As noon rolled in, the Memory game wound down and the group began to disperse. Eliza stood first, brushing off her skirt and muttering something about wasted time—though she didn’t look particurly upset. Misha hesitated a little before following Anya and Celica, who were already chatting about what to grab for lunch. Ethan gave a casual wave as the girls headed off in their own directions.

  Left alone at the table, he leaned forward and began gathering the wooden game pieces into the cloth pouch he’d brought. The game had worked better than expected—especially as a study tool. And now that it had proven useful, he had pns to make it even better.

  He turned one of the tiles in his hand, running his thumb over the rune etched into the surface. So far, the set only covered the mana meanings they were learning in Spellcasting Theory, but if he added the Miasma meanings he’d learned from Lilith…

  Ethan grinned to himself.

  He would just write them in English—the nguage from his past life, which no one else in this world could read. That way, even if someone saw the pieces, they’d have no clue what the second set of words meant. To everyone else, they’d just look like odd markings, or a strange decorative flourish. But for him, it would be a way to remember both meanings without risking exposure.

  Tying off the pouch and slipping it into his bag, Ethan stood and stretched. His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that the next css—Potion Crafting—was just a few hours away and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  Time to find Daniel and Oliver.

  And maybe see how many ridiculous stories Daniel had stacked up since the morning.

  The scent of roasted vegetables and baked bread filled the canteen as Ethan grabbed a tray and loaded it with a modest meal. His thoughts were still on the Memory game as he joined the lunch line, then made his way toward the usual corner where Daniel and Oliver were already seated.

  “Hey hey! Look who decided to bless us with his presence!” Daniel said, spotting him from across the room. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms with a big, smug grin. “Ethan Cross, local dies’ man!”

  “...What?” Ethan blinked, already regretting his life choices.

  “Oh, come on! Don’t ‘what’ me. We saw you earlier, surrounded by girls like some kind of prince holding court.”

  Oliver chuckled between bites. “It did look like that from a distance, to be fair.”

  Ethan groaned and set down his tray. “If you saw us, why didn't you say hi? We were just pying a memory game. You could have joined us any time!”

  Daniel smirked, unconvinced. “Ah yes, of course. A ‘memory game’... is that what they call it these days?”

  Ethan narrowed his eyes, choosing his words carefully. “Next time, I’ll invite both of you. You’ll see.”

  That got a ugh out of both of them.

  “I’m holding you to that,” Daniel said. “I’ve always wanted to be part of a reverse harem.”

  “Please shut up,” Ethan muttered as he started eating.

  With the teasing mostly out of the way, the conversation shifted, as it often did, to Daniel’s ongoing pursuit of romance. He recounted his test misadventures—approaching two second-years who turned out to be far less amused than he anticipated, barely escaping with his pride intact.

  “I think I’m cursed,” Daniel sighed dramatically. “Every girl I talk to either ignores me, gres at me, or threatens to turn me into a frog.”

  “Maybe you should take a hint?” Oliver offered with a grin.

  “Never,” Daniel decred with full bravado, pounding a fist to his chest like a hero in a cheap romance novel.

  Ethan chuckled. “You know, going straight for the honey pot isn’t always the best strategy.”

  Daniel gave him a confused look. “Huh?”

  “I mean,” Ethan continued, “just charging in with compliments and big grins might work on rare occasions, but most of the time it just puts people on guard. You should try a more indirect approach—ask them something interesting, offer help with something they care about. Say something that draws their attention to the subject, not just to you.”

  Daniel blinked, interest piqued. “Like what?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I’m not sure. Depends on the girl. But ideally, it should be something that ties the two of you together—shared interest, shared experience. Something you can build a conversation around, you know? A common thread. Then you can use that to get to know her better.”

  Daniel groaned and leaned back dramatically. “Ughhh… that sounds like so much brainwork. I just want to say, ‘Hey, you're cute, let's get lunch,’ and boom. Done.”

  Ethan smirked. “Well, if you find a girl like that, let me know. I’ll shake her hand for her saintlike patience.”

  Oliver snorted into his drink.

  Ethan, meanwhile, couldn’t help thinking that if dating apps existed in this world, Daniel would be their most devoted user. Swipe right, skip the subtlety. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—this fantasy realm had no such shortcuts. A smile tugged at the corners of Ethan’s lips but he quickly shook the thought away, stuffing it deep into the corner of his imagination.

  Once the trio finished their meals and cleared their trays, they made their way across the academy grounds toward the alchemy wing. The midday sun was bright and warm overhead, a welcome change from the academy’s chilly stone corridors.

  When they entered the cssroom, they spotted Eliza already seated in the very front row, nose buried deep in a thick alchemy text, her brow furrowed with concentration.

  Ethan offered a casual nod. “Hey, Eliza.”

  She didn’t look up, but gave a zy flick of her hand in the air—half wave, half dismissive shooing motion.

  Daniel snorted under his breath. “Cold.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t say that. That was practically a warm welcome compared to st week.”

  And it was true. Before the st Potion Crafting css, Eliza wouldn’t have even acknowledged anyone’s presence. Now she at least gestured—progress, in its own frosty way.

  They took their seats in the second row, the cssroom slowly filling with the chatter of arriving students. The moment the seats were nearly full the door opened and in came Professor Corbin, carrying a rge stack of scrolls in his arms.

  He set them down with a firm thud on the front desk and cpped his hands. “Listen up!”

