling inward.

Her face tightened in focus.

A faint shimmer appeared above her palm.

Drops of water gathered out of thin air, sticking together, growing heavier.

She clenched her teeth.

"Come on."

The ball of water grew to the size of her head.

Her arm trembled slightly.

When she judged it was enough, she thrust her hand forward.

The water shot across the room and crashed into the fire.

Flames hissed loudly.

Steam filled the air.

The burning wood darkened, then went still.

Water splashed everywhere.

The floor soaked instantly.

The fire died down until only smoke remained.

The woman stood there, breathing hard.

Her shoulders dropped.

She rubbed her wrist and sighed.

"It's been a while," she said quietly.

"Already great, I still remember the spell."

She looked down at her palm.

Her fingers were shaking now.

"Master," she said, her voice softer.

"The one who taught me magic and took me under his wing."

She leaned against the counter and stared at nothing.

"I was just a bullied commoner in Straton Academy," she continued.

"Every day was the same."

"Pushed around."

"Mocked."

"Ignored."

She gave a short laugh with no humor.

"And then I met you."

She closed her hand slowly.

"You took me as your disciple."

"Taught me everything you knew."

"You said talent didn't matter as much as effort."

"I believed you."

Her eyes drifted to the wet floor.

"Even this very spell," she said.

"I learned it from you."

"You said water listens if you're patient."

She pulled out a chair and sat down heavily.

"But one time," she went on.

"I screwed up a mission."

"Just once."

Her jaw tightened.

"And you left me."

"Gave me the crystal ball and said it was my last chance to fix everything."

She leaned back and covered her eyes with one hand.

"The task is easy," she said to herself.

"I should just capture them when they're asleep."

"Or put hypnotic on the food."

She lowered her hand and looked around the kitchen again.

Burn marks covered the walls.

Water dripped from the ceiling.

She froze looking at the kitchen state.

"No," she said.

"Forget it."

Her gaze lingered on the half-burned counter.

"I already ruined dinner," she muttered.

"Food is out of the question."

She stood up and pushed the chair back under the table.

"I will find another way," she said.

"Maybe in a drink?"

Her tone shifted.

More decided now.

She left the kitchen, closing the door behind her, and walked down a narrow staircase at the back of the inn.

Each step creaked as she descended into the basement.

The air changed immediately.

It was cool and heavy.

The smell of old liquor and grapes filled her lungs.

Wooden shelves lined the walls, packed with dusty bottles.

She moved with familiarity, scanning the labels.

"Too cheap," she said, skipping one.

"Too strong."

She stopped and picked up a dark bottle.

She weighed it in her hand and nodded.

"This one will do."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial.

The glass shimmered faintly green.

The liquid inside moved on its own, thick and slow.

She held it up to the dim light.

"Just a little," she said.

"No mistakes this time."

She uncorked the vial, then the bottle.

Carefully, she poured the green liquid into the liquor.

It vanished as soon as it touched, leaving no trace.

She sealed the bottle again and shook it many times.

Her arms moved steadily.

When she stopped, she listened, as if expecting something to answer back.

She nodded.

"That will do."

She placed the bottle back on the shelf, wiping her hands on her apron.

As she turned to leave, she paused at the bottom of the stairs.

"Master," she whispered.

"This time, I won't fail."

Then she climbed back upstairs, her face calm again, already wearing the expression of an ordinary innkeeper.

Her hands clenched tightly on the bottle of liquor, "the sooner the better" and she walked back to the kitchen, searching for any remaining cups.

Fortunately, the fire didn't reach the shelf where she kept the cups, and took 8 in total, following exactly the number of the keys she gave.

She placed them all in a tray carefully filling each one to the brim.

Then she took a cup to the side.

Clearly a bigger one and filled it all, "I will keep this one for the Kobold, he is the biggest headache"

Then turned one final time towards the kitchen, sighing, "I should clean the place after finish the task…"

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