“Wait, is this right?”
Ankat felt as if her whole world was collapsing.
She had just had a bit to drink and went to sleep—how did she wake up to something like this?
Silver Bell Marrow Fluid wasn’t expensive, and to a mentor like her, it was hardly worth mentioning.
But the Academy had its regulations, and as a mentor, she had to avoid suspicion and abide by the rules.
And now?
More than half of it had just disappeared into thin air.
Her chest heaved violently, blood rushing to her head, and the “young girl’s” face flushed a little red.
“You—”
Ankat barely managed to squeeze out a word, but the anger about to burst forth was choked back in her throat.
Across from her, the boy—the one she had personally acknowledged as the Sage’s disciple—had shoulders trembling ever so slightly.
He hung his head, his expression hidden.
Then, a single drop of liquid fell onto the spotless floor, splashing into a tiny flower of water.
He was… crying?
Most of Ankat’s anger was extinguished in an instant by this realization.
Her mind went blank.
What was this? A guilty conscience? Or…
“Thank you, Mentor.”
Lomiu suddenly raised his head, his flawless face streaked with two clear trails of tears.
His voice was thick with nasal congestion, choked with emotion.
“Really… thank you so much.”
“I… I’ve never met anyone as generous as you.”
Ankat was utterly dumbfounded.
Her mouth hung open, unsure what to say.
Generous?
That was just me being polite! A social nicety! Can’t you tell?
Whose child comes to a teacher and, treating themselves like family, cleans out the whole storeroom?
“I…”
Lomiu didn’t wait for her to gather her words and continued speaking on his own.
His emotions burst forth like a dam, completely out of control.
“I was born on the frontier, in a nondescript little place.”
“But in this world, what are men worth?”
Lomiu’s self-question was tinged with a hopeless sorrow.
“We’re just appendages, ornaments, tools for continuing the bloodline.”
“I don’t even… I don’t even know who my mother is.”
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had a strict father at my side, and countless scrutinizing eyes.”
“They looked at me as if I were merchandise, assessing my value, calculating how much benefit I could bring the family.”
“Even serving and waiting upon others, the maids decided by drawing lots!”
“I have to consider if this trip to the Academy is the only chance in my life to live as a proper person.”
Ankat was left frozen.
All the things she had wanted to say were swallowed back down.
She looked at the boy, nearly falling apart before her eyes, and images of him rummaging for materials in the trash flashed through her mind—a picture of hardship.
The son of a border count.
Sounds impressive.
But in this female-dominated world, the dazzling appearance hid pressures and pain unimaginable to outsiders.
“That’s why I want to prove myself—to prove that men can achieve things, too.”
“I don’t want to be someone sent off for a political marriage to a great family, and then waste away a useless life.”
Lomiu’s voice trembled even more. He raised a hand to wipe his face, but more tears kept streaming down.
“I thought that here, I could win respect through my own efforts.”
“But… but I can’t even afford the most basic materials.”
“Seeing those goods on the commercial street, watching those young ladies casually spend in a day what I could never earn in a lifetime of Academy credits…”
He looked sharply at the half-emptied cabinet, then back at Ankat.
“So, when you said… when you said I could use whatever I wanted, I…”
“I really couldn’t hold back.”
“I wanted… I wanted so badly to seize this opportunity.”
“I wanted so badly to prove that men aren’t just useless pretty faces!”
When he finished, Lomiu swayed, as if all his strength had left him, leaning on the alchemy table and gasping for breath, tears flowing uncontrollably.
In the whole workshop, only his stifled sobs remained.
Ankat’s heart felt as though something had pierced it hard.
It hurt.
There was an unexplainable bitterness and… guilt.
The boy was made an outcast by the world’s rules—but wasn’t she the same?
She remembered how, because of her exceptional talent, all of Russell had pinned their hopes on her, yet she’d been unable to realize her ambitions due to the overall backwardness of alchemy.
Her only choice was to travel far away, coming to the Duchy.
But this feeling of devotion to country and people, after a few years of burning, was slowly smothered by the Duchy’s endless treaties, with no hope left of ever returning to Russell.
All that remained was hiding out in this workshop, drowning herself in drink and avoiding reality.
And this boy before her?
Even basic survival required all his strength to struggle for.
A casual polite phrase, taken as a lifeline.
Stock that wasn’t worth much in her eyes, now carrying the weight of his deepest hopes.
“Don’t… don’t cry.”
Ankat’s voice was dry. She stepped forward, wanting to pat Lomiu’s shoulder, but her hand stopped awkwardly in midair.
Damn, she couldn’t reach.
“A real man shouldn’t be crying like this!”
Ankat put her hands on her hips, scolding, though anyone could hear the lack of confidence in her words.
Wasn’t the idea of a “real man” from several eras ago?
Whatever, she’d seen it in a book—might as well use it now!
Lomiu’s sobs quieted a little, and stifling the joy in his heart, he looked up with red eyes at Ankat.
“Sorry, Mentor.”
“I… I just got too emotional.”
“That’s enough!”
Ankat barked.
“What I’ve given is given—no one can say anything about it!”
She stood tall, trying to put on the dignity of a mentor.
“If Ankat gives something away, it never gets taken back!”
“But…”
“No buts!” Ankat cut him off. She walked over to the cabinet, now more than half empty, glanced at the pitiful remains, but spoke with bravado:
“It’s just a bit of Silver Bell Marrow Fluid! What of it?”
“You’re my student! The one the Sage values!”
“If you can’t even use a bit of material like this, what will people say about Ankat?”
The more she talked, the more it sounded like Lomiu hadn’t taken the materials, but that she had given them herself.
“I’ll say it again!”
Ankat turned around and pointed at Lomiu.
“From today on, in this workshop, you can use any materials below Tier Four! If it’s not enough, tell me! I’ll put in a request for you!”
Lomiu stared blankly at her, tears still not dry.
“Mentor…”
“But!” Ankat changed her tone, “I’m not giving them to you for free.”
“If you take my materials, you’d better show me some results!”
“If you dare waste a single thing, I’ll hang you from the Academy’s bell tower!”
Lomiu couldn’t help but laugh through his tears.
“Yes, Mentor.”
He bowed deeply.
“I’ll never let you down.”
“Go on, get to practicing. If you don’t understand something, come ask me. I… I need a moment to collect myself.”
Ankat turned away, no longer looking at Lomiu.
She grabbed her wine bottle, hesitated for a few seconds, then brought it to her lips.
“Yes, Mentor.”
Bowing again, Lomiu quietly left the alchemy workshop.
Clack.
The main door closed behind him.
“Hmm… Where should I collect my Oscar?”
With a spring in his step, Lomiu left Building Three, humming softly.
According to the personal quest in the game, although Ankat was a lazy drunkard, at heart she was fiercely protective and overflowing with sympathy.
Especially after she’d been drinking and someone pressed her sore spot.
As long as he humbled himself, her anger at material loss would quickly be replaced by a mentor’s sense of responsibility and overwhelming sympathy.
Judging by now…
She really was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted.
Ah, this isn’t fraud—it’s a necessary process to relieve Mentor’s psychological burden so she’ll never again worry about breaking Academy rules!
“I guess this counts as doing a good deed for the day.”
Thinking about the next move in his grand scheme, Lomiu’s mind flashed to the figure of a certain girl, still owing him a debt, likely living in terror at this very moment.
“Next up…”
“It’s your turn, my dear debtor—Keshia!”