Kira Yoshi-lamb was so livid his lungs felt like they were about to burst.
His plan had been flawless.
First, he had created a soul-split fragment to parasitize the brain of this five-month-old lamb. Then, he had exploited Balor Academy’s tradition of purchasing live sheep to harvest their brains for the freshmen’s Witch’s Ointment, allowing himself to be mixed in.
Once the lamb’s brain containing the soul fragment was extracted and processed into the ointment, his essence would have integrated with the students’ mana through the Witch’s Ointment and their Stigmata. He would have successfully personal-vined himself into the bodies of an entire class of freshmen.
While a fragmented soul could only exert a weak influence, the bodies and spirits of young girls were fragile. They were far easier to manipulate than adults.
When the time came, he would have manufactured all sorts of hallucinations and auditory delusions in their minds, controlling their hearts, twisting their personalities, and planting nightmare suggestions to achieve his ultimate goal.
What a beautiful plan! What a stroke of genius! Success was within arm’s reach, just one final step away, and yet it was ruined by a loathsome, sanctimonious bitch!
“Baaaa-gaw!”
What am I supposed to do now? If I can’t finish the task that two-faced bitch gave me, my main body is going to suffer!
Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch! Despicable bitch!
However, his fury could not be expressed through a fluffy sheep’s face. His torrent of abuse came out as nothing more than a series of bleats in varying lengths.
You little brat! You dare grab me by the mouth? You’re dead! No one can save you now!
To Wang Yue’s ears, Kira Yoshi-lamb’s insults were just a string of rapid, unintelligible bleats.
Still fuming, the lamb gathered a mouthful of spit, built up his strength, and—Ptui!
A glob of spit shot out, flying straight toward the girl’s face!
Suddenly, her head tilted at a sharp, unnatural angle, dodging the projectile with eerie precision.
“You’re dead,” Wang Yue said through gritted teeth, enunciating every word. She was no longer planning to let this sheep live.
In her past life, she had eaten her fair share of lamb skewers, lamb spine hotpot, legs, trotters, and chops. Her only impression of sheep, one of the six traditional domestic animals, was that they were delicious.
Saving the lamb during the Potion-Making class hadn’t been an act of great mercy; it was merely a trivial favor to satisfy her little maid’s pointless compassion.
Medeili sat at the table, facing three glass jars, mumbling to herself.
“One bottle, two bottles, three bottles…”
“That poor crow,” Winnie’s voice drifted over from beside her.
Winnie was a girl with a bowl cut. She spoke timidly, constantly worrying about other people’s reactions—a bit too self-conscious for her own good.
When she first arrived at the school, Winnie had been terrified of her strange roommate. For a while, she lived in fear that she too would be stuffed into a jar, molded into the shape of the glass, and stared at by those large, purple, grape-like eyes.
After spending some time together, she realized that Medeili was actually quite gentle. She hadn’t done anything terrible to Winnie; it was just that Medeili never showed mercy to “unfortunate” small animals.
The first jar on the left contained a large crow. Its feathers had been plucked bare, revealing pale skin and curled talons. Its neck was twisted at a sharp angle, and its half-open eyelids revealed a dark, bruised red.
Medeili turned her head to look at Winnie and explained, “Most crows have masters. This crow didn’t belong to my family, nor did it belong to the academy. Yet it appeared, spying on us. I had no choice but to kill it and soak it in water.”
“It just looked at you once from the windowsill…”
“Winnie, don’t be so naive. Any abnormal behavior in an animal is the implementation of a controller’s will. Without enough caution, you’ll die.”
Winnie leaned against the table, letting out a troubled sigh. Medeili’s—or “Plum’s”—words were always baffling, yet she spoke with such serious, earnest conviction.
“I’m running out of jars. I need more. I’ll go buy some this weekend. I hope the little market has enough pretty ones,” Medeili said.
“Plum, are you going to the Quicksand Lowlands this weekend? I want to go too. I need to buy some grass-scented bath salts,” said Cynthia, a tall, thin girl with freckles.
“I’m coming too. I need some licorice root,” Eileen added.
“Alright, let’s go together then.”
Medeili wasn’t stubborn. After a day of interaction, she had realized that most people couldn’t stomach things like crows, sparrows, or snakes as food. Not everyone was like Wang Yue, who didn’t judge things by their appearance and focused on their essence.
She picked up the jar containing the crow and headed to the washroom to clean it out.
At the same time, she planned her trip to the Quicksand Lowlands. She didn’t just need jars; she needed normal ingredients.
From their conversations, she had noticed that Wang Yue showed a particular interest in pickled cucumbers and radishes. Since she liked them, Medeili decided she would pickle a large jar specifically for her.
When Medeili entered the washroom, Wang Yue was standing at the sink. A whetstone sat on the counter, sprinkled with water, making a skritch-skritch sound as she sharpened a blade.
Wang Yue held a high-quality steel deba knife. The spine was thick enough to slaughter and butcher a small lamb, provided she didn’t try to hack through heavy bone. She had borrowed it from Dina.
“Are you going to eat it?” Medeili asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I have a portion for meat jelly?”
“Take whatever you want.”
Kira Yoshi-lamb was stunned. His lips trembled as he let out a frantic series of cries.
Hey! You’re joking, right?!
