On the island of Aeaea, the night was as quiet as still water, with a crescent moon hanging high in the sky.
As dinner time approached, the rich aroma of food wafted out from the treehouse.
"Tomorrow morning, I want to leave the island for a bit."
"You're leaving?"
Circe, who had been bustling happily around the dining table, now looked up in surprise, her smile freezing on her face.
Lorne set down his spoon and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Don't worry, I'm just going to find some nearby targets to practice on, to see if I can find a way to break through."
"Really?"
Hearing this explanation, the gloom on Circe's face lessened slightly.
She then sniffed suspiciously, leaning in to give Lorne a thorough once-over, and her gaze sharpened.
"Wait, that's the smell of a lie!"
*Thwack!*
A loud flick landed on Circe's head, and Lorne pointed behind her with a dark expression.
"What smell of a lie? If you don't turn around soon, the kitchen's going to catch fire!"
Instantly, Circe jolted, her eyes darting to the bubbling pot on the stove, its edges already glowing red.
Her face changed, and she let out a shriek as she rushed into the chaotic scene.
"Ah, my Kykeon 3.0!"
Fifteen minutes later, the soot-covered great witch of Aeaea emerged from the smoke-filled kitchen, clutching half a pot of salvaged porridge.
Her once fair face was now completely blackened, leaving only her pinkish eyes darting around.
The sharpness and depth she had momentarily displayed earlier were gone, replaced by an unmistakable aura of "wisdom."
Sitting at the dining table, Lorne twitched his lips and shook his head, resting his forehead in his hand.
"So, you're leaving tomorrow morning? This meal can double as a farewell feast for you."
Circe, unfazed, wiped her face with clean water and enthusiastically began promoting her latest creation to her beloved disciple.
"Come on, try my newly concocted porridge! Fresh out of the pot, guaranteed to be fresh!"
Lorne glanced at the thick green soup that seemed to be infused with some kind of dark energy, along with the suspicious blackened sediment floating at the bottom of the pot that looked like charred crocodile skin.
He then sniffed the heavy burnt smell lingering in the air, his eyelids twitching.
He suspected that one bowl of this would be enough to send him straight to the afterlife.
"It's burnt. Next time, for sure!"
Lorne maintained a stiff smile, pushing the bowl away and politely declining what could either be Circe's kindness or malice.
Then, without waiting for the witch to react, he decisively pulled away from the dining table with a very smooth posture, and moved a sealed pottery jar from under the floor of his bedroom and placed it on the dining table.
"Just in time, I made some drinks earlier. Let's try mine first."
As he spoke, the aged seal on the clay jar was broken, and a rich, intriguing fruity aroma filled the air.
Then as he tilted the jar, a stream of deep purple nectar poured into an empty bowl, shimmering with an amber-like glow.
Circe's nose twitched, and her eyes lit up. "It smells amazing! Did you make this with grapes?"
Lorne smiled and nodded, picking up the clay bowl and handing it to his witch teacher. "Authentic grape juice. Give it a try."
Circe took the pottery bowl and looked at the crystal clear liquid in the container curiously, but did not rush to drink it. Instead, she squinted her eyes and glanced at her beloved disciple suspiciously.
"Something's wrong... You've never been this attentive before. Did you poison this or something?"
"Yeah, yeah, I poisoned it."
Lorne rolled his eyes and reached out to take the clay jar back.
"Stop bluffing! It's obviously just grape juice!"
However, before Lorne could grab it, Circe snatched the jar away, puffing out her chest confidently.
"Hmph, even if it is poisoned, I'm not afraid! I taught you potion-making, after all. With your skills, you couldn't possibly poison me!"
With that said, the witch raised the corners of her lips, picked up the pottery jar unexpectedly, and poured the entire jar of grape juice directly into her throat.
"You... you drank it all?"
Lorne stared in shock at Circe, whose belly was now round, his expression a mix of disbelief and complexity.
"Of course I did!"
Circe proudly tilted her chin up, grinning as she revealed her true intentions.
"Hmph, your secret stash is all gone now... Now... now... drink my porridge... drink... drink it!"
However, for some reason, her thoughts grew more and more sluggish, her words slurring.
A wave of heat surged through her body, and her feet felt as if they were stepping on cotton, causing her to sway unsteadily from side to side without any force.
The scenery around her began to spin and blur.
"Strange... why are there... two of you now?"
Circe held the bowl of porridge in one hand while scratching her head with the other, her fair face flushed like a fiery sunset.
"I told you to take it slow, and you just chugged it all..."
Looking at the witch of the hawk stumble around him, Lorne twitched his lips and sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"How do you feel now?"
"My head... feels a bit dizzy... but... amazing!"
Circe raised a fist in the air, showing an unusual level of excitement.
"Then, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"Ten!"
The witch answered cheerfully, her face full of pride.
"Congratulations, you're correct!"
Lorne loudly praised her while discreetly hiding his right hand, which was holding up two fingers, behind his back, looking at the stupid bird that was staggering and obviously losing her mind, in satisfaction.
Hmm, she's already out of it.
It seems that, just as the epics recorded, even a demigod can't resist the effects of this magical concoction called "wine."
Especially the wine he personally brewed and refined.
Lorne pushed aside the Kykeon 3.0 in front of him, hefted the now-empty clay jar on the table, and a pleased smile curved his lips.
A few years ago, during his free time, he had gathered grapes from the island and, using a natural fermentation method he remembered from ancient texts, attempted to brew a private batch.
This method didn't require adding yeast; instead, it relied on the natural yeast present on the grape skins.
By sealing and controlling the temperature, the grapes would ferment into wine.
Perhaps it was due to his innate talent from his divine bloodline, but he had an extraordinary sensitivity and understanding of brewing-related matters.
The experiment succeeded on the first try, and the result was a high-quality brew.
These stored reserves were originally prepared for that gambling-addicted goddess.
However, considering that the risks were very high and the other party was too keen, he might end up losing more than he gained.
Thus, the first batch was ultimately used on Circe, this silly bird.
Originally, he had only planned to use the wine as an excuse to have a few drinks and get his witch teacher drunk.
But who would have thought she would either be overconfident or genuinely bold enough to down the entire jar of his carefully brewed wine in one go?
Now, she probably wouldn't wake up for three to five days.
But that's just fine...
Lorne looked up at Circe, who was now deeply unconscious and snoring on the table. Rubbing his hands together, he approached the great witch of Aeaea, his handsome face illuminated by the moonlight, revealing a mischievous smile.
Teacher, after all the times you've put me through hell, it's finally your turn to cough up some gold.