Yuki Tanaka had been awake for exactly thirty-six hours when the floor of her apartment bathroom melted beneath her feet.

One moment, she was standing in front of her mirror, staring at the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and contemplating if this was finally the day she'd quit her job at MegaPharm. The next, the tile floor rippled like water, and she was falling through what felt like warm jello.

"What the—" was all she managed before darkness swallowed her whole.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying face-down in grass that smelled impossibly sweet, like someone had infused it with vanilla and cinnamon. Yuki blinked, slowly pushing herself up. Her white pharmacist coat was smudged with dirt, and her badge still hung from her pocket, declaring "Yuki Tanaka, PharmD – Senior Pharmacist."

"Am I hallucinating?" she muttered, pressing her palms against her temples. "This is what happens when you work three double shifts in a row. You start hallucinating magical meadows."

But the breeze that rustled her short black hair felt real. So did the warm sun on her skin and the chirping of birds that sounded... oddly melodic, almost like they were singing actual tunes instead of random birdsong.

Yuki stumbled to her feet and turned in a slow circle.

The meadow stretched out around her, dotted with wildflowers in colors she'd never seen before—blues that shifted to purple when the wind touched them, and golden blooms that seemed to sparkle. Beyond the meadow stood a forest with trees so tall they seemed to brush the clouds. And to her left, nestled at the edge of the forest, was a small village of thatched-roof cottages and winding cobblestone streets.

"Okay," she said to herself. "Either I'm having the most detailed breakdown in medical history, or I've somehow landed in a Studio Ghibli movie."

With no better options, Yuki started walking toward the village. As she got closer, she noticed people moving about—people wearing clothes that looked straight out of a medieval fantasy RPG. Women in long dresses and aprons, men in simple tunics and trousers.

And they were all staring at her.

Yuki looked down at her modern outfit—navy blue scrub pants, white coat, sensible sneakers—and sighed. "Great. I'm hallucinating and I'm underdressed."

An elderly woman with a kind face and silver hair pulled into a bun stepped forward. She wore a simple blue dress with a white apron, and her eyes widened when she saw Yuki.

"By the Crystal Moon," the woman gasped, dropping into a deep curtsy. "The prophecy was true. The Witch of Remedies has returned to us!"

Yuki blinked. "I'm sorry, the what now?"

Before she could get an answer, the woman turned to the gathering crowd. "Everyone! It's happening! The sign in the sky last night—it was the summons! The Witch has come back to Moonflower Hollow!"

The villagers erupted in cheers. Several people rushed forward, reaching out to touch Yuki's coat as if it were some kind of sacred garment.

"Um, excuse me," Yuki said, backing away slightly. "I think there's been a mistake. I'm just a pharmacist. From Tokyo. Who is probably having a mental breakdown right now."

The elderly woman took Yuki's hand in her weathered ones. "Oh, my dear. There's no mistake. Look at your garments—white as snow, bearing strange symbols." She pointed to the pharmacy logo on Yuki's coat pocket. "And you carry the healer's mark! Just as the prophecy foretold: 'When the moon turns crystal blue, the Witch of Remedies shall return, dressed in snow-white robes bearing strange markings, to once again bring healing to our village.'"

"That's... oddly specific for a prophecy," Yuki muttered.

"My name is Hazel, dear," the woman continued, patting Yuki's hand. "I'm the village elder. We've been waiting for your return for nearly fifty years, ever since Old Milda passed into the beyond."

"Fifty years? I wasn't even born fifty years ago."

Hazel just smiled knowingly. "Magic works in mysterious ways. Come! We must take you to your shop immediately. It's been kept ready for your return all this time."

Before Yuki could protest further, she was being swept along by the excited crowd through the village. Children ran alongside her, giggling and whispering. Men and women bowed as she passed. Someone threw flower petals.

"This is the most elaborate hallucination ever," Yuki said to herself. "I should really cut back on the energy drinks."

Eventually, they stopped in front of a small stone building with a thatched roof. Ivy crawled up its walls, and hanging above the door was a faded wooden sign with a painted mortar and pestle. The windows were dusty but intact, and the door was secured with a heavy iron lock.

Hazel produced a large, ornate key from her pocket. "Old Milda left instructions that this key was to be handed down through the village elders until the day of your return."

She unlocked the door, which creaked open dramatically.

"Welcome home, Witch of Remedies," Hazel said, gesturing for Yuki to enter.

With no better options, Yuki stepped inside.

The interior was dim, sunlight filtering through the dusty windows in narrow beams that illuminated dancing dust motes. But as her eyes adjusted, Yuki gasped despite herself.

