Dante was startled by the servant's sudden appearance. For a second, panic ran through his body at the thought that he had been discovered, but he quickly calmed down. 'She probably thinks it's just a childish game,' he reassured himself mentally.
However, as he processed the woman's words, he remembered a crucial detail: the snake was not venomous.
Dante lowered his gaze toward his dog, observing him with deep resentment.
'Give me back my tears, you dramatic bastard,' he thought, narrowing his eyes at the canine.
"Well, young master, it's time to return," the servant declared, breaking the silence.
Dante nodded reluctantly, but before taking a single step, he crouched down and firmly grabbed the chocolate-colored snake's corpse. Seeing that, the servant opened her mouth, ready to scold him and make him drop the stinking creature. Dante, anticipating her reaction, moved faster and interrupted her with a childish yet firm voice:
"It's my trophy! My first prey."
The servant fell silent. In the end, she said nothing; she merely shook her head from side to side and let out a resigned sigh.
As they made their way back to the mansion, Dante walked close to the edges of the path. Completely discreetly, he stretched out his small hand and abruptly pulled out a handful of blue grass, which grew like ordinary weeds between the garden stones. The servant noticed the gesture but did not give it the slightest importance.
Seeing that no one paid attention to him, a wave of euphoria swept through Dante's body. He now had both ingredients in his possession.
...
As night fell, the mansion sank into absolute silence. Dante patiently waited in his bed until he was certain that all the residents and servants were fast asleep. With his heart pounding wildly, he jumped out from under the covers carrying a metal bowl he had kept hidden in his room.
He looked to both sides of the hallway, making sure the guards were nowhere nearby, and began advancing in a crouch, sticking to the shadows as he headed toward the main kitchen.
When he confirmed that he had managed to sneak away without raising suspicion, he carefully dragged over a small wooden stool, climbed onto it, and stared at the large stove before him. Dante could not help but marvel. Although this world greatly resembled the medieval era, it sometimes possessed almost modern conveniences thanks to magical artifacts. A clear example was that stove, equipped with fire stones: magical minerals capable of generating constant and adjustable heat for efficient cooking.
Dante shook his head, driving away those thoughts so he would not get distracted, and got to work. He placed a pot with some water onto the magical stove, activated the fire stone, and threw in the entire snake along with the blue grass. Grabbing a large wooden spoon, he began stirring energetically.
"Good thing that, unlike other worlds where alchemy or complex potion brewing is needed, the process here is quick and simple..." he murmured quietly while watching the broth boil.
Hours passed. The body of a four-year-old child began to exact its toll, and Dante started feeling overwhelming drowsiness. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and his eyes shut for seconds at a time, but he forced himself to stay alert, clinging to the spoon and continuing the stirring motion.
Suddenly, a peculiar aroma filled the air, completely dispelling the foul and repulsive smell the brew had at first.
It was a sweet and comforting scent. It smelled exactly like vanilla.
"Great, I did it!" Dante exclaimed in a whisper, his cheeks reddening from pure excitement.
All the sleepiness vanished instantly. He turned off the magical stove with hands trembling from excitement, searched for an empty glass bottle he had prepared beforehand, and with extreme care began pouring the medicinal liquid into it. During the process, he spilled a few drops onto the table, but he did not care in the slightest; the only thing that mattered to him was filling that bottle so the cure would work.
Once he saw the bottle filled to the brim, he let out a long sigh of relief. Without caring in the slightest about cleaning the mess or putting away the kitchen utensils, he ran back to his room at full speed.
He threw himself onto the bed on his back, raising the glass bottle against the faint moonlight streaming through the window. His cheeks flushed once again with excitement as he realized that, thanks to that brew, everything was about to change.
While savoring thoughts of his glorious future and his mother's salvation, exhaustion finally overcame him. Dante closed his eyes and fell deeply asleep, maintaining a huge smile on his face.
The next day, Dante jolted awake as soon as he opened his eyes. However, the moment he noticed the glass bottle he had not let go of all night, intense excitement overwhelmed him. He immediately jumped out from under the covers and ran toward the dining room at full speed.
There she was. His mother looked deathly pale, but upon seeing him enter, she gave him a deeply gentle smile.
"Mother!" Dante greeted enthusiastically, trying to climb onto one of the tall dining chairs by himself.
The nearest servant, seeing her young master's clumsy efforts, picked him up with an expression of subtle helplessness and settled him into the seat.
Lucía, upon witnessing her son's overflowing energy, could not help but let out a small laugh. However, the joy quickly faded, replaced by deep melancholy. What terrified her was not so much the idea of dying, but the painful thought of never seeing her beloved son again and leaving him alone in this world.
Suddenly, she noticed Dante staring at her with enormous expectation while extending his little hands toward her, offering her a glass bottle.
"Mother, I created a potion... This could cure you!" the child exclaimed firmly.
Lucía stretched out her hand and took the bottle her son offered her. Upon looking at it, a mixture of exasperation and amusement crossed her face; that very morning, it had already been discovered who the culprit was behind leaving the main kitchen upside down and completely messy the previous night.
As she examined the liquid through the glass, she noticed that the brew had a rather strange purple color.
Lucía was about to shake her head and gently tell him there was no need. She knew perfectly well that her condition had no cure. In fact, Dante learning about her imminent death had been part of a cold tactical agreement from her husband, who insisted that the child needed to prepare for the loss; a decision she had never agreed with, yet one she could do nothing about.
However, when she looked into her son's heterochromatic eyes, which watched her with unwavering faith, she did not have the heart to reject him. A dark yet tender thought crossed her mind: 'Even if this brew is useless... even if it's poisonous, it doesn't matter. I'm doomed anyway.'
So, under Dante's expectant and hopeful gaze, Lucía brought the bottle to her lips and began drinking it.
The liquid slid down her throat, and immediately a comforting warmth spread through her chest. She did not know whether it was merely her imagination driven by the desire to please her son, but as soon as she swallowed the final drop, she felt the air entering her lungs more easily. For the first time in months, her body felt incredibly light.