Deroville carried Celoia all the way to the Great Wizard’s dwelling.
The Great Wizard’s residence was exceptionally remote, situated almost at the very edge of the Demon Realm. The narrow paths on either side were planted with many herbs usually found only in the human world. Celoia looked around curiously, feeling as though they had already left the Demon Realm behind.
However, the faint demonic energy in the air was impossible to ignore. It continued to seep into Celoia’s body in steady streams, counterbalancing the mana Deroville had left within him, swirling through his meridians.
“You don’t seem like you belong here, little cutie.”
A deep, raspy voice drifted from the depths of the nearby bushes. It sounded eerie, as if someone were whispering right into his ear.
Celoia, clearly not understanding the source, gasped and covered his ears. His eyes went wide, and he pursed his lips, scrambling to hide behind Deroville. Once he was sure he was covered, he poked his head out from beside the man’s leg to warily scan the surroundings.
Deroville had to stop to comfort him.
“Caesar, you shouldn’t scare him. He’s very timid.”
The man called Caesar slowly emerged from the bushes. His cloak was covered in grass stains, and his skin was dark and weathered. He looked very old, with deep wrinkles etched across his face, but his expression wasn’t fierce; strangely, it carried a hint of kindliness.
He squinted at Celoia, took a few deep breaths, and after a long silence, muttered slowly:
“Deroville, you’ve brought a rather troublesome little thing.”
Deroville felt no shame. He scooped Celoia up from behind him and tucked the boy into his arms. He raised an eyebrow and replied matter-of-factly, “Of course. If it weren’t troublesome, I wouldn’t have come to find you.”
Caesar let out a cold snort, but he didn’t refuse the treatment. He turned around and led the way toward the small hut.
Celoia wrapped his arms around Deroville’s neck, his lips pressed against the man’s ear as he asked in what he thought was a whisper: “Dero, this place looks so scary. There are herbs all over the ground. I won’t have to drink bitter medicine, will I?”
Deroville frowned upon hearing this. He thought back for a moment, recalling that Caesar usually preferred injections, so this time would likely be no exception. After a brief hesitation, he gave Celoia a reassuring answer: “Don’t worry, there’s no medicine for you to drink.”
He completely ignored the eerie smile on Caesar’s face as the old man walked ahead of them.
The inside of the hut was a mess, with almost no place to step. After pushing the door open, Caesar took a look around and casually cast a spell, tossing everything into the corners of the room in one go.
He sat down, and a small square table automatically floated in front of him, covered with various medical tools. Seeing that Deroville hadn’t set the boy down yet, he tapped the table impatiently. “Why are you wasting time? You know my rules for consultations. Put him down already.”
Deroville moved his arm reluctantly and suggested, “I remember you can use mana to pulse-check directly. There’s no need for these auxiliary tools; it’s a waste of time.”
But Caesar was displeased. “I have my reasons. Am I the one treating him, or are you?”
Deroville seemed to want to say more, but Celoia suddenly covered the man’s mouth with his hand.
Celoia blinked, looked at the stubborn Caesar, and proactively hopped out of Deroville’s arms to sit on the chair opposite the wizard. However, he soon let out a small “Ah,” his face full of confusion.
The table was so high that it blocked most of his face, leaving only his forehead visible. Caesar, sitting higher up, could only see the top of Celoia’s head. In this situation, forget a consultation—he couldn’t do anything at all.
Celoia slid off the chair and raised his arms to the table, laboriously propping himself up. He rested his chin on the tabletop and looked up, asking innocently: “Grandpa, how are you going to check me?”
For the first time, Caesar felt a suffocating sense of having nowhere to vent his annoyance.
He let out a deep breath, glared at Deroville, and said, “What kind of guardian are you? Can’t you see it’s inconvenient for him? Hold him.”
Deroville took the opportunity to scoop Celoia back into his arms. He didn’t argue with Caesar; before coming here, he had already mentally prepared himself to be scolded.
Because Caesar had once been hit by a strange curse, he had to utter a few insults every time he performed a treatment. If he were stopped from speaking, the treatment would fail.
Caesar said grumpily, “Stretch out your hand.”
Celoia obediently rolled up his sleeve and placed his soft, fair arm in front of Caesar. The wizard didn’t pay much attention and placed his hand on it as usual, but his expression shifted subtly the moment he touched the boy’s skin.
He pressed down on the small forearm, watching the skin indent and then spring back. He let out a soft “Eh?” “I thought it was just baby fat, but it’s actually quite solid.”
Celoia’s face turned bright red instantly. He almost wanted to pull his hand back, but Deroville, quick-witted, held it down.
“Why are you being shy?” Deroville said with a smile, nuzzling the top of Celoia’s head with his chin. “Our Celoia’s build is just right. It looks much better than those skinny people. Don’t you know this is called being well-proportioned?”
