Wilkinson heard footsteps and turned around, a broad, unrestrained smile spreading across his deeply wrinkled old face.
Like an old craftsman who has just completed a work worthy of boasting for a lifetime, eager to show it off.
"Just in time." Wilkinson put down the dropper, even forgetting to return it to the stand, and instead placed it horizontally on the mouth of the beaker, beckoning to Duke, his movements carrying a child-like eagerness, "Just completed the final process, the timing for aging is just right, the finish is even more beautiful than I anticipated, come and see for yourself."
He turned and walked to the right side of the workbench, where at some unknown time a small display table covered with black velvet had appeared. Three rows of slender Crystal Potion Bottles were arranged on the table in sequence, each row containing a different number of bottles, reflecting three distinctly different gleams under the warm yellow light of the Magic Lamp.