The shop was beautiful. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of dried herbs, powders, and liquids of every color. A massive wooden counter took up one side of the room, its surface marked with old stains and burn marks. Behind it stood rows of small drawers, each labeled in an elegant script Yuki surprisingly found she could read.

In the center of the room sat a large copper cauldron on a stone hearth, cold now but clearly the focal point of the space. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling beams, and strange instruments—mortars, scales, bizarre contraptions she couldn't identify—sat on every available surface.

It was like walking into the most elaborate apothecary she could imagine.

"This is... incredible," Yuki admitted, running her fingers along the counter.

"It's been maintained as best we could," Hazel said proudly. "Though none of us knows how to brew the potions properly. We've been waiting for you to return and restore health to our village."

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Yuki turned to the old woman. "Look, I appreciate all this, but I think there's been a serious misunderstanding. I'm not a witch. I'm a pharmacist. I dispense medications that are manufactured in labs, not... whatever all this is."

Hazel's smile didn't waver. "Of course, of course. The prophecy mentioned you might be... confused at first. Your memories may take time to return. But your hands will remember the craft, even if your mind does not."

"No, that's not—"

"Now," Hazel continued, "I'll leave you to get settled. There's a living space upstairs—bedroom, small kitchen, washroom. Everything you should need. The village will bring you supplies tomorrow. Rest tonight, and tomorrow you can begin seeing patients again."

"Patients? I can't—"

"Oh!" Hazel clapped her hands. "I almost forgot the most important thing!" She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small leather-bound book. "Old Milda's recipe book. Her most treasured possession. She said it was to be given to you upon your return."

Yuki reluctantly accepted the book. It was surprisingly heavy, the leather cover worn smooth from years of handling. When she opened it, pages of handwritten recipes and notes greeted her, along with detailed illustrations of plants and minerals she'd never seen before.

"Thank you," she said automatically, her pharmacist's training kicking in despite the absurdity of the situation.

"I'll leave you to rest, dear. The journey between realms must be exhausting." Hazel moved toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and don't mind Milda if she gets chatty. She's been waiting a long time to meet you."

"Wait, Milda? I thought you said she died."

Hazel just smiled enigmatically. "Good night, Witch. Welcome home."

With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Yuki stood in the middle of the shop, the recipe book clutched in her hands, feeling completely and utterly lost.

"This isn't happening," she said aloud. "I'm going to wake up on my bathroom floor any minute now."

"Oh, trust me, dearie, you're not dreaming," said a creaky voice from behind her.

Yuki whirled around with a yelp.

Floating a few feet away was the semi-transparent figure of an elderly woman. She wore a long dress and apron similar to Hazel's, but of a distinctly older style. Her hair was pulled into a severe bun, and she peered at Yuki through spectacles that seemed to be part of her ghostly form.

"What the—" Yuki stumbled backward, knocking into the counter.

"Language, young lady!" the ghost admonished. "Is that any way for the Witch of Remedies to speak? In my day, we maintained dignity at all times."

Yuki's mouth opened and closed several times before she managed, "You're a ghost."

"Very observant," the apparition said dryly. "I am—or was—Milda Thornberry, the previous Witch of Remedies. And you, I suppose, are my replacement." She floated closer, examining Yuki with a critical eye. "Hmph. You're a bit scrawny. And what in the world are you wearing? Where's your proper witch's attire?"

"I'm not—" Yuki began, then stopped herself. She took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm talking to a ghost. In a medieval fantasy village. After falling through my bathroom floor. Sure. Why not?"

"Are you quite finished?" Milda asked, crossing her transparent arms.

"Not really, but let's move on anyway." Yuki sank onto a nearby stool. "So you're the previous... witch? And now everyone thinks I'm your replacement?"

"The prophecy was quite clear," Milda sniffed. "Though I'll admit, I expected someone a bit more... impressive."

"Join the club," Yuki muttered. "Look, I don't know what's happening, but I'm not a witch. I'm a pharmacist—a medical professional from another world. I don't know magic, I don't brew potions, and I definitely don't talk to ghosts on a regular basis."

Milda waved a dismissive hand. "Details, details. Pharmacist, witch—what's the difference? You mix substances to heal people, yes?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then you'll do fine." Milda drifted over to the cauldron. "This place has been gathering dust for far too long. It's about time someone took over. The villagers need their remedies."

Yuki ran a hand through her short hair in frustration. "But I don't know how to make your kind of remedies! I work with manufactured medicines, precise dosages, controlled substances. Not... whatever it is you do here."

