Wine and Poison Chapter 9 - A Strange Cohabitation

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The sound of chirping birds played like leisurely music in the quiet forest. The cool, bitter mountain air of the morning fills her lungs. 

 

After an hour’s walk through the nearby herb garden upon waking, Scylla paused in the middle of the herb trail leading to the cabin.

 

Her creased eyes scowled at the hut. It had been five years since she’d made her home on Mount Cithearon, and she hated it when creatures immune to the herbs’ hallucinogenic substances would creep so close.

 

She’d wandered far and wide before settling down near Thebes, and that was enough time for her to learn that an old woman who looked like her would be labeled a witch even if she stayed still.

 

‘I’ve had my fair share of witches intrigued by the word, but never one as strange as this one.’

 

Though she’d met plenty of oversized, self-proclaimed heroes, she’d never met anyone so insane that they’d asked her to be their apprentice because they admired her skills.

 

‘He was quite young, maybe just coming of age, but he seemed to have a lot of experience for his age. His dress was that of a poor traveler, but his speech and skin were that of a wealthy man.…’

 

She frowned, not wanting to enter the cabin. 

 

Such a contradictory description.

 

‘What is he doing?’

 

A trickster would fit the bill, she thought, her guard rising. If only the mention of hydra venom hadn’t put her off.

 

Nope, she spat out a pained sound.

 

She’d been studying venom for more than a decade, but lately she’d hit a wall, she needed new knowledge, new tools, new poisons. 

 

His presence at this time of need could be the breakthrough she needed, so she accepted, but a subtle twinge of regret told her she’d done the wrong thing.

 

‘No, it’s not. I don’t think he’d crawl all the way here to get something from an old geezer like me. If he’s suspicious, we can deal with him in his sleep.’

 

From the way he spoke, he seemed to have some expertise with poisons, so he should be able to get what he wanted. 

 

He’s young, so there’s a good chance he doesn’t have anything useful to offer, but it’s rare to find a human who specializes in poisonous herbs, so he might be of some use.

 

If all else fails, she might be able to use him as an assistant in gathering dangerous ingredients, and since he asked for an apprentice first, that’s the least she could do.

 

‘If he can’t handle it, he’ll run away.’

 

She has nothing to lose. Despite her conclusion that it wasn’t a bad idea, her pace toward the hut grew slower and more frantic. 

 

The very thought of someone other than herself in the cabin made her steps heavier. She had been alone for over a decade. The presence of someone else in her space was foreign enough.

 

A faint grunting sound caught her ear as she tried to delay her entry into the cabin as long as possible. 

 

Turning her head, she saw a black snake slithering in the grass, covered from head to toe in black charcoal.

 

Scylla’s white eyebrows arched. The plant poking its bushy head out of her herb garden was the Devil’s Grass, a plant that had been deliberately plucked and planted elsewhere to attract herbalists, hunters, and other intruders who happened to wander in.

 

The snake slithered happily on the grass, apparently entranced by the hallucinogenic substances it exuded. 

 

It chewed on the precious herbs she’d brought with her to use in times of need.

 

With a quick flick of her hand, Scylla grasped the snake’s triangular head between her thumb and four fingers and squeezed. 

 

In a moment of euphoria, the snake’s head snapped up in the air and its jaws opened in surprise.

 

Hiss!

 

Scylla pressed harder on the snake’s head. The sharp-toothed snake swung its pointed tail wildly. 

 

Thyrsus was devastated, having been defecated on in the middle of his happy time.

 

He reflexively bared his venomous fangs. 

 

Knowing Dionysus’s penchant for concealing his identity when he encounters an interesting human, 

 

Thyrsus did not want to spoil his fun, so he wrapped his tail around her forearm.

 

Scylla glared at Thyrsus, supporting him with one arm.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Her hazel eyes slowly scanned Thyrsus’s body. Her gaze traveled over the glossy black scales, the triangular head, and the supple body.

 

“I suppose it could be useful.”

 

Her mouth twitched. The greedy gleam in the golden eyes sent a shiver down Thyrsus’s spine, though he couldn’t read the human intentions. His sharp black eyes narrowed and fluttered.

 

Thud—

 

Just then, the old door of the hut opened.

 

“Master, breakfast is ready, come in…”

 

Dionysus was about to call the elderly woman, but stopped when he saw her holding a snake the thickness of a child’s wrist wrapped around one arm, peering into the snake’s mouth. 

 

His expression changed strangely. 

 

‘What the hell is going on here?’ 

 

Thyrsus gazed at him pleadingly.

 

— Master, help me!

 

— This human is trying to eat me!

 

— This human is weird!

 

— This human is creepy!

 

Thyrsus’s scream, heard only by him, pierced his ears.

 

“Master, what about that snake…?”

 

“It was lurking in my herb garden, and from the looks of it, it seems to have a pretty good venom, so I’m going to study it.”

 

The old woman replied bluntly. 

 

Gone was the grave, serious look she had given Thyrsus just moments before, the corners of her mouth twitching upward, her hand still gripping Thyrsus’s head gently but firmly. 

 

Dionysus’ state of mind was even stranger.

 

Thyrsus was still screaming.

 

— Master!

 

— Master, help me!

 

— It’s trying to eat me!

 

— Argh!

 

Dionysus thought for a moment. Judging by the shape of the hand holding Thyrsus’ head, it didn’t look like it was going to kill him right away.

 

‘This old woman is still wary of me, and I can’t afford to arouse her suspicions.’

