It began, as these things often did in Luminvale, with something completely normal going incredibly sideways.
Milo had only meant to clean the back shelf. That's it. Nothing fancy. No spellcasting, no unsealing ancient herbs, no daring experiments. Just a simple afternoon of tidying dusty bottles, most of which hadn't been touched since the shop's walls were beige and his grandma was still around to scold people for sneezing near her inventory.
But somewhere between knocking over a jar of candied ginseng and sneezing directly into a vial labeled "DO NOT COMBINE WITH SUGAR," Milo made a mistake.
A sweet-smelling, heart-shaped, pink-sparkle-tinted mistake.
"I don't like how romantic this potion looks," he muttered, backing away slowly.
On the counter, the mystery mixture shimmered. It gave off tiny glittery puffs with every bubble, each one floating up like a flirty sigh.
Luca peered in from the doorway, biting into an apple. "Whoa. That smells like someone just got kissed by a fruit basket."
"I didn't mean to make anything romantic," Milo said, grabbing his notes. "I was organizing! And then I sneezed, and now I have this... this flirt juice."
Luca wiggled his eyebrows. "You accidentally made a love potion?"
Milo turned pale. "Don't even joke. Love potions are illegal in at least nine kingdoms and one very angry knitting guild."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "Why the knitting guild?"
Milo waved him off. "Long story. Involves enchanted yarn and a disastrous speed-dating event."
They stared at the potion.
It continued to sparkle, now humming a faint melody suspiciously similar to a romantic lute ballad.
"This is bad," Milo said.
"Is it, though?" Luca grinned. "What if it's just a really affectionate tea?"
"It's not tea!" Milo snapped, pacing. "It's... something. I don't even know what I mixed anymore. There was sugarroot, whisperleaf, and something I thought was rose petal but might've been cinnamon lily—"
"That sounds... edible," Luca offered unhelpfully.
"'Edible' isn't a potion category, Luca!"
Just then, the door burst open with perfectly dramatic timing, as if the universe heard the word "romance" and decided, Yes. Let's add chaos.
In strutted Maribel, the town's self-declared heartthrob and fashion icon, wearing her usual impossibly frilly skirt, four scarves (in spring), and enough perfume to stun a mid-sized deer.
"Darling Milo!" she trilled. "I need something utterly enchanting! I'm going on a stroll with that handsome traveler—what's-his-face, the one with the cheekbones—and I must dazzle!"
Milo blinked. "Are... you asking for a potion?"
Maribel leaned on the counter, batting her eyelashes with such intensity that Luca gagged in the background.
"Something subtle," she purred. "A touch of mystery. A dash of allure. A scent that whispers, 'Yes, I do know where the best strawberries grow.'"
Milo's brain, still frazzled from the sparkle incident, short-circuited.
He looked down.
At the glittering, heart-shaped potion.
"...uh," he said.
Maribel gasped. "Is that it?"
"No!" Milo yelped.
"Yes!" Luca said at the same time.
"Maybe!" Milo amended, panicking. "Look, it's not... tested. At all. It might be love. Or it might make you hiccup flowers. I'm really not sure."
Maribel beamed. "Perfect."
Before he could stop her, she grabbed the bottle, winked, and flounced out the door in a hurricane of floral scent and determination.
Milo stared after her.
Luca clapped him on the shoulder. "Well. That's probably fine."
It was not fine.
Ten minutes later, chaos erupted in the town square.
Not disaster chaos. Not "burning building" chaos.
Flirt chaos.
Maribel had sipped the potion. And now, she was glowing—literally glowing—and radiating charm like a broken flirt machine set to maximum swoon. Every passerby within a ten-meter radius started acting weird.
Old Farmer Tibbins, who hadn't smiled in sixty years, was suddenly offering her handpicked daisies.
Two rival bakers temporarily called a truce just to deliver her heart-shaped pastries.
Even the town's usually aloof cat, Cotton Whiskers (honorary title), was trailing after her like a fluffy love-struck bodyguard.
Milo and Luca arrived at the edge of the square to witness the full effect.
"Oh no," Milo whispered. "I weaponized attraction."
Maribel, meanwhile, was twirling with flower petals swirling around her like she was auditioning for a romantic musical. "Darling citizens!" she called. "Do not worry! I am used to this level of affection!"
"Make it stop," Milo hissed.
Luca snorted. "She seems fine. Popular, even."
"That's not the point!" Milo snapped. "That potion is unstable! I don't know how long it lasts, or what happens when it wears off! What if it... I don't know... backfires?!"
As if on cue, Maribel paused mid-stride, blinked... and sneezed.
With that single sneeze, the sparkles around her exploded into a massive glitter cloud that covered the square. Everyone paused. Blinking. Coughing. A few sneezed back.
Then it happened.
A synchronized, collective "Ohhh noooo" from the crowd.
Suddenly, the flirt energy... reversed.
Farmer Tibbins blushed and ran off into the fountain.
One of the bakers declared undying love for his rival's sourdough and then immediately recanted.
Cotton Whiskers hissed and leapt onto a rooftop.
Maribel staggered back, dazed, her glow fading. "I... don't think I like strawberries anymore..."
Milo rushed forward. "Okay! Okay, it's fine! I have a neutralizing potion! Probably!"
He fumbled through his satchel, pulled out a bottle labeled "Emergency Mood Stabilizer – May Cause Yawning," and handed it to her.
She drank it. Burped. Blinked.
And then said, "Ugh. Why does everything smell like glitter and regret?"
Milo exhaled. "It's over."
Back at the shop, the mood was... tense.
Maribel sat on a stool, arms crossed, pouting only slightly. "I'm not mad. Just mildly inconvenienced."
Milo paced. "I'm really sorry. That potion wasn't meant to be used. It was a total accident."
"It did make me feel fabulous," she admitted. "Even if Farmer Tibbins tried to propose to my elbow."
Luca leaned against the counter, munching popcorn. "This was the most entertaining afternoon I've had since the goat mayor incident."
Milo groaned. "From now on, no sparkles. Nothing pink. And all unknown potions get locked away."
Alma peeked in. "Does this mean I can't try the purple one with the hearts?"
"Especially that one!" Milo snapped.
Maribel stood, brushing herself off. "Well, I suppose I'll forgive you—this time. But next time, please label your accidental love potions clearly. Preferably with warning signs. And maybe a small song."
Milo nodded wearily. "I'll compose a ballad."
She winked. "Good boy."
And with that, she flounced out once more—less sparkly, but no less dramatic.
Luca nudged Milo. "So... you gonna name it?"
Milo blinked. "Name what?"
"The potion! It was chaotic, romantic, dangerous... I suggest: Heartstopper Deluxe."
"I was thinking more like Nope Juice."
Luca laughed. "You're hopeless."
Milo sighed, collapsing into his nap chair.
One thing was for certain: potion-making in Luminvale was never boring.
And neither, apparently, was love.