The Double ( or More ?) Life of The Fake Heiress

Chapter 303

Nikolai’s apothecary was not small by any means. Mirabella entered, cast a quick glance around, and without further ado, left Nikolai to his devices, shooing the others out of the room.

Truth be told, Nikolai genuinely wanted to assist Mirabella, but it soon became blatantly clear that there wouldn’t be much for him to do. He watched the young lady grind the ingredients with practiced ease and then carefully place them into the baking oven. Every step was executed with precision. Crafting the medicine was crucial, but the real art was in the precise measure and blend of the ingredients.

It amazed Nikolai that he was witnessing such preparation of ancient remedies in his lifetime, and by someone so young – a girl barely in her twenties. She worked with a mastery that suggested she had done this a thousand times over.

Three hours later, Mirabella carefully retrieved the medicine from the furnace. Twenty pills were produced, not a single one a failure.

The rich aroma of the concoction filled the apothecary as Nikolai snapped out of his daze. His eyes settled on the pills resting on the table. He sauntered over, picked one up, and inspected it. Whether one judged by appearance or scent, there was only one word to describe it: perfect. If this were to be evaluated by the Pharmacists‘ Guild, it would fetch an S+ rating, if not higher.

at Mirabella, who now wore a hint of fatigue. An eighteen–year–old top–tier alchemist – what a concept! If the Guild ever caught wind

Trembling slightly. Nikolai placed the pills into their special bottle, opened his mouth, and then, breaking the silence

a sip of water,

said, “You’re pulling my leg. Nikolai.” Then, as if fearing he might continue in a similar vein,

seemed everyone wanted to be her

than Wyatt and Curtis approached her. “Ms. Mirabella, have the medicines

handed the bottle to Wyatt, “There, that’s all I’ve crafted. It’s

to get one leg over the

pills

any idea that with the same amount of ingredients, a senior alchemist might’ve, at best, produced only five or six