Ethan stirred the cauldron with slow, precise movements, watching the potion swirl into a rich indigo hue. He sighed softly.

  “Potion Crafting… this is pretty much a cooking css,” he muttered to himself.

  He gnced at the hourgss beside him—almost empty. With practiced ease, he flipped it over and added a measured pinch of fairy dust into the mixture. A soft shimmer bloomed across the surface of the brew.

  The css had started thirty minutes ago, and the elderly professor hadn’t wasted a single moment. Their task: to brew a Lesser Mana Potion. A basic concoction, used to mildly enhance mana regeneration. Basic—but far from cheap. The ingredients alone cost nearly 200 silver coins, and once the brewing time, failure rate, and refining were factored in, each finished vial sold for a full gold coin.

  Ethan kept a steady rhythm. Flip the hourgss. Stir. Wait. The moment the second turn passed, he prepped the distiltion tools, carefully siphoned the contents, and filled a single vial with the result.

  “Professor, I’m done,” he called, presenting the potion box.

  The old man took the vial, swirled it, sniffed it, then peered at the liquid through the light.

  “Color’s good. Smell is… passable. Hmm… overcooked it just a bit, stopped stirring for a few seconds, didn’t you?”

  Ethan winced. “I might’ve paused for a breath, sir.”

  “Hmph. Won’t ruin the potion, just makes it a bit bitter. Eight points. Name?”

  “Ethan Cross.”

  “Right. Ethan. Eight points recorded. Dismissed.”

  “Sir, can I help my friends?”

  “You won’t get extra points.”

  “That’s fine. I just want to help them.”

  “Do it quietly. If I hear chatting, you’re out.”

  “Understood.”

  Ethan turned to see Oliver working through his final steps—almost done. But beside him…

  “Hey Ethan! You’re here! Please save me!” Daniel waved frantically, his cauldron emitting a dark, ominous smoke.

  “Remember our deal? 100 silver coins. Up front.”

  “Fine! Fine! You mercenary! Here—just help me!”

  Ethan pocketed the coins and leaned over Daniel’s cauldron. “…Why is this bck?”

  “What? Isn’t it supposed to be bck?”

  “…Have you been stirring?”

  “Uhhh. I did like, four or five circles. Isn’t that enough?”

  “…Throw it out.”

  “What!?”

  “It’s ruined. Dump it.”

  “Nooo! I’m four steps away!”

  “Then four steps away from failure. If you want me to prep the ingredients again, that’ll be another 100 silver.”

  Daniel gred. “Do I look like a wallet to you!?”

  Ethan smirked inwardly. Right now you do. A very fat one.

  “I’m not working for free,” Ethan said aloud. “That first 100 was for guidance. This is a full restart.”

  “Gaaah! Fine! Take your damn silver!”

  “Much obliged.” Ethan gave a mock bow and got to work, sorting through the ingredients. “Let’s see… Mandragora root… a small mana crystal… fairy powder…”

  He worked quickly, boiling, grinding, aligning every piece in perfect sequence, then slid them across the table.

  “Your ingredients, young master. You may proceed with washing the cauldron.”

  Daniel blinked. “I have to wash it!?”

  “Would you rather brew a potion over that mess?”

  “But this bck stuff is stuck! Can’t I just use another one?”

  Ethan stared at him. “Daniel. It’s gonna take you an hour to brew. Do you want to be here all night?”

  Grumbling, Daniel picked up the scorched cauldron and trudged toward the sink like a man marching to execution.

  Watching him go, Ethan sighed. Should’ve charged 200 from the start.

  Still, he couldn’t deny—potion crafting? For him, this could become a very lucrative business.

  But there were a few problems.

  First, the cost of the ingredients. Even the cheapest ones still demanded a couple of silver coins apiece, and that wasn’t something his wallet could handle on a daily basis.

  Second, the equipment. Ethan couldn’t exactly use the school’s alchemy tools for personal use—at least, not without getting in serious trouble.

  Third, the recipes. Right now, he only knew how to craft the lesser mana potion. And considering everyone learned that recipe, the market had to be flooded with them. Making money off it would be a race to the bottom.

  Hmmm… Ethan frowned, stirring absently. Come to think of it, a few of my clients are part-time alchemists themselves. Maybe I could ask them for some advice…?

  Then again, wouldn’t that be a bit rude? He wasn’t exactly close with them. Maybe if he phrased it right…?

  His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout.

  “I finished it!” Oliver excimed, proudly holding up a crystal-clear vial of pale-blue liquid.

  “Professor! Professor! I’m done!”

  The old man walked over, his expression as unreadable as ever. He took the vial, held it to the light, sniffed the contents, and swirled it gently.

  “…Well done,” the professor finally said. “Perfect score. Your name?”

  “Oliver,” he answered with a smile.

