15 Minsk Street, in the dank, cold kitchen.
Klein rummaged for his newly bought large iron pot, poured fresh water into it, and carefully scrubbed it several times.
Then, he dropped some matches into it and snapped his fingers.
The scarlet flames soared, and under his control, they quickly burned the remaining water droplets dry, without harming the surface of the pot.
This time, there were no ingredients such as pure water in the potion recipe, so Klein was even more careful than the previous two times. He wanted to ensure that everything was in good measure to prevent any problems.