  The room quieted almost instantly.

  “Today’s lesson will be more difficult than st week’s. Not only will you need to master your boiling technique, but you’ll also be learning how to use these.” He held up one of the scrolls from the stack.

  “This,” he continued, “is a basic extraction scroll. It’s designed to isote the essential element from your chosen ingredient. What we call… ‘essence.’ In alchemy, essence is just as fundamental as fire or water. If you came here thinking potion-making was glorified cooking, this is your wake-up call.”

  A few students ughed awkwardly. Ethan smirked. He had definitely thought that at first.

  “Most real recipes involve more than just chopping and stirring,” Corbin went on. “They’ll require magic, specialized tools, and precise timing. But this isn’t theory css, so let’s get to it. One scroll per person. Form a line, take your scroll, and get to work using the recipe I’ll write on the board.”

  And just like that, the lesson began.

  The professor hadn’t been exaggerating—this lesson was in a league of its own.

  Extracting essence might have sounded straightforward on paper, but in practice? It was anything but. The scrolls they’d been handed were inscribed with unfamiliar runes—ones they hadn’t even touched in theory css yet. That meant they were flying blind, relying on instinct and painstaking trial-and-error. And the scrolls weren’t exactly forgiving. Channel too little mana, and nothing happened. Channel too much, and the reagent—today, a delicate dried flower—disintegrated into ash.

  Ethan hunched over his desk, eyes narrowed in concentration. He pced the flower in the center of the scroll, exhaled slowly, and began guiding mana into the runes. He went with the most logical approach: equal distribution across all glyphs.

  The result? The runes flickered once, then faded. The flower shriveled into a dull heap of gray powder.

  He clenched his jaw. Another failure.

  He raised his hand to ask the professor for advice, but all he got in return was a familiar brush-off: “Just keep at it. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

  Not helpful.

  Clicking his tongue, Ethan tried again. He repeated the same process, only this time monitoring the mana levels more carefully. He was certain he was being precise—equal amounts, controlled flow. But when he checked a few seconds ter, the runes were off-bance. Some were overfilled. Others nearly drained.

  Mana was leaking. But where?

  He looked around. All around him, other students were wearing matching scowls of frustration. One failed attempt after another. Gray dust everywhere.

  Until—

  He blinked. Right next to him, of all people, Daniel sat proudly at his desk, the unmistakable gleam of yellow powder shimmering beside his scroll.

  “What…? How did you manage that?” Ethan asked, genuinely stunned.

  Daniel scratched his head and shrugged. “I just shoved in as much mana as I could and didn’t stop. Eventually, it worked.”

  “You brute-forced it?”

  “I guess? It felt right.”

  Ethan gawked for a second, then turned back to his scroll. That couldn’t be all there was to it… but maybe there was something in the raw volume of mana that mattered. Something about sustaining pressure until the scroll could calibrate itself.

  He looked back at the runes—the ones that always drained too fast.

  What if it wasn’t about feeding them equally? What if the trick was focusing only on those unstable runes—keeping them full—and letting the rest draw mana as needed?

  It was worth a try.

  He restarted the process, this time funneling mana directly into the problem runes, carefully maintaining a steady flow. He watched as the other glyphs began absorbing energy on their own, bancing themselves.

  Then the scroll pulsed.

  The flower at its center trembled, shimmered—

  —and turned into bright yellow powder with a soft poof.

  Ethan blinked. A grin broke across his face. “I did it!”

  He shot out of his chair, fist pumping the air.

  The css erupted. Students rushed to his desk, eyes wide, questions flying from every direction.

  “You actually made it work?!”

  “What did you do different?”

  “Tell us! Please!”

  Ethan leaned back in his seat, folding his arms behind his head with a satisfied smirk. He soaked in the attention, letting the suspense hang in the air for just a heartbeat longer.

  “I could expin it,” he said smoothly. Then he added, voice low and teasing, “But… not for free.”

  The crowd paused.

  A few ughed, others groaned.

  “You’re charging now?”

  Ethan just grinned wider. “Ten silver coins. I walk you through it step-by-step. Five gets you the general idea. Take it or leave it.”

  A few scoffed and backed away, but more than one student was already digging into their coin pouches.

  One girl stepped forward and spped down five silvers.

  “I want the general idea.”

  Ethan swept up the coins with a wink.

  “Smart investment. Gather around, everyone. Let’s begin.”

  And just like that, Ethan Cross became the hottest alchemist in css—not just because he cracked the scroll, but because he knew exactly how to sell it.

  Meanwhile, at the front of the room, the professor stood silently, arms crossed, watching the growing crowd around Ethan’s desk. His sharp eyes tracked the silver coins changing hands, the students gathering like moths to a fme, and the confident grin on Ethan’s face as he expined his method like a merchant selling magic beans.

  For a moment, he seemed ready to bark an order—his fingers twitched as if preparing to snap for silence.

  But then… he hesitated.

  The scene wasn’t disruptive. The scrolls weren’t being misused. And, to be fair, Ethan had succeeded through his own efforts—and was now helping others. Was it a bit opportunistic? Sure. But also practical. Creative. Even… entrepreneurial.

  The professor sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples.

  “…This generation is going to give me gray hair,” he muttered under his breath.

  In the end, he turned back to his notes, pretending not to notice the mini lecture happening at the back of the room.

  Let them figure it out their way, he decided. As long as no one set the room on fire, he’d let it slide.