When The Silver Bell Of Charlotte's Pharmacy Rings - Chapter 1

Bang, bang!

“I’m coming out now!”

Ilina shouted irritably at the loud noise breaking through the pouring rain. Her husband lying next to her was still fast asleep, snoring loudly amidst all the commotion.

“Ugh, you bear of a man.”

Ilina flicked her husband’s nose, then kissed his forehead and tucked his messy hair into his nightcap. She found a blanket and draped it over her shoulders, then lit an oil lamp. All the while, the knocking on the door continued, mixed with the sound of rain.

Bang, bang, bang!

“Who is it?”

Ilina opened the door slightly without removing the crossbar and was startled. Despite the blinding rain, a man with a deathly pale face stood there, soaked from head to toe.

“Good heavens!”

Ilina opened the door in shock. The man was wearing clothes that were little more than rags, clearly either scavenged or stolen from somewhere. Ilina, who occasionally did sewing work to supplement their income, immediately recognized the faded gray ruffles and the well-stitched shape of the jacket. It must have once been a very fine garment, but now draped on the man’s body, it was no better than a rag.

“My goodness, what are you doing out in this rain? Who are you?”

“Ilina, what’s going on?”

Her husband, finally awake, came out to the living room rubbing his eyes. His face, still tired from hard labor, widened in surprise.

“Oh my!”

“Honey, look at this man. He looks like he’s about to collapse.”

Ilina’s husband hurried to the doorway. The man, who had been standing still in the pouring rain as if he had fainted, slowly raised his head.

Oh my. Ilina thought. This person might die soon. His face is the color of plaster.

“…May I…”

A small voice came from between the man’s lips. It was a terrible sound, like scraping rusty metal.

“What did you say?”

“I’d like to… take shelter from the rain. May I ask for your help…?”

Ilina looked at her husband’s face. He too seemed a bit uneasy about the man’s precarious state—what if he died after they let him in?—but the rain was pouring down so heavily. Thunder and lightning were flashing violently at the mountain ridge, and the wind was starting to howl, signaling an ominous dawn.

“Of course, come in. Our house is small, but it’s better than outside.”

The man stared intently at Ilina’s husband.

“Really? Are you… inviting me in?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying! Come inside quickly. Goodness, if we leave you out there for another minute, we might be clearing a corpse from our doorstep tomorrow!”

“Honey!”

Ilina scolded him softly. But the man, seemingly unperturbed, suddenly broke into an unexpectedly bright smile.

“Thank you.”

His wet shoes took one big step into the house.

The door closed behind the man.

The bell rang with a tinkling sound.

People who came and went here always marveled at the sound, yet found it difficult to describe exactly what it was like.

Some said it was like lightly tapping very clear glass—it had to be very clear—while others said it sounded like bright blue—it had to be bright blue—marbles colliding. Occasionally, there were opinions that it sounded like birds chirping or the innocent laughter of a baby.

However, the opinion of Miss Charlotte Berrett, the owner of the mysterious bell sound, did not match any of these. According to her, ‘the bell sound is just a bell sound’. She claimed that the silver bell hanging in her shop was not at all special and that anyone could get one if they paid for it.

“Excuse me…”

The woman, startled by the bell sound above her head, carefully looked around the empty shop. She should have been heard, either by the bell sound or her voice, but there was no answer, nor any footsteps of someone coming out.

As the door closed, the silver bell rang again with a tinkling sound. This time it was a bit softer, almost like a giggle.

“Excuse me, is anyone here?”

Silence fell again. The woman looked around with a troubled expression, then spotted an old stool and sat down on it. Her heart sank as the floorboards creaked beneath her.

The shop looked smaller than it did from outside, probably due to the large shelves that filled the space from behind the counter to the inner hallway. In the few spaces left, there were wide and deep baskets filled with dried herbs and twigs.

On all the walls hung bundles of dried flowers or plant stems, sometimes two or three bundles at once. On the pitch-black surface of the counter were various sized bottles of tinctures, bowls and pestles, scales, and other items scattered about. But what stood out most was the large warning sign prominently displayed at the front of the counter.

Do not touch anything.

The woman swallowed hard and peered down the dim corridor. She thought she heard something bubbling somewhere, but couldn’t tell if it was her imagination. The bitter, fragrant, and slightly sweet smell of herbs and tinctures was making her drowsy.