Celoia’s free hand doubtfully squeezed his own fleshy cheek. For the first time in his life, he felt a spark of doubt toward Deroville’s words.
Caesar let go at that moment, his expression becoming much more solemn. He beckoned Deroville over and proactively walked to a small cubicle at the back of the house.
The smile on Deroville’s face gradually faded. He frowned, coaxed Celoia to sit and wait for a moment, and then quickly went to find Caesar.
As soon as he pushed open the cubicle door:
“His constitution is difficult to regulate. I can only try one method of treatment. If this method fails, there are no other medical means that can help him.”
“You would only have the choice of finding other ways to change his constitution, or sending him out of the Demon Realm.”
Caesar’s eyes became exceptionally deep at this moment. He stated with certainty: “If a solution isn’t found, he won’t live for more than a month at most.”
Celoia was caught by Caesar and brought over to a pile of unknown instruments, with various unnamed medicinal ingredients spread out before him.
In a small clay pot in front of him, green liquid was bubbling and steaming, occasionally emitting an unpleasant smell.
Caesar stood before the pot, holding a small wooden stick and stirring the liquid gently. Whenever the ingredients in the pot dissolved completely, he would toss in another piece of something that was still wriggling.
Celoia shrank back fearfully, his voice trembling as he asked: “Grandpa, is this medicine you’re making for me to drink?”
Caesar gave a snorting laugh and grabbed another handful of things to throw in. “That’s right. All the medicine in here is yours, and this is just today’s portion.”
Celoia’s foot moved back stealthily, practically wanting to run away on the spot. But he was easily caught by Caesar and could only stand there with a miserable, aggrieved face, like a cat being forcibly groomed.
He was resistant, but powerless to rebel.
Caesar glanced at him a couple of times but quickly looked away. When he poured more things into the pot, he clearly felt the little guy’s gaze fixed intently on him, so intense that his hand shook, and a larger glob of something was poured in.
Oops. Poured too much. It seems to be the bitterest resin.
Caesar felt a rare trace of guilt. He didn’t stop stirring, but quickly reached down to pull several items from the bottom shelf of the instrument rack, placing them in front of Celoia. He said generously:
“These are sweetening agents. They can reduce the bitterness. Pick two, and I’ll put them in for you.”
Celoia’s eyes sparked. He stood on tiptoe, grabbed all of them, and then pressed his hands together over his heart. He pleaded in a soft voice: “Grandpa, you’re the best. Just smell it—this medicine is really, really bitter. Can you let me put all of these in?”
Caesar’s heart wavered. He looked down at the pitch-black, bubbling potion in front of him, and even his own mouth felt a bit bitter.
Celoia held the items up high and said sweetly, like he was acting spoiled: “Please, Grandpa.”
Caesar grabbed all the items and tossed them into the pot in one go, stirring vigorously. He coughed lightly, and for some reason, a faint red tint appeared on his face. He said in a low voice, “You… you should call me that a few more times.”
Celoia cheered. He was already imagining the taste of the sweet medicine. He called out several more times, crisp and willing: “Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa…”
When Deroville came over, he was handed a large cup of pink liquid. He shook the cup suspiciously and asked, “What is this? Don’t tell me you’ve made another prank potion.”
Caesar coughed awkwardly, stroked his non-existent beard, and rubbed his eyes that weren’t tired at all. He explained in a low, somewhat uncomfortable voice:
“This… this is the potion the little kid you brought has to drink. One full cup a day for three consecutive days, followed by one injection. Then the treatment will be over, and you can leave.”
Deroville was stunned. He leaned in to sniff the cup; it was a faint, indeterminate sweet smell. Coupled with the dreamy color, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “So you can make sweet potions. This does a disservice to your reputation as the ‘Bitter Medicine Killer’.”
Caesar stammered a couple of “Mm-hms,” sweat appearing on his brow.
Deroville sensed something was slightly off, but Caesar wouldn’t go as far as to harm anyone. He looked at the potion and thought Celoia would like the sweet taste.
Sure enough, when Celoia saw the potion, he happily took the cup. Before actually drinking it, he didn’t forget to thank them: “Thank you, Dero. Thank you, Grandpa. I’ll be good and finish it.”
Deroville’s eyes crinkled, but before he could even form a smile—
Celoia, after taking a huge gulp, suddenly spat everything out. He covered his mouth, and his eyes were instantly filled with tears.
Deroville straightened up in shock.
He heard Celoia’s tearful, aggrieved complaint:
“Dero… this potion tastes so bad!”
Caesar looked up at the ceiling. He knew it. Those few sweeteners couldn’t possibly suppress the bitterness of that resin.
This potion really only looked good!