The Heroine Must Die

“And?”

“She wanted me to sell it to her at a ‘friendly price.’ Claimed she needed it to save someone.”

Tarot scoffed. “Do I look like I’m short on spirit stones? I told you before—when you encounter something truly good, you grab it. Friendship be damned.”

Lauren stared at him. “So… what did you do?”

“I ate it.”

“…You what?”

“I ate it,” he repeated calmly. “Right in front of her.”

Lauren went silent.

Tarot continued, “She lost her temper. Summoned people to capture me. Tried to drain my blood and extract my spiritual root to refine the fruit’s medicinal properties.”

He gave a faint smile. “And then you arrived.”

Lauren: “…”

So that was how a two- or three-year “friendship” collapsed. Not because of romance. Not because of betrayal. Because he’d eaten a priceless treasure fruit right in front of her face.

In her territory. Probably smacking his lips while doing it.

Lauren rubbed her forehead. No wonder the woman had tried to kill him.

Honestly? He kind of deserved the beating.

Lauren had been ready with a sarcastic remark. But when she saw Tarot’s lowered gaze and the faint sorrow shadowing his face, the words died in her throat.

This wasn’t as simple as he was pretending. She changed the subject immediately.

“Alright, forget that. Let’s talk about your medicinal bath. I can brew the medicine for you, but… you can’t even stand. How are you planning to bathe? I’m a girl. It’s not exactly appropriate for me to help.”

Tarot shot her a look. “I don’t need you to serve me. I have an apprentice.”

Lauren: “…” You’ve never taken care of Wayne once in your life, and now you’re relying on him?

Brewing the medicine turned out to be far more difficult than she expected.

Lauren used her Strange Fire to heat the cauldron. At first, it was a disaster.

One moment the decoction froze into slush. The next, it boiled violently and exploded the furnace lid straight into the ceiling.

She destroyed several stoves before she finally began to understand. The Red Lotus flame was too fierce—if she lost control even slightly, everything blew apart.

But when she balanced it with the Ice Lotus flame, the temperature stabilized. Perfectly controlled. Exactly where she wanted it.

Alchemy wasn’t just about time. Time was easy. Temperature was hell.

That razor-thin line between too cold and too hot required constant adjustment, relentless practice.

After several ruined furnaces and more than a few curses, Lauren finally succeeded. She poured the steaming medicinal brew into a large wooden tub. Then she called out:

“Wayne. Briar. Get over here.”

Both of them appeared immediately.

“Wayne, you and Briar help Tarot into the tub. He needs to soak for two full hours before coming out. Got it?”

“Yes, Miss Lauren,” Wayne answered obediently.

“Taleman,” she added, handing over a small flame seed, “keep the water warm if it cools down.”

“Yes.”

Satisfied, Lauren turned to leave.

“Hey—wait.”

She stopped at the doorway and turned back. “What now, Senior Brother? Need anything else?”

Tarot glanced at Briar and frowned. “That’s a little girl. Is it appropriate to have her here?”

Lauren couldn’t decide whether to laugh or hit him. “She’s not a little girl. Don’t worry.”

“What do you mean not a little girl? Then why is she wearing a floral dress?”

Lauren narrowed her eyes. “She’s really not. I promise. Now hurry up and soak before the water gets cold. I have things to do.”

And she left before he could argue further.

Wayne stepped forward. “Master, I’ll help you undress.”

“Wait.”

Tarot beckoned Briar over with a crooked finger. “Come here.”

Briar walked forward nervously. “Master.”

Tarot blinked. “Which one of us is your master?”

“…You are.”

He squinted. “You’re really not a little girl?”

Briar shook his head.

“I don’t believe you,” Tarot said lazily. “Unless you lift your skirt and prove it.”

He had meant it as a joke. Briar looked about five or six years old. If Lauren said Briar wasn’t a girl, then fine—he assumed it was a boy disguised strangely. He was just teasing.

Wayne nearly choked. “Master, you can’t say that!”

But Briar didn’t understand embarrassment the way humans did. It obediently lifted its skirt.

Tarot’s eyes widened. “You actually— Wait. You’re not human?”

Under the floral skirt wasn’t flesh at all. It was wood. A smooth, reddish wooden trunk—like a polished tree stump.

Wayne let out a breath of relief and shot Tarot an accusatory glare. Master’s the pervert here.

Briar’s small feet shifted nervously. He looked afraid—afraid of being rejected.

“I’m… a flower fairy,” he said quietly.

Wayne gently lowered the skirt back into place and patted Briar’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

Briar relaxed a little. He had originally transformed himself to be about the same height as Wayne. But in the past few years, Wayne had grown taller, while Briar remained the same—now more than a head shorter.

“Wayne,” Briar whispered, “I can transform human skin too.”

Wayne nodded seriously. “That’s good. But you don’t need to look human.”

Briar blinked. No one had ever said that before.

Together, master and apprentice helped Tarot into the wooden tub. Steam rose around him as medicinal energy seeped into his body.

Wayne busied himself carefully testing the temperature, remembering every instruction Lauren had given. If the water cooled, he reheated it immediately.

Tarot, despite soaking half-dead in medicinal broth, didn’t forget to lecture. He began questioning Wayne about cultivation.

As they talked, the room took on the atmosphere of a lesson rather than a recovery session.

Not long after, the water cooled slightly. Following instructions, Wayne reignited the flame beneath the tub.

At that moment, Briar crept closer shyly. “Wayne.” It lightly tapped Wayne’s shoulder.

“What is it? Stand back a little. Don’t burn yourself.”

“Oh.” Briar stepped back obediently. Then stretched out his wooden arm— And tapped Wayne’s shoulder again.

“Wayne.”

Wayne was already struggling to control the flame talisman. Briar kept poking him, and the fire was starting to fluctuate.

Annoyed, he turned around. “Briar, what is it now?”

Briar shifted shyly from foot to foot. “Wayne… I have skin now. Look.”

Before Wayne could react, Briar grabbed the hem of the floral dress and yanked it open. And then—

Wayne gasped and fell flat on his backside.

The flame talisman slipped from his control. Fire roared up instantly, surging around the wooden tub.

“Ow! That’s fucking hot!” Tarot shot straight up out of the medicinal bath—only to run out of strength mid-motion and slump back down with a splash.

Then he turned his head. And froze.

Standing there was the little flower fairy. Face still that innocent six-year-old face. But from the neck down—

Muscles. Skin. Structure.

Every detail. A perfect, miniature replica of Tarot’s own body.

“AHHH—!” Tarot screamed.

Wayne scrambled up, yanked off his outer robe, and wrapped Briar in it from head to toe.

“Briar! Who told you to transform like that?!”

Briar blinked, confused. “I copied Master.”

Wayne felt like his soul had left his body. The face of a child. The body of his master. This was a disaster.

“Master,” Wayne said accusingly, “this is your fault.”

Tarot looked like he wanted to die. “How the hell was I supposed to know where you found such a little lunatic?” he snapped. “You’ve scared me so badly I might develop inner demons during my next breakthrough!”

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