Chapter 34: The Potion of Hallucinations

Alice’s hand glided over the various auxiliary ingredients laid out before her.

For a moment, she found herself indecisive.

Auxiliary ingredients for potions were typically mundane flora, fauna, or mineral components.

Their primary function was to neutralize the toxicity of magical beast materials as much as possible, thereby reducing their corrosive effect on the human body.

Direct contact with Ghost-Faced Butterfly scales, even in minute quantities, would plunge one into deep hallucinations.

Victims would then succumb to death from extreme euphoria amidst their madness.

A witch’s advancement potion required mixing magical beast materials with the witch’s own blood.

Such a potion would only confer an advancement effect upon that specific witch; for anyone else, it would merely be a potent hallucinogenic poison.

Yet, this unique potion formula was also singularly demanding.

Only specific auxiliary ingredients could neutralize its inherent toxicity; selecting the wrong one would lead to a life-threatening poisoning.

Considering the potential consequences, Alice grew cautious.

She focused intently, attempting to perceive the predictive effects of each ingredient.

However, she quickly hit a wall.

Just like in her past practice sessions, the effects of every ingredient manifested within her, but that was all; she simply couldn’t distinguish which ones were ‘special’.

“You must perceive as if you will inevitably drink the potion in the end,” Queen Isola reminded her.

“What you need now isn’t to foresee the ingredients’ effects, but to predict good or ill fortune. Only if you are determined to drink the potion will the wrong ingredients foretell death. Eliminate those, and only the correct ingredients will remain. If you lack the resolve for advancement, and no crisis exists in your future, the premonition won’t activate.”

Alice realized the truth.

Only by embracing the resolve to take a risk would her premonition help her eliminate the options that could poison her to death.

Since she had already decided to risk advancement, retreating now would be meaningless.

She subtly adjusted her mindset and began her selection once more; this time, she finally felt a glimmer of insight.

In that instant, the sixteen ingredients seemed to shift colors in her eyes.

Only three of them glowed with a vibrant hue, while the rest carried a somber aura of death.

The sensation was fleeting, leaving her no chance to reconfirm.

But she had already committed those three ingredients to memory: a sheep’s eyeball, a dried monkey’s paw, and belladonna.

“…”

Alice stood silently in place.

Not a single one of these ingredients could be considered conventional.

While belladonna appeared the most normal, it was also the only one with paralyzing potent venom, likely intended to counteract the Ghost-Faced Butterfly scales’ toxicity with its own poison.

The only silver lining was that these weren’t the most repulsive-looking among the sixteen ingredients.

“The ingredients for a witch’s potion can sometimes be a bit… unsettling. Bear with it,” the Duchess said, sensing Alice’s thoughts.

“I know,” Alice sighed helplessly, picking out the necessary materials.

“A small spoonful of Ghost-Faced Butterfly scales is enough. For the other ingredients, you can refer to the notes for the correct proportions,” the Duchess advised.

Alice opened the notebook and began to carefully process the ingredients according to its instructions, extracting them one by one, then mixing and heating them.

Several minutes later, she removed the small pot from the kerosene stove, cooled it in water, and then poured the contents into a bowl.

The mixed liquid in the bowl was an unpleasant yellowish-brown, with a hollow sheep’s eyeball and dried, mummified monkey knuckles floating within it.

“Even if this is a genuine witch’s potion…” Alice surveyed the liquid with a ashen face, “…does it really need to be *this* true to the stories?”

“Appearance isn’t important; the taste is,” the Duchess cajoled. “Just take a sip. Who knows, it might be delicious?”

“You standing all the way over there isn’t very convincing, you know?” Alice turned her head, looking at Queen Isola and the Duchess, who had retreated to the doorway.

The potion emitted a rich, peculiar odor that filled the entire room. Since the room had no windows other than a skylight, the two could only gasp for fresh air filtering through the crack in the door.

Alice turned back, picked up the silver needle from the table, pricked her hand, and let a drop of blood fall into the potion.

The potion in the bowl suddenly boiled violently, then turned purple.

“It seems… even stranger now.”

Alice sighed at the bowl before her, then bravely picked it up, steeled herself, held her breath, and gulped down a mouthful.

Then her eyes widened.

“Oh, it’s actually not bad,” she murmured, looking incredulously at the purple liquid in the pot.

The potion, upon entering her mouth, presented a complex, sweet flavor.

Alice vaguely tasted cherry and cake, along with what seemed to be pineapple, roasted turkey, milk candy, and cream bread.

Strangely enough, after adding her blood, she felt the potion’s aroma also transform, becoming extraordinarily fragrant and sweet.

“Please, hurry and finish it,” the Duchess urged, pinching her nose. “The Ghost-Faced Butterfly scales’ toxicity takes effect instantly. You only think it tastes good because your senses are already becoming muddled.”

To them, the potion still emitted an unbearable, strange odor.

“So that’s it.”

Even if it was just an illusion, with the psychological burden of its taste gone, Alice picked up the bowl and drank the potion in one go.

Halfway through, she felt her head begin to spin.

The Ghost-Faced Butterfly scales were indeed an instant-acting poison, taking effect faster than strong liquor.

By the time she set down the empty bowl, the surrounding scenery had begun to distort, becoming bizarre and fantastical.

Dizzy as if drunk, Alice swayed, instinctively reaching out to grab the edge of the table to steady herself, but found nothing to grasp.

In the ethereal hallucination, she felt herself alternately grow larger and shrink smaller.

A group of inexplicably talking animals appeared around her, clamoring loudly.

Soon, her vision went black, and she tumbled down.

When she opened her eyes again, Alice found herself still in the study.

“Queen Isola? Duchess Liddell?” Alice sat up, looking at the doorway in surprise.

The two who had been standing there were gone.

Suddenly, a man’s voice sounded behind her: “Tea?”

Alice whirled around, her eyes widening in astonishment.

The desk was gone, replaced by a massive round table, its surface completely covered with a dozen different styles of teapots, teacups, and saucers.

A familiar face, whom Alice had once met in the Rabbit Hole dungeon, sat at the other end of the round table, calmly pouring himself tea.

“Mad Hatter!?” Alice instinctively cried out.

“We meet again, friend!” The Mad Hatter raised his teacup, doffing his hat in greeting.