A deep sigh. What would Maomao's teacher think, her using her skills for something like this? An apothecary's job was to make medicines, not poisons. But she was in Musse's employ. And, more to the point, the Empire deserved what was coming.

"How comfortable, my Lady?" Comfort was quite a wide range, after all. A drunk was comfortable. A sleeper was comfortable. And, well, one could presume that somebody sleeping and to never wake up again was, likewise, also comfortable.