Chapter 55: Preparation Process

Sylvia’s dormitory was, as always, luxuriously spacious.

Expensive fragrances lingered in the air, every piece of furniture was a work of art—her wealth needed no further explanation.

“Miss, here’s the latest news from the market.”

A servant dressed in the family uniform respectfully handed over a piece of information.

Sylvia took it, glanced over a few lines, then tossed it casually into the trash bin.

“Boring.”

Interest-free loans, gratitude blind boxes…

All just desperate tricks from the streets.

Is that all?

You want me to take this seriously?

“Miss, their dumping at such low prices will seriously impact our…”

“Impact?”

Sylvia cut him off, her tone calm.

“How much stock does he have? How many days can he sell for? He’s just burning himself out for a sliver of pitiful reputation.”

“And all I have to do is maintain the status quo.”

She, too, had been a first-year student once.

This sort of thing was hardly her first experience.

As a newcomer, Romieu could not possibly know that the Academy’s next official restock would be after the second assessment ended.

That meant for more than half a month, the entire Academy’s supply of materials would enter a complete vacuum.

What she hoarded in her hands—now that was true hard currency.

The more eagerly Romieu sells now, the harder he will lose later.

As long as she stayed put, the moment the details of the second assessment were announced, the scales of victory in the market would tip entirely in her favor.

No, they already had.

Sylvia’s fingertips brushed lightly over that contract.

She suddenly realized she was no longer calculating how many times her investment of credits would multiply this round.

The only thought circling in her mind—

Win the contract.

This process seemed far more interesting than simply earning credits.

As for underhanded moves… that pointless gossip… as long as she won, everything could be rewritten.

“Let him be.” Sylvia waved her hand. “Let him enjoy a few more days of free air.”

Tomorrow’s price drop and shipment was, at best, just a probe.

Even those middlemen wouldn’t be fooled by such tricks.

*****

Meanwhile

Romieu was busy sending some “warmth” to his “business partner.”

Using the communication function on his brooch, he contacted Kafnir, who was dealing with matters concerning his private soldiers.

“Water of Life? What do you need that for?”

On the other end of the magitek device, his brother’s voice carried a hint of confusion.

“Of course, it’s to handle the mentor.”

Romieu spoke bluntly:

“If it’s a head-on market fight, I don’t stand a chance.”

“I’ve got a little wine cellar, not much in stock, but I’ll have some sent over.”

Not a shred of hesitation from the other side.

“Thanks, brother.”

Romieu ended the communication, feeling pleased.

A prince is a prince—even has a personal wine vault. That certainly saved him a lot of trouble.

Soon, one of Ancart’s automated golems received an anonymous “urgent delivery.”

When those few bottles—clear glass, their labels stamped with the double-headed eagle crest of Rossu—appeared in the alchemy workshop, Ancart felt his breath hitch!

“My darling! That’s really Rovlausche!!”

“What’s there to say anymore?!”

Gulp gulp gulp… hic…

*****

Back in his own dorm, Romieu locked the door and drew all the curtains.

Now came the most thrilling—and critical—step of his entire plan.

Refining Dragon Scale Balm.

In the game, this was Sylvia’s exclusive item, used solely to effectively relieve the dragonification symptoms caused by emotional swings.

Romieu had not the slightest interest in raising that dragon girl’s affection.

But he was very interested in the idea of “having her in the palm of his hand.”

Like the power of nine dragons in one’s body, becoming a muscle-bound giant in just a month.

Once you’ve tasted the feeling of being cured of inferiority, it’s hard to ever let go.

Spreading his palm, at his call, the card 【Tier Two Healing · Excellent】 appeared from the Talent Tree’s vault, radiating a gentle, life-giving glow.

The 【Tier Four Phantom Butterfly Scale Powder】 he’d “secured” from Ancart was now stored in a crystal vial; the powder inside seemed almost alive, flowing slowly and reflecting dreamy, iridescent hues.

Along with more than a dozen other auxiliary materials.

The light curtain of the 【Alchemy Talent Tree】 unfolded before his eyes.

There was no ready-made recipe.

The “Dragon Scale Balm” formula was a hidden item in the game—either acquired via in-game purchases or unlocked by players through random alchemy attempts.

But for a player like Romieu, who scoured the compendium for every scrap of reading reward, this kind of memorization was etched into his very DNA.

【Alchemy, commence.】

This time, the “score” that appeared in Romieu’s mind was a silent starry sky.

Each key transformed into a distant star, its glow faint, its trajectory complex, gravitationally entangled in ways that defied logic.

One misstep—

At best, wasted materials.

At worst, a glorious explosion.

“Let’s do this.”

Romieu focused entirely on the task before him. He could feel that his body was already a bit different from just a few days ago.

A third-tier assassin’s physique.

His senses were steadily amplified, concentration growing sharper.

Sounds he normally could not perceive began to fill his ears.

Air currents, breathing, heartbeats—Romieu started to “see” his own body, to control every detail.

The whole world seemed to slow down.

At the peak of his perception, Romieu reached out, pinched a bit of Phantom Butterfly Scale Powder between his fingers.

Using no tools, relying solely on the warmth and control of his fingertips, he separated those tiny granules, one by one.

The process was mind-numbingly dull, and the drain on his spirit was terrifying.

But the powerful mental strength from his assassin class just happened to make up for it.

An hour later, the scale powder was divided into three parts, each displaying subtle differences in magical activity.

He immediately activated the 【Tier Two Healing · Excellent】 card.

The card turned into a ball of pure life energy, hovering in midair.

Romieu guided a thread of that energy, drawing it out into a strand finer than hair, then began to “weave” with it.

He incorporated the first portion of scale powder into the energy strand by winding and piercing, almost like embroidery, stitching the powder’s magic into the very structure of the life energy.

This was the most dangerous step.

Phantom Butterfly Scale Powder’s magic was extremely unstable, while life energy was all-encompassing.

When the two met, anything could happen.

For ordinary alchemists, even with defensive formations, this would require the utmost caution—let alone barehanded.

But for Romieu, the biggest problem had already been solved.

The correct recipe.

Only those willing to invest hours in dull compendium reading, chasing a pittance of paid items, would have every last detail memorized.

Combining classroom knowledge, insights gained from crafting alchemy cards,

And a dash of Talent Tree system…

Through 【Material Perception】, Romieu controlled everything with utmost focus.

“Szzz…”

A faint, unusual sound—some of the scale powder repelled the life energy, erupting in a spark of magic the size of a grain of rice.

Romieu simply flicked his finger.

Pfft.

The chain reaction fizzled out, the materials harmonizing once again, merging even more tightly.

For the next few hours, Romieu lost himself in the art.

Weaving, merging, stabilizing, shaping…

When the final grain of Phantom Butterfly Scale Powder was perfectly merged into the life energy, the entire room was filled with a peculiar fragrance.

It was cold and distant, with a faint hint of sulfur—belonging solely to dragons.

The floating ball of energy finally condensed into a creamy balm, slowly dropping into the delicate porcelain jar Romieu had prepared in advance.

It was done.

Romieu’s forehead was already beaded with sweat.

He picked up the palm-sized jar, pulled out the stopper, and held it to his nose for a sniff.

“Mm, not bad.”

This ointment was an olive branch extended to her, and at the same time, a bridle slipped around her neck.

Conquering an SSR always needs a sense of ceremony, doesn’t it?