  “Very well, Oliver. You’re dismissed. But—” he added, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “since you achieved a perfect result, I can offer you a chance to try another recipe, if you're up for the challenge.”

  Oliver blinked. “Hmm, I’m tired. I think I’ll p—”

  “—accept it,” Ethan said, cutting him off mid-sentence by cmping a hand over his mouth.

  “Are you crazy!?” he hissed. “He’s offering you a free recipe! Take it!”

  Oliver pried his mouth free, coughing. “Ethan, have you forgotten who I am!?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m a scion of the Greaves Merchant Guild! Our family brews and distributes potions by the cartload! I can get as many recipes as I want. For free!”

  “Oh…” Ethan blinked. “Right. My bad.”

  Oliver turned back to the professor, straightening his coat. “So, as I was saying, I’ll pass.”

  “Very well,” the professor replied. “The choice is yours. Then you’re dismissed.”

  “Bye, Ethan. Good luck with Daniel.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  Right on cue, Daniel arrived from the sink, holding a now-gleaming cauldron. “Okay! It’s spotless!”

  Ethan cpped his hands together. “Perfect! Now let’s try again—and this time, do not let it turn into a bubbling tar pit.”

  Daniel groaned. “You’ll never let that go, will you?”

  “Nope. Now grab the Mandragora root. We’re starting from scratch.”

  Ethan had always believed that people being bad at cooking—or potion-making, in this case—was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, maybe not everyone was a natural, but as long as you had a recipe, there was nothing to worry, right?

  Apparently not.

  Because standing over Daniel’s fourth attempt at a simple lesser mana potion, Ethan was beginning to question the ws of alchemy, common sense, and maybe even reality itself.

  The first try? Daniel forgot to stir. The potion boiled unevenly, burning everything in the bottom of the caudron. Fail.

  The second? He swapped the order of two ingredients, causing a violent reaction that left the cauldron hissing and Ethan covered in a fine spray of burnt essence.

  The third time was the most mystifying. Ethan had watched every step like a hawk, and yet, when it came time to pour the finished mixture, it had turned a deep violet and began to emit smoke… from the vial.

  Even the professor had paused to examine it. “Interesting,” he’d murmured, “never drink this. This is poison.”

  Now, here they were on attempt number four, and Ethan had taken no chances. He’d double-checked every ingredient, pre-measured everything, and even lined the steps on the table with numbered notes. The only thing he wasn’t allowed to do, by the professor’s strict rules, was stir the cauldron himself.

  That had to be Daniel’s job.

  “Okay, man,” Ethan said with a tight breath, “we’re down to the st two steps. You just need to add the fairy powder… carefully, and then stir until I say stop. Got it?”

  “Fairy powder, right?” he asked, already reaching for the wrong vial.

  “No!” Ethan swatted his hand like a fly. “That’s powdered moon root, you lunatic! The fairy powder is the pale blue one with silver flecks!”

  “Oh… right, right.” Daniel corrected, carefully switching vials. “Okay, adding it… now.”

  He tapped the powder into the cauldron with the delicacy of a baker sprinkling sugar. The mixture bubbled gently, the previously clear-blue liquid darkening ever so slightly—a normal reaction, thank the gods.

  “Now, just keep stirring,” Ethan instructed, watching every motion like a hawk. “Clockwise, slow and steady. Don’t stop. Don’t change directions. Don’t talk. Just stir.”

  Daniel nodded solemnly, sweat beading on his forehead. One hourgss. Another hourgss. Then—

  “Okay! Time to distill!” Ethan said, almost too excitedly.

  Daniel scrambled to set the distiltion apparatus in pce, knocking over a dle in the process but managing not to ruin anything critical.

  They poured the mixture through the funnel, watching as the liquid filtered and dripped into the gss vial below. Ethan held his breath.

  When the vial was finally filled and sealed, Ethan took it with reverent care. “Professor!”

  The old man approached, adjusted his gsses, and accepted the vial. He swirled it, sniffed it, tilted it under the light—

  And sighed.

  “Well… at least this one won’t kill anyone.” He marked something on his clipboard. “Daniel, right? Six points. Passable.”

  Daniel colpsed into the nearest chair like a soldier after battle. “Yes! Finally!”

  Ethan let out a long, tired sigh. “I don’t even want to look at another cauldron for a week…”

  “And I’m never touching fairy powder again,” Daniel muttered. “Those sparkles haunt my dreams.”

  Ethan rubbed his temples, wondering how in the world someone could be so talented at failure. Four tries. Four. He now believed those exaggerated stories from books were not only real—they were understatements.

  “Congratutions,” Ethan said dryly. “You’ve officially earned the title of Alchemist’s Bane.”

  Daniel grinned like it was a compliment. “At least that sounds cool, right?”

