Chapter 21
The next morning, Ian woke up early. Unlike Milo who snored in his sleep, Edel was already awake.
"You're up early."
"Ah, yeah! I feel... lighter somehow..."
"Must be the elixir's effect."
"I knew it!"
Thanks to Milo's help the previous day, Edel's magical energy seemed to have increased. The elixir didn't merely boost magic power—it also cleared meridians. Naturally, his body felt lighter.
"You should circulate your mana to fully assimilate the magic power before the semester starts. That way you'll stabilize it for reliable use. It'll help in multiple ways."
"Thanks. Oh, here."
Edel handed over a flask from the shelf containing an unidentified green liquid.
"What's this?"
"A potion base made with distilled water. Want to evaluate it?"
"Your assessment?"
"Decent. Not sure if I should say this, but... it's far superior to what my father makes. A bit frustrating, but it's a new method after all."
The effects were evident. Ian poured liquid onto his palm and tasted it—a bitter, concentrated flavor assaulted his tongue.
"Hmm. Not bad."
"Using this should definitely enhance potency. Maybe not double, but at least by half?"
"That'd suffice."
"But Ian... Can we publicize this method?" Edel asked cautiously.
As a healer from a family business, coveting such revolutionary techniques was natural.
Ian returned the flask. "No need. We'll patent it soon anyway. People will find out eventually."
"You're patenting it?"
"Right. Anyone using this method will pay royalties... to us."
Edel blinked, startled by Ian's confident declaration. He realized Ian had been planning further ahead.
"So this wasn't just an experiment?"
"For now. There's more to discuss—later."
"Wait."
Ian turned as Edel fidgeted, hands clasped nervously.
"This question might be intrusive..."
"Then don't ask intrusive questions."
"No! That's not—"
Under Ian's fine-threatening gaze, Edel gulped. No more debt increases.
"Yesterday's elixir—the Blue Cluster. Why give it to me? You could've sold it for a fortune."
"That's your awkward question?" Ian chuckled. Edel blinked rapidly at the unexpected reaction.
"We've talked before. Potion-making isn't easy."
"But time would've solved it! You knew the distillation theory!"
"I haven't met many who help so readily. You two were first—excluding family."
"Ah."
Edel flushed, realizing he'd unearthed Ian's past unnecessarily.
"Sorry."
"Work harder to make up for it. Don't dwell on the elixir—Milo got equipment too. Fair trade."
Seeing Edel's smile, Ian stepped outside. Something caught his eye.
'A letter?'
The mailbox beside the door held an envelope addressed to "Ian Oracle." Not from a friend. Inside read:
— Peace be with you? Will visit at noon today. Academy gate salon.
Felix of Hamel Trading Co.
'No repayment schedule.'
Ian had instructed Felix to send it to the academy. Only two lines instead.
'What scheme?'
A personal visit implied ulterior motives.
'Frederick.'
The junk shop owner from days prior came to mind.
'No concrete evidence yet. Must wait until noon.'
Whoosh!
Flames erupted from Ian's hand, reducing the crumpled letter to ash.
Ian headed to the grand library.
He passed through familiar gates under knights' piercing gazes.
'No time to waste now that I know the glasses' power. Devour every translated text!'
This was war against time. He planned to maximize reading before assignments consumed his schedule.
With two days until magic assessments and semester start, every moment counted.
Entering the ancient magic archives, he found someone already seated.
'Still here?'
Isera occupied yesterday's spot, posture impeccably straight, noble aura intact. Her identical cloak confirmed an all-nighter—she'd remained since Ian tested the glasses.
The difference: a quill in her hand, scribbling furiously.
"Good morning, Senior. Did you stay all night?"
"Work to do."
"I see."
No trace of fatigue—a fellow academic beast.
The quill stopped. Isera looked up.
"You're one to talk. A freshman here at dawn? Planning to exploit me again?"
"Exploit? Perish the thought. How could I exploit heaven-sent Senior?"
"You demanded supervision for altering lightning incantations."
Ian bowed his head. "I'll be more careful."
"Strange, though." Isera's eyes sharpened. "Can't articulate why, but you're hiding something."
"Sleep deprivation, perhaps?"
"I'm fine."
"Said everyone before collapsing."
At Ian's cheeky grin, Isera sighed.
He couldn't mention the glasses—knowledge that might incite bloodshed. The artifact might require specific bloodlines or mana anyway.
'Better safe.'
"Incidentally, I needed you, Ian Oracle."
"Me?"
"Last night's discovery merits academic attention. You proposed new linguistic interpretations—we can't keep it quiet."
"I just want to graduate quietly."
"Says the potion entrepreneur?" Isera's ambiguous smile unsettled him.
"How'd you know?"
"Professor Frost—my advisor—mentioned you."
"Ah."
"You claim doubled potion efficacy and new lightning spell interpretations. Coincidence? Unlikely."
Her clinical analysis forced a nod.
"I understand, Senior. But I'm busy adjusting—"
"So?"
"Perhaps delay publication? Though proper thesis format—"
"Done."
Baffled, Ian stared as she handed him papers.
"Thesis complete. Just needs your signature."
"This..."
Unbelievable. Magical papers could be brief, but overnight?
"You wrote this alone?"
"Who else?"
"But methodology, literature review—"
"Theory majors handle such lightly."
Ian shut his mouth. 'A monster beyond imagination.'
For average mages, drafting would take days. Ian skimmed the eight-page thesis—concise yet brilliant, dissecting Sigils, Vocalization, and Mind.
Sigils: symbols channeling mana.
Vocalization: words wielding power.
Mind: legendary instant casting.
The new incantation was his own—no comprehension issues.
"Better under your name alone, Senior. You wrote it."
"Co-authorship exists for contributors."
"Still..."
"Alternatively, we scrap it. Research ethics. The incantation resurfaces decades later—only we know now."
First-time blackmail victim, Ian surrendered. "Where do I sign?"
"Here."
His mana-infused signature joined hers. Provenance sealed.
"Enough?"
"Enough."
"Feels like stealing credit."
"More competent than appearances suggest. Don't you agree?"
Isera rose and left. Ian stared at her retreating figure.
'A monster wearing beauty's mask... The Academy's interesting.'
Unconsciously, he smiled.
