"It’s hopeless."

Christine rubbed the flask with the tip of her finger. Inside the transparent glass, a silvery liquid shimmered like molten metal. Another failure. It was a relief that the mercury hadn’t exploded inside the glass.

Attempts to inscribe spells onto fluids had been made before. However, inscribing magic onto a liquid was not exactly a practical field of study, and even if successful, it didn’t promise any groundbreaking changes. As a result, most mages obsessed with research had long abandoned this endeavor.

"Can I finish this in time…?"

But one day, a noble visited the Mage Tower and submitted a request that turned everything upside down. The reward was so exorbitant that even the most arrogant mages, who claimed to care only about the advancement of magic and not money, had their heads turned. When word reached Christine, she had no choice but to dive into the research.

She had heard that the orphanage was struggling. She wanted to help in any way she could. There was only a week left. For three days, Christine had barely eaten or rested, completely immersed in her work.

"You should take a break, Christine."

Her professor at the Mage Tower placed a cup of tea in front of her. Christine merely glanced at the cup before continuing to scribble with her pen. Sheets of paper, filled with complex formulas and symbols, piled up on the desk.

"Did mercury fail as well?"

The professor curiously lifted the flask. As he moved it, the mercury clumped and shifted slowly. Christine, her blond hair disheveled, scratched her head irritably and stabbed her pen into the paper.

"Embedding magic into such an unstable substance isn’t easy. Just a little disruption, and the spell becomes unstable."

The professor clicked his tongue and set the flask back down.

"Count Benning made an unreasonable request. He said it was fine if it didn’t work, but with such a large reward at stake, who could resist trying?"

Meanwhile, Christine, having seemingly come up with a new idea, threw down her pen and picked up the flask of mercury.

"If I’m just a bit more careful…"

Focusing intensely, Christine began channeling magic into the mercury. The surface shimmered, glowing faintly. She furrowed her brow, straining to stabilize the magic within the fluid. Fluidity... stabilization? Suddenly, a blinding thought pierced her concentration, and her grip faltered.

"Christine! The flask is cracking!"

At her professor’s warning, Christine quickly halted the flow of magic. Sure enough, a fine crack had appeared on the body of the flask. Cold sweat trickled down her back as she hurriedly set the flask aside.

"I told you, it would be better to take a break. You still have a week left. If you keep pushing yourself, you’ll end up burning down the Mage Tower."

Her professor tried to dissuade her, emphasizing the need to avoid accidents. But his words barely registered in Christine’s mind.

"Christine?"

"Just a moment, professor."

Christine rummaged through the pile of papers, eventually finding a blank sheet. She began scribbling a new formula, her pen moving with renewed determination.

"Maybe the problem wasn’t in embedding the spell into a fluid in the first place."

At the tip of her pen, a completely new equation began to take shape. The professor watched her process with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

"You might be right… but as you know, if the spell isn’t anchored, it will inevitably become unstable. No one would dare use an unpredictable spell that could change at any moment."

Christine ripped the end of the paper and inscribed a single character onto it—a symbol representing the spell she was trying to capture. The ink on the paper began to glow before, with a sharp crack, the paper crumbled into ashes. Christine brushed away the smoke with a simple wind spell, muttering to herself.

"You can cast magic even with fluid ink."

"What does that have to do with the research you’re working on now?"

Christine picked up another flask, this one filled with clean, clear water.

"I’m abandoning the idea of stabilizing the spell with mana..."

Christine glanced down at the formula she had just written. It had been at least two days since she had last slept, but her mind was sharper than ever.

"Instead, I’ll manipulate the fluid’s internal flow to inscribe the spell."

The professor’s eyes widened in surprise.

"You’re suggesting fixing the spell within the liquid’s internal movement?"

Christine nodded.

"That way, the instability caused by separation would be resolved… It could even be applied to other fields, like summoning slimes."

Ignoring the professor’s musings, Christine concentrated. She was inscribing a simple light spell. As her mana coursed through the water, the liquid began to glow faintly. Christine carefully lifted the flask. The light remained steady. The spell hadn’t changed.

