Nyaogi opened her door with an anxious look. Kairo quickly said, "The inspector's searching the inn. He's downstairs now but will be up here soon, I’d wager."

Her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

Nyaogi sprang into action, rushing to hide her supplies, Kairo right behind her. Time was too short to move everything, so she swiftly concocted a plan for a diversion.

In her room, Nyaogi worked rapidly, mixing herbs and liquids with precision. She aimed to create a potion to temporarily incapacitate the inspector, giving them time to hide evidence.

Kairo observed, as Nyaogi brewed the potion. It was a risky move, but their only option. He stood by, ready to help, hoping this plan would protect the inn's secrets.

Nyaogi's room buzzed with urgency. She needed to be quick yet accurate, a tough task under stress. Was it two vials of water or three? Her hands shook as she worked, but her concentration never wavered. She slid the kynik stone into its slot in the alembic and flipped a switch. Water bubbled.

She added herbs, stirred the mixture, and checked its consistency, her forehead glistening with sweat from the pace and pressure.

She also had to hide her potion-making supplies. Her gaze fell on her bed. Not the best hiding spot, but not the worst. She swiftly began moving unused items beneath the bed, juggling between brewing and concealing her tools.

Kairo watched from the doorway, his gaze flicking anxiously down the hall.

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Nyaogi's focus was unyielding. The pressure was immense, allowing no room for mistakes.

Nyaogi's hands began to tremble under the strain of multitasking. She moved between the potion and her hidden supplies, her mind constantly tracking both her brewing and her concealment efforts. She needed to switch the alembic off in thirty seconds.

Downstairs, the everyday sounds of the inn drifted up to her room, intensifying her urgency. The murmur of conversations, footsteps, and the occasional clink of glassware served as a constant reminder of their precarious situation. The soft sound of her potion bottles as she moved them seemed to mimic a ticking clock, marking time in a tense countdown.

Nyaogi was so engrossed in her work that time seemed irrelevant. Her world had shrunk to the immediate tasks: turn off the alembic, filter the herbs, and hiding another box of supplies. Stress mounted with each minute, underscoring the critical nature of her actions.

Nyaogi pushed on. She focused intently on the potion, noting its color shift to a sickly green as a sign of progress.

#

In her room, Nyaogi was engulfed in anxiety. Her trembling hands shook as she removed the vial from a stand. The stakes of her next actions loomed large, intensifying the danger with each passing second.

She mentally reviewed the potion recipe, ensuring precision. The potion needed to be potent yet harmless. Her expertise in potion-making was her critical edge in this crisis.

She measured and mixed with precision, her gaze flicking to the door, watchful for the inspector. Each addition to the potion felt like a small triumph, a step towards buying them time.

As Nyaogi worked, the thought of the potion's impending effect on the inspector drove her. She envisioned a convincing, yet harmless, sickness to distract him. It wouldn’t hurt him too badly. Probably.

The potion's color and texture transformed with each ingredient she added. She moved with deliberate care, focusing intently in the midst of internal turmoil.

Her room was a quiet hub of activity. Nyaogi, at its heart, worked with a calm driven by urgency.

She took the vial in her left hand and the kynik stone in the right.

She took a deep breath, and then imbued the potion with thoughts of plague and vomit, illness and rotting food.