  Ethan groaned and muttered, “Next time I’m charging triple.”

  Ethan was packing up his things, ready to head back to the dorm, when he noticed they weren’t the st ones in the cssroom.

  “Eh? Isn’t that Eliza Frost?” he asked, squinting toward the corner of the room. “Don’t tell me she shares your alchemic talent for poison-making…”

  Daniel followed his gaze and let out a low whistle. “Oh, you’re right! That’s her. Weird… she’s always the first to finish everything. How’s she still here?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Ethan muttered, watching her with mild curiosity as she carefully stared into a vial of what could generously be called “suspicious sludge.”

  Daniel turned to him with a sly grin. “Hey, mercenary. Why don’t you go offer your services? If you managed to make me an alchemist—barely—I bet helping her would be a walk in the park. And if she really is struggling, she definitely won’t mind paying.”

  “I don’t know, man,” Ethan replied with hesitation. “I’m pretty sure she hates my guts.”

  “More than she hates low grades? I doubt it. And if she refuses, it’s not like you lose anything, right?”

  Ethan paused, considering the logic. “…That’s actually not a bad point.”

  Daniel gave him a pyful shove. “Go on, get out there. Looks like you’ve got one more job today.”

  “You go ahead without me,” Ethan said, adjusting his coat. “Looks like I’m still on the clock.”

  Daniel smirked as he headed for the door. “Go get her, tiger. Just don’t let Misha find out!”

  “Fuck off,” Ethan groaned, but couldn’t suppress a small smile.

  “Later!” Daniel called back.

  “Yeah, yeah. Later.”

  With that, Ethan turned back to face Eliza, mentally preparing himself for the diplomatic nightmare that was about to unfold.

  Ethan approached Eliza’s workbench carefully, like a man stepping into a lion’s den.

  She didn’t acknowledge him. Not with a gnce, not with a word—just kept gring into her bubbling cauldron like it had personally insulted her family.

  “Hey,” he started casually. “Need a hand?”

  No response.

  “I mean, I’m offering a professional consultation here. Special discount for cssmates.”

  Still nothing.

  Ethan leaned in a bit. “You know you only have enough ingredients left for one more shot, right?”

  Eliza’s hand froze mid-stir. Her eyes narrowed, and she gritted her teeth so hard he could almost hear it.

  She turned toward him, her voice low and tight. “Fine. If you’re so sure of yourself, let’s make a bet.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “If you figure out what’s wrong with my brewing,” she said slowly, “I’ll give you what you want. But if you don't...”

  “If I don’t?”

  “You’ll have to obey one order from me”

  Ethan stared at her for a second, then shrugged with a smirk. “Deal.”

  He looked over her setup, circling like a curious wolf. “So? What’s been happening?”

  “I followed the recipe to the letter,” she muttered. “Every. Single. Time. Still it always ends up like coal. Bck, useless garbage. I’m trying to tweak the hourgsses now, but it’s making the ingredients undercook.”

  Ethan hummed thoughtfully, checking the runes on the cauldron stand. “Something’s definitely off with the heating process, but before jumping to conclusions, let’s test it properly.”

  She snapped. “I checked the stove runes myself. They’re fine.”

  “Just humor me.” He gestured to his own setup. “We fill both cauldrons with the same amount of water. Fire them up at the same time. If yours boils faster, we’ve got a culprit. Then we swap and test again to confirm.”

  Eliza crossed her arms, clearly skeptical. “That’s a waste of time...”

  "We're already te anyway."

  A tense pause. Then, with a huff, she nodded.

  They set up the test. Equal amounts of water. Identical hourgsses. Two stoves lit in unison.

  Before half an hourgss had passed, Eliza’s cauldron was already boiling.

  Ethan’s hadn’t even started to simmer.

  “Swap them,” he said simply.

  They drained the pots, refilled with fresh water, and started again.

  This time, Eliza’s water boiled slowly—right on time. Ethan’s new pot boiled too quickly.

  He gnced over with a smirk. “So it wasn’t the stove. It was the cauldron itself. Probably has a thin base or a defect in the yering. Heats way too fast.”

  Eliza’s jaw clenched, her eyes burning holes into the cauldron like she wanted to melt it with sheer rage.

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she stepped toward Ethan, stopping just a breath away.

  “…I lost,” she admitted, her voice so low it was nearly a growl.

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, with a heavy breath, Eliza stepped toward Ethan, stopping just a breath away. Her eyes were sharp, focused on him with something unreadable.

  Before Ethan could figure out what was happening, she leaned in slightly. Instinctively, he raised a hand between them.

  She blinked, taken aback. "What are you doing?"

  "I should be the one asking that," Ethan replied, still keeping a polite distance. "You came at me out of nowhere."