Christine stared at the piece of paper containing the completed spell and sighed. This single sheet of paper in her hand could be the salvation of her family. She folded it carefully and tucked it into her coat, determined to perfect the spell in the remaining week.

A week later, Christine, having completed the spell as planned, was meeting with her client.

The noble, whose reputation had spread far and wide, was none other than Leon Benning, the head of the renowned Benning family. Though high-ranking nobles like him rarely bothered with such minor tasks in person, he had sent an envoy.

Benning’s envoy sat before her, while the vice tower master sat beside Christine. She felt pressure from both sides, her discomfort evident in her expression. The envoy, speaking in a formal tone, exchanged pleasantries with the vice tower master before turning his attention to Christine.

"Has the method been perfected?"

The vice tower master’s gaze turned toward Christine, who nodded.

"Yes. I’ve found a way to maintain a spell within a fluid—essentially inscribing magic into a liquid."

Christine handed over a few sheets of paper, bound like a thesis. The envoy skimmed through them briefly before returning the papers to her.

"Frankly, I’m no expert, so I have no way of verifying the truth. However, knowing Count Benning’s personality, he wouldn’t be satisfied with anyone’s explanation but the spell’s creator."

The envoy looked directly at Christine.

"Lady Christine, the count is currently in the capital. Would you be willing to demonstrate the spell to him in person?"

Christine glanced nervously at the vice tower master, who nodded without any sign of displeasure.

"The count has commissioned other spells from the tower as well, so it would be beneficial for you to join the demonstration."

Though reluctant, Christine agreed. There were too many unsettling aspects about this deal, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on them. The envoy, sensing her unease, raised his hands reassuringly.

"You will receive the promised payment after the demonstration. There’s no need to worry."

That wasn’t her concern, but Christine didn’t voice her thoughts. Instead, she focused on the image of the orphanage, the head nun, and the children.

It’s fine, Christine. Don’t worry about what happens next. Just focus on what you need to do.

"If it’s alright, we can head to the count’s estate now. The sooner we finish, the better," the envoy added.

The vice tower master nodded in agreement.

"Very well. I’ll send Christine along with the mages who worked on the spell. It would be efficient to complete the demonstration and the enchantment at the same time."

The envoy smiled, pleased.

"Excellent. A carriage will be ready for you as soon as you’re finished."

With that, the envoy left. Christine turned to the vice tower master.

"Master, what was that about the enchantment?"

The vice tower master shrugged indifferently.

"It’s nothing major. The Benning family ordered an item, and a few spells are needed for its completion."

Christine didn’t press further. What exactly was the Benning family ordering? Why? And what kind of enchantment would be placed on it?

Something told her not to ask any more questions.

It’s all for the orphanage, Christine reminded herself.

"I’ll wait downstairs," she said, standing up.

Just do what you need to, take the money, and forget about it.

It was an unusually cold early winter day.

Christine sat uncomfortably in the lavish mansion, sipping the tea and eating the pastries brought to her by the servants. She was face-to-face with Leon Benning, whose cold gray eyes exuded an oppressive aura. His mere presence, seated across from her, made her feel small, like many others in front of him.

When the count asked for explanations, she gave them. When he asked questions, she answered concisely.

"Very well. I’ve heard enough."

The count looked at the two mages who had accompanied Christine. They appeared impressed, even envious, of her explanation.

"Do you understand it all?" he asked.

The mages nodded.

"Yes. If we refer to her notes, we’ll be able to apply the enchantment without issue."

The count closed his eyes, satisfied.

"Good. Then let’s proceed with the enchantment."

With a wave of his hand, the count’s servant placed a flask on the table. Inside was a potion with an unusual red hue. The two mages began the enchantment, referencing Christine’s notes. Christine, unable to look away from the flask, was startled when the count spoke to her.

"I suppose I owe you your reward."

A leather trunk was placed before her. Christine cautiously opened it to find several gold ingots, far more valuable than the promised amount. She gaped at the sight.

