My Lady was right.

This was, in fact, a significant and unavoidable problem in her current situation.

Since gaining a mentor, the resources available to her had improved enormously compared to the period when she’d been grinding alone, running herself into the ground with no support.

Her access to potions had grown much broader. She could even work with formulations she wouldn’t have dared dream about before.

But in pursuit of maximum speed, the “Alpha” strain her mentor had her using was considerably more aggressive than the standard strains used by ordinary Second-Rank apprentices. More dangerous.

Every time she enhanced herself through infection, even with a combination of multiple auxiliary potions working to suppress it, she still needed more time than before to settle her body back down.

The sudden fever and skin flushing the previous night—that had been partly the infection inside her, not yet fully suppressed, still flickering with low activity.

“So...”

Pandora drew the last word out, and her clear eyes blinked once.

“Aurora. Have you ever considered that your potion regimen might have room to improve further?”

“Further improvement?”

Aurora’s eyes widened slightly. Genuine confusion moved across her face, chased closely by doubt.

Further improvement. What did that mean?

The formulation she was using had been designed by a professional team of compound specialists her mentor had personally commissioned. Tailored specifically to her constitution and her talent.

It was an extraordinarily precise “composite immunity enhancement program,” assembled from dozens of First and Second-Rank potions working in concert.

And its results were already remarkable.

For the standard Second-Rank strains supplied by the Corpse Hall, this program could compress the lingering post-infection reaction to a mere three days, and the full infection cycle to under a month.

Even with the enhanced Alpha strain she’d chosen to accelerate her growth, the program provided excellent suppression—effectively shortening her recovery periods, driving her toward completing her Second-Rank accumulation, and ultimately positioning her to step toward the threshold of the Third.

And now Pandora was suggesting she could improve on a program that was already this effective? One that had been validated through enormous amounts of data?

But... My Lady wasn’t a professional compound specialist.

Was this actually possible?

Pandora seemed to read every one of those thoughts as they rolled through Aurora’s head.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

She swirled the glass of red juice in her hand lightly, watching the drops trace down the inside of the glass, her tone calm and certain.

“I’m not a compound specialist. Assembling the kind of complex multi-potion strategy you’re currently using requires enormous amounts of experimental data and accumulated experience. That isn’t my area.”

She paused, then lifted her eyes and looked at Aurora directly.

“But what I can do is brew the potion that fits you best. From scratch.”

“Combining dozens of existing market potions and leveraging the interactions between their properties—counterbalancing negatives against positives to multiply the final effect—that is a very effective strategy. It’s also the current mainstream approach.”

“Alternatively, you replace those potions entirely. Instead of mass-market generics, you use something custom-brewed and refined by a skilled alchemist. Fewer potions in the combination, same effect or better. That is also a valid approach.”

“The second option is what I intend to do.”

“But...”

Aurora hesitated. She understood the theoretical difference between the two strategies well enough.

What she was skeptical about was whether this was actually achievable.

Custom-brewed potions tailored to her specifically?

She’d heard of it, certainly. She even privately suspected it was part of how Senior Brother Julian had advanced so quickly—alongside his extraordinary natural talent.

But this approach required an exceptionally skilled alchemist to craft the potions by hand. Across the entire Dead City, the number of people capable of doing this could be counted on one hand.

Which meant the cost was astronomical.

Far beyond anything a mentor could normally provide as sponsorship.

This was the kind of option that would only become realistic once she had sufficient power of her own—at minimum, after crossing into the Third Rank and establishing her own resource channels.

Not now. Not yet.

Pandora took in the slightly dazed, deeply skeptical expression on Aurora’s face.

She didn’t rush to argue her case. She didn’t produce any proof.

She just smiled slightly and asked, simply:

“Does this hotel have a room for potion preparation? A small alchemy workshop, or a lab of some kind?”

Aurora surfaced from her thoughts and answered before she’d even finished processing the question:

“Yes!”

Then a flicker of hesitation followed.

“Though it’s not part of the standard hotel operations,” she added, voice dropping slightly. “It was left behind as a special facility by a previous Vice Director. I might need to contact Senior Brother Julian and get his authorization...”

Pandora’s expression remained unchanged. She’d clearly already expected this.

“That’s fine. Ask him. You can tell him exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Aurora blinked. Then she nodded firmly.

“Alright.”

She worked the Palmfiend and sent Julian the request with Pandora’s intent attached.

What came back was unexpected.

Julian replied almost immediately. Nearly instant.

“Go ahead. The small workshop is on floor twenty-one. I’ll have Unit 039 take you there. If you need any potion materials, tell 039 as well—I’ll have the hotel prepare them.”

“Well? What did he say?”

She asked the question, but Pandora didn’t really need the answer. Aurora’s expression had already gone bright and startled in a way that told her everything.

Better than she’d anticipated, even.

“He said yes. And he’ll have Unit 039 take us there, and he’ll arrange the materials as well.”

Aurora stared at the Palmfiend’s response, a thread of disbelief in her voice.

Pandora gave a mild nod, the corner of her eye already catching a figure moving silently toward their table.

A woman in a server’s uniform. Her steps were light. Completely soundless.

“You must be Unit 039?”

Not a difficult guess.

In the Rust Greenhouse Hotel, numbered designations like that belonged exclusively to the non-human workforce—the Live Iron Golems. The attendants.

So Unit 039 was, in all likelihood, one of the hotel’s Live Iron Golem staff members.

The woman who had appeared beside their table wore her dark hair in a clean, precise cut. Her features were sharp and refined, her irises a deep shade of malachite green. She was strikingly beautiful in a way that carried a cool, almost distant edge.

“Yes, Miss Pandora.”

The attendant stopped beside the table and gave a polite, measured nod—the kind of textbook-perfect gesture that could have been lifted straight from a hospitality training manual.

Her gaze swept across the uncleared plates on the table, and she asked with practiced courtesy...