  Eliza crossed her arms, clearly irritated. “Wasn't this what you wanted? Aren't you the kind of guy who takes advantage of girls, trading help for favors... Those kinds of favors...”

  Ethan's face went bnk with disbelief. “What!? That’s ridiculous!”

  “I was in the cssroom, remember? I heard what Misha said. And I saw how flustered she was.”

  He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “That's a misunderstanding. I admit our retion is close but we are not like that! Yeah, I’ve been helping Misha with her mana circution training—but that’s it. No schemes, no tricks, and, absolutely, no favors. If you don’t believe me, ask her friends, or better yet, ask Misha herself!”

  Eliza narrowed her eyes for a moment, then slowly backed off. A deep shade of red colored her cheeks.

  “…I see,” she muttered. “I misunderstood. Sorry.”

  Ethan shrugged with a half-smile. “No hard feelings.”

  “So… what do you want in return?” she asked after a pause, trying to sound firm again. “For helping me, I mean.”

  He gave her a look that clearly said, isn’t it obvious?

  “100 silver coins, of course.”

  Eliza’s expression stiffened. The red on her face deepened. She opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated.

  “…Is something wrong?” Ethan asked, frowning.

  Eliza looked to the side, clearly embarrassed. “…I'm broke.”

  “…Should I charge interest?” Ethan joked with a grin.

  “Don’t push it,” she muttered, covering her face with one hand.

  “Well… it’s my fault for not announcing it from the very beginning,” Ethan said with a sigh.

  Eliza’s posture straightened immediately. “I’m extremely sorry. I’ll pay it back eventually, I promise!”

  “No, it’s fine.” He waved it off. “Consider it a free sample or something.”

  She raised an eyebrow, a sly smile forming. “A free sample, huh? Fine. Then here’s my free sample in return.”

  Before he could react, she leaned in and gave him a quick, pyful peck on the cheek.

  “Hey! I said I don’t—!”

  “I know,” she interrupted, smugly turning back to her cauldron. “But that’s your loss.”

  Ethan stood there blinking in disbelief.

  “Now give me some space,” Eliza added, tying her hair back. “I have to finish brewing this potion.”

  Around an hour ter, the soft bubbling of Eliza’s cauldron came to an end. She turned off the heat, carefully poured the distilled potion into a vial, and sealed it with a cork.

  “Done!” she exhaled, her voice carrying both triumph and relief. “Finally!”

  The professor, who had been watching from a distance, walked over with slow, measured steps. He picked up the vial, held it to the light, gave it a gentle swirl, and then sniffed the contents.

  “Color, crity, scent… All correct. Well done. Perfect score.”

  Eliza’s eyes lit up with satisfaction.

  “But,” the professor added, gncing out the window at the fading light, “it’s quite te. No new recipes today. You’re both dismissed.”

  “Professor,” Ethan interjected before they left. “About the cauldron—Eliza’s equipment. It was overheating.”

  “Hmm?” The professor turned his tired eyes to Ethan.

  “We ran a heat test. Her cauldron was boiling twice as fast, even with matching fmes.”

  “I see. I’ll investigate.” He waved them off.

  With a small nod, Ethan and Eliza exited the b together. The campus was quieter now, dusk settling in, casting long shadows on the cobbled path.

  They reached the point where the path forked toward their respective dormitories.

  Eliza slowed her pace, then turned to him, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. “Thank you again. You’re… a lot better than I imagined.”

  Ethan smiled lightly. “Gd the misunderstanding’s cleared up. If you need more help, you know who to call.”

  She gave him a dry look. “Thank you, sir, but I’m seriously, completely broke.”

  “About that—can’t you make some coins doing the tasks on the dormitory board?”

  “I’m trying,” she sighed. “But most of them involve going all the way to the forest to fetch herbs. It takes forever…”

  “What!? No, no, no! You don’t have to do that!” Ethan waved his hands in disbelief. “It’s perfectly fine to just buy the herbs in the market and deliver them. Sure, you’ll spend a few coins, but in the long run it’s way more efficient.”

  Eliza blinked. “Eh? We can do that? I thought only freshly picked herbs counted!”

  “Now you know.” Ethan gave her a conspiratorial grin and a wink. “But don’t spread it around. That’s a secret between the two of us.”

  She looked down, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “Sure. It’s not like I have any friends here to share it with, anyway…”

  Ethan tilted his head. “Then you should smile more often. You’ve got a pretty face. Add a smile, and even girls wouldn’t be able to resist your charm.”

  Eliza froze.

  “…”

  “…What? No words? Was it super effective?” he teased, grinning as he casually stepped out of her punching range.

  “Hahaha. That’s all for tonight. Sleep well, Eliza.”

  She didn’t answer right away—just stood there, her face half-turned, lips fighting not to curve further.

  “…Good night, Ethan.”