"My lord… this is…"

The count smiled warmly, though it seemed forced.

"Take it. Consider the extra as a token of my gratitude."

"I… I don’t deserve…"

Christine hastily closed the trunk, flustered. The count pushed it back toward her.

"It’s a token of goodwill. But if you were to join the Benning family as a mage after completing your training, I could offer you much more."

Christine rested her hand on the trunk, her mind in turmoil. The count’s offer was hard to refuse, but an unsettling feeling pricked at her conscience, preventing her from accepting it.

"I…"

Woom.

Before Christine could answer, the potion inside the flask began to react violently. The two mages quickly pulled their hands away.

"What’s happening?"

"There seems to be an issue with the stabilization process. If you wait, we can…"

Christine’s eyes widened as she watched the crimson liquid bubble like blood. She immediately channeled mana into the flask, taking control of the situation.

"I’ll handle it."

Such a violent reaction usually stemmed from an excess of mana. Christine worked to stabilize the enchantment, carefully drawing out the excess energy. The smoke that escaped was pitch black. Christine felt something deeply wrong in the way the potion reacted, the way the magic surged within it.

Though she hadn’t fully analyzed the spell, this was no ordinary potion meant to enhance healing. The structure of the spell itself felt primitive, sinister, and terrifyingly direct. Christine knew what it was.

A curse.

It was a remnant of past mistakes, long expelled from the Mage Tower and the magical world.

By the time she withdrew her hand from the flask, the potion had stabilized. But Christine’s eyes were still wide with shock.

"It seems stable now. Is the enchantment complete?" Count Leon Benning asked casually, while the two mages nodded in agreement. Christine grabbed one of the mages’ arms and asked urgently,

"That potion…!"

The mage quickly shook his head.

"I don’t know. We only did what the tower master instructed us to do!"

"How could you not know…!"

Christine’s voice rose in anger, forgetting who she was standing in front of.

"Why are you still aware of such things? Why would you do this to a potion meant to heal someone?"

"Christine! Calm down! This isn’t the Mage Tower…!"

The mage tried to pacify her as Christine felt Count Benning’s gaze on her.

"There are things in this world that are beyond our control, Christine Watson. You, of all people, should understand that."

Leon Benning’s words weighed heavily on Christine’s shoulders. She gathered mana in her hand, thinking she would rather destroy the potion and be arrested than let this happen—

Sching.

The Benning family’s knights unsheathed their swords. The sharp, chilling intent in their eyes sent a shiver down Christine’s spine. Leon Benning, annoyed by their interference, ordered them to lower their weapons. He turned back to Christine with his calm, neutral expression.

"My guards acted rashly. I apologize."

"Do you think destroying one potion would stop me from acquiring another?"

Christine’s hand trembled.

"And, above all, you suspected from the beginning that this wasn’t a simple task, didn’t you?"

The count’s soothing tone felt like a dagger to Christine’s heart.

"If I had known it involved a curse, I would never have agreed to this…!"

"And the orphanage would have continued to struggle with debt and financial ruin."

Christine’s vision blurred as her eyes began to water.

"Don’t lose your chance because of some futile gesture."

The count shoved the leather trunk into her arms and patted it gently.

"When your training at the Mage Tower is complete, you’re still welcome to join the Benning family."

"That won’t happen," Christine bit out, clenching her lips tightly.

"Very well. Then consider the money a token of my goodwill."

As much as she wanted to throw the trunk back at him, she couldn’t. Christine clenched her fists, trembling in humiliation as she gripped the trunk tightly.

She glared at the two mages, one of whom looked at her in confusion while the other avoided her gaze. With her face twisted in frustration, Christine turned and left the mansion, feeling the weight of Leon Benning’s gaze on her back.

She had committed a sin.

Against someone whose face or name she didn’t know.

Christine stumbled, unsure of where to go.

Carriages rushed past her in the streets as she stood still in the middle of the capital’s main road, holding a trunk filled with gold. The cold early winter wind bit sharply at her skin.

The next day, Christine ran away from the Mage Tower.