Roxanne Roswell had just reached the Witherby Clan’s apothecary. She parked the little runner cart, grabbed the key, and stepped through the front gate. Late again. A few customers were already browsing through baskets of herb plants.

Ulric Witherby, the shop’s manager and a direct heir of the clan, was introducing a batch of medicinal plants to them. He looked like a young man, though he was well past forty. In an age where humans lived three hundred years on average, forty still counted as youth.

When Ulric spotted Roxanne at the doorway, he lifted his chin. “Get to the back. A lot of herbs came in this morning. A few low‑grade spirit plants too. Sort them carefully.”

The customers glanced her way. Roxanne pretended not to notice, muttered a quick agreement, and slipped into the workshop at the back.

“You’re finally here.” Juliet Grayson, her only coworker, let out a long breath. Juliet’s skills weren’t as sharp as Roxanne’s, and her speed was worse. Most of the plant‑processing work basically relied on Roxanne—especially when it came to spirit plants. Anything handled by those small, deft hands of hers always kept most of its spiritual energy intact.

Roxanne lifted her hands and began trimming a spirit plant with practiced ease, her tongue moving just as fast as her fingers. She didn’t like being managed; Juliet was Ulric’s younger cousin. So the workshop belonged to the two of them. As long as the work flowed, they could chatter as much as they wished.

“How’s Ronan’s manic episode now? Are you really planning to use your own starcoins to buy him Calming Powder?” Juliet suddenly remembered to ask. Ronan Ives was Roxanne’s stepbrother, brought into the Roswell family when his mother remarried. He was a strong‑gene Thunder‑Flame warrior serving in the military, until an accident on a mission a month ago damaged his strong genes and sent him home.

Treating strong‑gene damage required spirit medicine. Even though Ronan’s Third Legion had provided some, the price of spirit medicine was sky‑high. The Roswell family simply couldn’t sustain his long‑term treatment. In such a short time, their savings had already been sucked clean.

Watching Ronan’s strong‑gene frenzy spiral out of control, Roxanne’s brain had short‑circuited. For days she’d been eyeing her private savings, nagging Juliet endlessly with the dilemma.

“I don’t know… Do you think I should give it?” Roxanne frowned. She’d been tangled up over this for days.

Roxanne had reincarnated—not taken over someone else’s body, but truly reborn with memories of her past life. She had a habit: whenever she faced a decision, she liked to hear someone else’s opinion first. Whether she took that advice or not was another matter. But when it came to giving up her private savings, she especially needed outside noise to steady herself.

“It depends on how you see it,” Juliet said, older and more long‑sighted. “If you really can’t stand watching him suffer, give part of your starcoins for spirit medicine. But don’t give everything away. Your family will need money later.”

Roxanne quickly finished processing a second‑grade spirit plant. After a moment’s thought, she muttered, “Ronan’s my stepmother’s child, not my real brother. I just worry that if I give my private savings, people will think I’m stupid.”

“You’re already done with one?” Juliet finally noticed the completed plant on Roxanne’s rack. Realizing her own pace had slowed without her noticing, she hurried her hands. “That’s not stupid. That’s called loyalty.”

Juliet was smooth with words, always ready with something pleasant. But that never worked on Roxanne.

“Say it straight.” Roxanne threw the words like a pebble, knocking Juliet’s flattery clean into the dirt.

When Roxanne asked for advice, she didn’t tolerate nonsense.