Milda pointed to the book in Yuki's hands. "That's why I left you my recipe book, you silly girl. Everything you need to know is in there. Well, the basics, anyway."

Yuki looked down at the book, then back at the ghost. "Why me? Why was I brought here?"

For the first time, Milda's haughty expression softened slightly. "That, my dear, is the question, isn't it? Magic works in mysterious ways. But I can tell you this—no one comes to Moonflower Hollow by accident."

Before Yuki could question further, there was a loud crash from upstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

"What was that?" she asked, alarmed.

Milda rolled her ghostly eyes. "That would be your familiar. Dreadful creature. No manners whatsoever."

"My what?"

Another crash, louder this time.

"You'd better go see what he's destroyed now," Milda sighed. "Stairs are through that door. I'll be here... I'm always here." The last part was said with a melancholy that made Yuki pause.

But another crash from upstairs spurred her into action. She hurried through the door Milda had indicated and up a narrow staircase.

The upstairs was a small but cozy living space. A bed with a patchwork quilt sat in one corner, a tiny kitchenette in another. A door presumably led to a washroom, and a small sitting area with two worn armchairs faced a stone fireplace.

It was also a complete disaster. Books scattered across the floor, a vase in pieces, and what looked like the remains of a pottery jar spilling some kind of grain all over the rug.

In the middle of the chaos sat the largest wolf Yuki had ever seen.

At least, she thought it was a wolf. It had the general shape of one—four legs, pointed ears, bushy tail—but its fur was a deep, unnatural blue-black that seemed to shimmer with starlight when it moved. And it was enormous, the size of a small pony.

As she stared, frozen in the doorway, the wolf looked up from where it had been snuffling through the spilled grain. Its eyes were a startling gold, with vertical pupils like a cat's.

"About time you showed up," it said in a deep, bored-sounding male voice. "This place is a disaster. And there's no decent food anywhere."

Yuki blinked once, twice. "You can talk."

"Obviously." The wolf yawned, displaying an impressive set of fangs. "I'm Fenrir, your familiar. And you're late. I've been waiting for days."

"Late for... what, exactly?"

"For taking over the shop." Fenrir stretched lazily, then padded over to one of the armchairs and jumped onto it, circling three times before settling down. "I've been stuck with that nagging ghost for far too long. Do you know she doesn't even eat? How am I supposed to steal snacks from someone who doesn't eat?"

Yuki pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a headache coming on. "So you're my... familiar? Like, a magical animal companion?"

"I prefer the term 'mystical entity who has graciously chosen to associate with you,'" Fenrir said, licking one paw. "But yes, essentially. I'm bound to the position of the Witch of Remedies. Old Milda and I had an arrangement. I help with magic stuff, she feeds me. Simple."

"But I don't know any magic," Yuki protested.

Fenrir fixed her with a golden stare. "You will."

"And if I don't want to be the Witch of Remedies?"

The wolf shrugged, a strangely human gesture on his canine form. "Too bad. You're here now. The shop chose you."

"The shop... chose me?"

"How else do you think you got here? Magic shops have personalities. This one's been looking for a new witch since Milda died. It reached out across the worlds and yanked you in." Fenrir yawned again. "Now, about dinner. I'm thinking roast chicken. Or maybe venison. I'm not picky, as long as there's meat."

Yuki sank onto the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. The events of the day—or was it days?—had finally caught up with her. "This is insane."

"Probably," Fenrir agreed cheerfully. "But it's your insanity now. So... dinner?"

She looked at the wolf, the destroyed room, and the recipe book still clutched in her hands. Through the window, she could see the village of Moonflower Hollow bathed in the golden light of sunset, peaceful and picturesque.

For the first time in years, Yuki felt something other than exhaustion and burnout. Was it... curiosity? Whatever this place was—hallucination, alternate world, bizarre dream—it was certainly more interesting than another twelve-hour shift dealing with entitled customers and insurance companies.

"Fine," she said finally. "I'll see what I can find in the kitchen. But you're cleaning up this mess."

Fenrir snorted. "I'm a mystical wolf entity, not a maid."

"No cleanup, no dinner."

The wolf narrowed his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain, human." He paused, then added, "I think we're going to get along just fine."

As Yuki rummaged through the small kitchen, she couldn't help but wonder what she'd gotten herself into. A magical village, a potion shop, a ghost mentor, and a talking wolf who acted like a spoiled house cat.

Maybe she really had lost her mind. Or maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what she needed—a new prescription for her life.

Either way, it seemed the Witch of Remedies was back in business.