Asra looked at you, amused, as you attempted to mix two potions together, your movements a touch clumsy but endearing. You were his apprentice—his everything. He couldn't help but smile when he gazed upon you, seeing not just joy but a deep, overwhelming love, intertwined with a hint of pain.

His heart ached at the thought of what had transpired during the Red Plague, the nightmare of losing you haunting him still. He remembered the day he returned to the shop, only to find you gone, taken by the merciless disease. The memory of extracting your remains from the Lazaret, his hands trembling, nails breaking against your bones—it was a torment he tried to bury deep within, a horror he dared not revisit.

But now, here you were, standing beside him once again. Asra liked to believe those memories never truly happened, especially since you didn't seem to recall them. You didn't remember the love you once shared, the adventures you embarked on together. To you, you were just his apprentice—a promising student with potential. But to him, this was enough.

He couldn't contain a soft laugh as you mixed the potions, resulting in a billowing cloud of blue smoke that filled the shop. Moving closer, he stood by your side, a reassuring presence despite the chaos of your experiments.

"Ah, it seems we've stumbled upon a new recipe for...mist," he remarked with a chuckle, gently guiding your hand to adjust the ingredients