 

Dionysus smirked at the old woman, who was still aloof from him.

 

“Please excuse yourself and come in!”

 

Thyrsus’s howls pierced his ears. Dionysus turned his head coldly away.

 

Dionysus’s eyes scanned the food on the table. 

 

There were raspberries on a wooden plate, some pomegranate fruit he’d picked while walking nearby, three pieces of dried rabbit meat, and a potato.

 

Except for the pomegranate, he had scraped together what he had at home, a rather shabby diet for a wandering nobleman of a wanderlust world who had never felt comfortable eating and sleeping with the devotion of his worshipers. 

 

Still, it wasn’t bad. Besides, the old woman didn’t eat much, and it was hearty compared to her usual diet. 

 

Dionysus shrugged, ‘All right. This is good enough.’

 

The old woman was an apothecary and poison maker, and a pretty good one at that. 

 

So Lancion hadn’t been wrong about seeing a witch. 

 

Compared to apothecaries, who were considered good witches, poison makers were frowned upon in many cities. 

 

There was a reason they were called witches, even if they couldn’t use magic. The witches who were looked down upon were usually wicked at heart.

 

‘She’s pretty innocent for such a thing.’ 

 

Dionysus found the old woman intriguing. Though he quickly realized that what he was seeking was poison, and he had taken up residence in this house as a novice of poison, the old woman’s vigilance was such that unless it involved poison. He was not allowed to speak to her. 

 

Confined to a single room in the hut and exposed to poison every day, he had only seen the old woman’s face for a total of three hours in the two days he had been in the cottage.

 

Dionysus had about a week to spare before he decided to spend his time here, two of which were spent fruitlessly, which was both ridiculous and exasperating. 

 

For, far from being a troublemaker to his followers, he was very confident of his charms. 

 

Even though he had been transformed into this form by Hera, he could still capture the heart of a human being, even a lonely old woman, if he set his mind to it. 

 

But the old woman was so close to him that even the gods of Olympus could hear his admiring voice, and yet she either ignored him or shunned him, and Dionysus’s pride was crushed day by day.

 

He began to wonder, ‘How long will she ignore me? What was worse was that the fact that she only spoke to me when I was needed was a clear indication that she wanted to swallow only sweet and sour things and throw them away.’

 

Yesterday, he had only exchanged three words with the old woman. 

 

— “Do you know the name of this poison?” 

 

— “If you were to use it as a concoction, what would you do with it?” 

 

— “What do you think would be the probable complications in making a concoction?” 

 

Just to see how different the answers were from his ideas.

 

It meant that she recognized his abilities with poisons, but Dionysus, who had never been treated this way by a woman before, was growing more and more bewildered by the minute.

 

Of course, the old woman’s attention was as worthless as Maenades’s blind obedience, but it was one thing to feel insignificant and quite another for her to pay no attention to him at all. 

 

In other words, she was supposed to worship him, even if he annoyed her. 

 

If Aphrodite had heard this, she would have said, ‘I’m the goddess of beauty, not you,’ but Dionysus was proud anyway.

 

Any human being with five senses was entitled to worship him. 

 

Of course, it’s important to note that he wasn’t fully naked. 

 

Even in his normal state, he wouldn’t have revealed his true form to the old woman. His pride was too wounded for that. Despite all the odds he’s facing, he’s still going to win over this ugly, eccentric old hag.

 

But there was no time for conversation, and there was nothing to do but be mesmerized. 

 

Dionysus’ answer to this conundrum was to eat. 

 

Of the two things he must do as long as he was mortal, feeding a human who saw him as nothing more than a spade, or sulking over his inability to capture a single human. 

 

The latter was the more ego-bruising for Dionysus. 

 

He was a god who had previously seduced even Pentheus, who had insulted and ignored him, into driving himself to his death.

 

‘If only we had wine.’

 

Anyway, this was all I could muster for now. 

 

Something to fill the stomachs would soften the old woman’s ferocity and open the door to conversation.

 

A few moments later, the door to the hut opened. 

 

The old woman entered with a satisfied look on her face. She pulled a small, elaborate leather pouch from a display case and held it up to the black snake’s teeth.

 

Dionysus stood by the table and watched her extort the venom from Thyrsus.

 

Yet his eyes were cold and heartless. Thyrsus’s tail twitched.

 

“Now, stay here and recover, Nero.”

 

Thyrsus’s dark eyes fluttered slightly as he spoke, his voice rough and raspy but tinged with endearment. 

 

They were warm and fuzzy like spring soil compared to his master’s cold gaze.

 

‘No, I’m impressed by a thief who held me down, forced me to open my mouth, and took my precious poison!’

 

Thyrsus’s slender tongue flicked wildly, and he glanced absentmindedly at Dionysus. 

 

He was still as cold as a frozen forest lake. 

 

The old woman gently stroked Thyrsus’s limp head, placed him in a basket woven from thick grass and closed the lid. She even threw a thick cloth over him to keep him warm.

 

Dionysus, meanwhile, was dumbfounded.

 

‘Nero?’

 

“I suppose that’s the name given to the snake, Nero.”

 

He swallowed his incredulity and spoke softly, and the old woman glanced at him. 

 

She didn’t nod or respond, as if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

 

Dionysus’s stomach twisted at the look on her face, so different from the one he’d seen when she’d faced Thyrsus.

 

Come to think of it, he didn’t even know the old woman’s name.