Knock, knock, knock!
The clear, rhythmic knocking echoed through the hallway.
In the past, this familiar sound always rang outside the warm, inviting door of Phyllis’ room.
But today, it tapped against a far more serious and document-cluttered office door.
“Come in.”
A weary voice drifted from within the office, sounding as though it had been crushed under the weight of endless paperwork.
Each syllable was soaked in the tired lament of a corporate drone barely holding on.
“Um… Sister Grace~”
Lorin called out sweetly, putting on her most harmless, innocent expression as she peeked inside.
“What do you want?!”
Grace instinctively crossed her arms over her most prideful asset—one that even the vampire royal family would envy—and eyed Lorin with suspicion.
Although she knew Lorin didn’t mean harm, that look and body language when the princess left last time had been all too telling.
This princess… she was definitely one of those.
Lorin strolled forward with a light step and leaned in slightly.
Her voice softened, coaxing, “Grace?”
Lost in her own spiraling thoughts, Grace didn’t notice Lorin’s approach.
By the time she realized someone was standing right in front of her, it was too late.
Her eyes widened in shock, her body stiffened, and she instinctively stumbled back.
Thud! A dull thump echoed as the back of her head collided squarely with the wall behind her.
Grace winced in pain, clutching her head with both hands. “Ow…” she groaned, wearing a mix of agony and embarrassment on her face.
At least the sound suggested there was something solid inside that head…
“W-What do you want from me?”
Grace stammered, still eyeing Lorin warily.
“Sister~ could you give me a pass?”
Entering and exiting the palace usually required either an identity token or a pass.
Technically, Lorin’s royal status allowed her to come and go freely.
Unfortunately, that freedom vanished the moment her S-rank mother, Claire, entered the equation.
Even as a third-tier mage, Lorin couldn’t defy a single person within the palace.
So, she had no choice but to rely on her brilliant little brain to outsmart the system.
“Oh, that… No one can do it!”
Grace flatly refused, her tone finally serious.
“Her Majesty gave me strict orders.”
Lorin’s smile froze.
She gritted her teeth.
Claire.
Again.
What terrible karma had she accumulated to end up with that woman?
“Sister Grace~ but she’s not here right now…”
“Nope! Your Highness, I am a woman of principle.”
“…”
“Hmm…”
Lorin hesitated.
The palace guards were no joke.
Each one had top-tier detection abilities, most of them were fourth-tier combatants, and some even fifth-tier.
She, a mere third-tier, would be playing house against grown-ups.
“Then… could you at least show me what a pass looks like?”
After a moment of thought, Lorin decided to take a step back.
Worst case, she could just forge one.
As an equivalent exchange alchemist, this was the most basic of tricks.
“That much I can do.”
Grace nodded slightly, her face showing a subtle calm.
Her slender fingers reached into her pocket.
A moment later, she pulled out an exquisitely crafted pass.
It wasn’t very thick, but the paper shimmered slightly under the light.
The information printed was concise and clear, the most eye-catching part being a photo.
Below the photo, her name was neatly printed, followed by a brief description of her identity.
Around the edges, elegant and mysterious patterns were inscribed.
The flowing lines carried an ancient, dignified air, marking the bearer’s noble vampire heritage.
“Thank you, Sister Grace!”
Lorin beamed, then bolted out of the room.
The moment her fingers touched the pass, she had already analyzed most of the materials used.
Now, it was time to head to the alchemy workshop.
***
Inside the dim alchemy workshop, the air was thick with the strange scent of herbs and magical reagents.
“Color-shifting oil crystal, scales from the neck of a red howl wolf, and fluorite powder…”
Lorin muttered as she moved quickly toward the materials warehouse.
Shelves lined with jars, bottles, and burlap sacks full of mysterious ingredients surrounded her.
She found the red howl wolf scales, and the fluorite powder glowing faintly with condensed light.
But when she began looking for the color-shifting oil crystal, she ran into trouble.
It was as if the crystal had vanished into thin air—no matter where she searched, she couldn’t find it.
With a frustrated sigh, she brushed the dust off her clothes and walked toward an elderly man nearby, whose silver hair gleamed under the alchemy lamps.
He seemed to be the one in charge here.
The old man certainly knew how to enjoy life.
One hand supported the bottom of a cup, the other held it gracefully, and the scent of coffee wafted from within.
A pair of gold-rimmed glasses sat atop his nose, and his silver hair was neatly combed.
His face had only a few wrinkles, and his crimson eyes were bright and sharp.
Seeing Lorin approach, Hod Wilson gently set down his cup and offered a respectful bow.
“Your Highness, is there anything I can help you with?”
“Where’s the color-shifting oil crystal?”
Lorin asked plainly.
She no longer cared about being addressed as “princess.”
As Claire had said, unless she turned back, pretending otherwise was just lying to herself.
“Oh, that…”
Hod paused in thought, then slowly stood up.
“Please follow me, Your Highness.”
But in his heart, Hod was already wondering what Lorin wanted with something like that.
The oil crystal was only used for crafting palace passes or identity tokens.
Other than that, it was useless.
You could toss it on the street and no alchemist would bother to pick it up—unless, of course, they had less-than-noble intentions.
Still, he made a mental note to inform Her Majesty afterward…
From a small hidden attic, Hod retrieved a box.
After channeling a specific magical pattern into the seal, the box slowly opened, revealing a cluster of glowing purple crystals.
He took one and handed it to Lorin.
Her eyes lit up as she accepted it.
After thanking him, she hurried back toward the alchemy workshop.
She couldn’t wait to breathe in the fresh air outside.
A caged bird—ready to fly.
Claire, just you wait.
You really think you can keep me locked up here?
What do you take me for—your daughter?