Seriously?
The side effect was the taste?
Not dizziness, not vomiting, not a temporary loss of vision, just the taste?
That alone told me it was going to be the kind of flavor that traumatizes a man.
I stared at the potion again, lifting it up to eye level like it was some sort of enemy trying to deceive me.
How bad could it possibly be?
I didn't know why I even asked myself that question. Every time I thought something couldn't get worse, this world always found a way to prove me wrong.
Slowly, and with the same caution I'd use when disarming a monster trap, I uncorked the potion.
A faint hiss escaped.
Then wisps of green steam slipped out, coiling upward like the breath of something that had no business being ingested by living creatures.
That alone told me everything I needed to know.
So… why the hell did I decide it was a good idea to take a sniff?
Some stupid part of my brain probably assumed that if it tasted bad, it wouldn't smell that bad, right?
…Right?
Wrong.