“What are you looking for?”

Just as the woman’s eyes were about to close drowsily, a startlingly loud and clear voice jolted her awake. She stood up so suddenly that the old stool tumbled pitifully to the floor.

“I’m, I’m sorry. I…”

After picking up the stool, the woman’s eyes widened as she saw the person standing behind the counter.

“What’s wrong?”

The woman’s lips quivered hurriedly. She couldn’t understand why her cheeks were suddenly flushing.

“Ah, um… I’m sorry. Are you… Miss Charlotte?”

The woman behind the counter blinked her large eyes. Then, pointing at the door with her finger—surprisingly white hands—she tilted her head. Her light silver hair, almost white in the sunlight, flowed smoothly.

“There’s a sign above the door that says ‘Charlotte Berrett’s Apothecary’. Didn’t you see it?”

“Ah, no. I mean, yes. I saw it… That’s why I came in.”

Charlotte blinked once more and then smiled brightly. It was a beautiful and kind smile that could captivate anyone who saw it.

“I see. I apologize. I hope you don’t take it too badly… Sometimes strange people come in asking all sorts of questions.”

“I, I didn’t come here for that. I really came to buy medicine…”

Charlotte nodded. Her light green eyes, sparkling like clean peridots, briefly looked at the woman’s hands resting on the counter. Despite summer not having fully retreated, she was wearing long, thick gloves that covered up to her wrists.

“It seems so.”

After saying that, Charlotte leaned on the counter with her arms spread like a man and nodded towards the woman’s hands.

“Take off your gloves.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. She looked surprised, embarrassed, and a bit angry. Biting her lips, she looked at Charlotte nervously as she rolled up her sleeves and undid the clasps of her gloves.

As she removed the gloves, a pained groan escaped her lips. The stench of pus and discharge filled the air. Charlotte frowned as she looked at the woman’s hands. From fingertips to wrists, they were severely burned and infected before healing.

Tears fell from the woman’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“How did this happen?”

“Lye. I dipped my bare hands in lye.”

“By accident?”

The woman shook her head and burst into tears. There was definitely some story behind this… but now was not the time to pry.

Charlotte opened a cabinet under the shelf and took out the softest linen. As the cloth touched the oozing wounds, the woman’s fingers twitched in pain.

“Don’t move.”

The woman sniffled. Charlotte wiped away the mess covering the entire hand and opened a shelf to take out a flat silver case and an envelope with a triangular folded opening.

“Stretch your fingers as much as you can.”

“It hurts.”

“I know. But try.”

The woman swallowed her groans and did as she was told. Charlotte first opened the silver case and used a stick to apply the light purple ointment inside to the wounds. Then she sprinkled the powder from the envelope using the tip of a small stick.

“It will smell quite strong, but bear with it. The ointment alone won’t heal the wounds quickly.”

“Will these wounds ever heal?”

“They would have healed faster if you hadn’t worn gloves in this hot weather to cover them up. Or if you had applied ointment right after dipping your hands in lye. It seems you didn’t treat them at all, what happened?”

The woman wrinkled her nose and her lips quivered.

“The madam was watching me, so I couldn’t go out.”

Charlotte tilted her head.

“Madam? Which madam?”

“Baroness Lirald. I work at her house… But recently, the madam accused me of stealing her favorite earrings. I really didn’t steal them! But they were found… in the drawer in my room. Then, then she said I was wicked and needed to be punished…”

“So she made you dip your hands in lye?”

The woman nodded. Tears fell drop by drop, even onto the back of her hands where the medicine had been applied.

Charlotte waited for the ointment to soak into the woman’s wounds before wrapping clean linen around them and said,

“Did you really not steal them?”

The woman’s eyes widened as if wronged.

“I really didn’t steal them! I’ve worked in that house for 6 years. If I had intended to steal something, I would have done it long ago. And those earrings, they’re not even that expensive. The madam just treasures them…”

“What kind of earrings are they?”

The woman’s lips drooped as she swallowed her sobs.

“Pearl earrings. But even to my eyes, they’re not high quality. They’re not pretty in shape, and they have some scratches… I think the madam has been acting strange lately. I know it’s not right to say this, but sometimes she seems like she’s lost her mind!”