According to the secret agent, Benito, the shop’s site was behind a busy street full of stalls. It was marked by an X painted on the door at the end of the alleyway. But the location was vague, and it was challenging to find, with his head emptied of function. Feeling as if he were going to vomit, he wandered through the gloomy old brick alleyway.

Luciano paused in front of a rusty door. Its surface had been scratched with a sharp blade. As he kicked at the door with his foot, he heard a voice behind him.

He didn’t have the energy to hit the door with his hand anymore, and when he kicked it with his foot, he heard a voice from behind.

“Oh, what have you got against me? You’ve got some nerve in my shop. Do you want to die prematurely?”

There was no sign of anyone, but he turned back to see a man in a thick dark dressing gown with a hood. The heavy hood obscured the man’s face, which he wore deeply. Luciano thought it was him.

This man was Luteli, the Poison Master.

“I’d say welcome to my humble abode, but you’ve kicked the door of my precious shop. -It’s an old door. It must have warped.”

Luciano stared at the man in disbelief as he opened the door without paying him any heed.

“Do you want to come in or not? If you go in, you will lose your hair. What do you want?” Luciano felt that the door would never be opened again if he refused.

He nodded, “Very well.

♔♔♔

It was a mysterious and eerie shop. It was dim, with only the light shining through the round-stained glass. There were piles of herbs all over the shop, with jars of all sizes on the shelves. The contents contained an amalgam of seeds, larvae, weirdly coloured liquids, rotten fruit, and dubious eyeballs. On the counter, empty vials with familiar and elaborate decorations lay haphazardly.

It was humiliating to him to be guided to the back of the store.

The Poisoner told him to go into the hot water to collect his hair, which was apparently left over from the Poisoner’s baths.

Luciano had no intention of using anyone else’s water. The only hot water he would allow to remain in was that in which Alana had bathed. He did not hide his displeasure as he dipped in.

“Please, wash your hair thoroughly,” the Poisoner said. “In the country of Aldo, silver hair is highly prized and can fetch a high price from the nobility. Your hair is the finest silver, and there will be a great fight for it.”

Without saying a word, the Poisoner, who had stepped noiselessly around behind the bathtub, put a small knife to Luciano’s hair. The wet hair was transformed from waist-length to chin-length with a swift movement. It happened in an instant. It was as if he had been assassinated.

Luciano’s skin crawled.

He knew. The opponent was strong. He knew that in his exhausted state, he could not possibly win.

The Poisoner turned and walked away as he squeezed the silver strands of his hair and drained the water. “You’ve come at a good time, for I am folding up this shop, and so you’re my last customer.”

“Fold? Are you going to quit being a poisoner?”

Luciano got out of the water and reached for a nearby cloth to wipe his short hair. The weight on his head felt light.

The Poisoner turned to him, said, “Yes, the time has come,” and then pointed to a wardrobe.

“You can wear those clothes as you like. I’ll throw away these dirty ones.”

When Luciano looked at the wardrobe, he saw that it was filled with the same upper and lower garments as those of the Poisoner.

There was also a thick dressing gown of matching darkness. Luciano wanted to resist wearing them, but he thought he must.

“I’m specially asking for your request,” the Poisoner said. “Originally, my shop was… by referral only, and I’m not taking any new requests at the moment. I would have asked you to leave, but you gave me your hair.” After getting dressed, Luciano was offered a crude chair to sit in over the counter.

“Your poison is killing my wife. It’s a rose-scented poison. Give me the antidote for that.”

“Oh, that? It smells good, doesn’t it? I’m quite proud of it. At first glance, it seems to be rose water, but it is poison. It’s the kind of poison that you can’t help drinking after first drinking it. If you make the subject drink it every day until he coughs up blood, you can kill him in exactly two weeks. But if you dilute it a lot, it has another effect, you see? It weakens the target’s body. A strong knight will also be intangible.”

“I don’t care about the utility. Sell the antidote to me quickly. Otherwise, my wife.”

He mused, as if the statement was the most trivial and desperate thing he had heard.

“Isn’t it better for her to die.”