Risir’s sudden request for assistance in consuming the elixir left Meltas momentarily stunned, yet filled with a certain thrill.

“Risir. Do you understand the value of this elixir?”
“I believe it’s comparable to a grand mansion in a major city.”
“Must you always translate everything into material terms to be content?”
“Not necessarily, but it does make it easier to grasp, doesn’t it?”
“…So, you know the value and still asked me for this favor.”
“Ah, did I make an inappropriate request?”
“Inappropriate? Quite the contrary.”

For a mage, consuming an elixir was an event of unparalleled importance—something that could dictate the course of their entire life. The monetary worth alone was sufficient to provide a life of luxury and idleness.

And the effect of such an elixir? It could lead to a turning point in one’s life, propelling them to a level that would usually take years to reach or even opening entirely new paths.

Thus, asking someone to assist with consuming an elixir was akin to entrusting them with one’s life. It was not something done unless there was immense trust involved.

“We’re practically strangers, are we not? And yet, you had the audacity to make such a request. What would you have done if I had sinister intentions upon seeing this elixir?”

The title of 'Master' in the Tower was not one awarded solely on merit. It required reputation and character as well. Finding someone more trusted than Meltas in Bondales would be no easy task. Risir’s choice was not entirely off the mark.

However, it was not infallible either. The elixir Risir possessed was a treasure that could tempt even the most honorable figures. If Meltas were asked to list trustworthy candidates capable of assisting with such a task, he wouldn’t confidently name more than five people.

In this context, Meltas felt a peculiar satisfaction. Risir’s trust was directed fully at him.

Meltas waited for Risir’s response with anticipation. Perhaps it would be something along the lines of, “I’ve heard of your reputation, Master Meltas. If there’s one person I must trust in Bondales, it would be you.”

The old man’s mind was already painting a picture of Risir accepting him as his mentor.

“I was certain that Master Meltas wouldn’t harbor ill intentions.”
“Hmm. And why is that?”
“You saw me gain the attention of the Assassin Guild’s master right before your eyes. I figured you’d be too shaken to make any irrational decisions.”
“…”

Meltas was stunned. Risir’s reasoning was cold and pragmatic, not rooted in admiration or trust as he had assumed!

Meltas was torn between raising his opinion of Risir or feeling offended at being chosen for such a straightforward reason.

“Additionally, I did believe—albeit slightly—that Sir Meltas isn’t one to forfeit his credibility over such matters.”
“Slightly… You’re quite bad at flattery, Risir. If you’d polished that last bit, you could’ve left a much better impression.”
“Is that so? But isn’t it odd to fully trust someone you’ve only just met?”
“True enough. Frankly, even if I had been impressed, my opinion of you would’ve dropped somewhat. You’re more discerning than I thought. For someone who seems indecisive, that’s unexpected.”
“Likewise, Sir Meltas, had you refined your final words, you would’ve left a better impression on me. I’m quite weak to compliments, you see.”
“It seems I have no desire to make you feel too comfortable. You didn’t hold back either.”
“This is a most enlightening conversation. I feel our relationship is shedding all pretense and becoming rooted solely in truth.”
“What kind of nonsense is this?”

Shaking his head with a sigh, Meltas began preparing for the elixir consumption.

“Risir, we have a situation.”
“Please, don’t tell me there’s something wrong with my elixir. I’m already prepared to break down sobbing.”
“It’s the opposite. Where did you get this elixir?”
“Pardon?”

Elixirs were best consumed with full knowledge of their properties. Meltas had begun analyzing it for optimal results. That’s when the problem arose.

“I can’t decipher the components or the magic contained within it.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Of course! It must’ve been crafted with such meticulous precision and delicate craftsmanship. I can’t even fathom how it was achieved.”

Risir felt a sense of déjà vu. Now that he thought about it, he recalled a similar conversation with his mentor, Phamon.

“Elixirs like this aren’t something you can simply buy, even with immense wealth. It’s as if you raided the vault of a high noble family.”
“Ha, raiding a noble’s vault? You exaggerate.”

Risir averted his gaze, steering the topic elsewhere.

“Then what should I do? Should I just drink it? I was taught that a true man acts without hesitation.”
“A true man’s virtue? That’s the folly of fools. For the record, I’ve never touched a drop of alcohol in my life. It dulls the mind.”
“Isn’t there a time when social drinking becomes unavoidable for maintaining relationships?”
“Silence. In any case, consuming this elixir may require additional help.”
“Are you suggesting that Marina—”
“Nonsense! I surpass Marina in every field. This simply isn’t my specialty.”

*Follow me.*

Risir picked up the elixir and followed Meltas out.

The dim, clustered rooms of the Tower were what Risir had expected. However, after a brief tour, he had to admit he’d been wrong.

The structures were less like ‘towers’ and more akin to ‘halls,’ interconnected organically. Wide passages between pillars created an open, welcoming atmosphere, with sunlight streaming in and well-maintained gardens adding a vibrant touch.

“I expected the Tower to be a much gloomier place.”
“A common misconception. The Tower stands as a testament to the pursuit of knowledge and the indomitable spirit of scholars.”

Meltas’ eyes gleamed as he looked at Risir.

“Are you becoming interested in this place?”
“Would you like to hear my thoughts after this tour?”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s expensive, isn’t it? I can almost hear the students’ cries beneath these luxurious pillars.”
“Don’t make it sound like a den of necromancers. And don’t worry about tuition. There are scholarships and support programs.”
“So, it’s a structure that benefits a select few while exploiting the majority. I wonder if I’d be among the select few?”
“Enough talk of money. Judging academia by material standards is the most pointless endeavor.”

*Risir, I’ll make you my apprentice yet!*

Meltas’ persistent effort to promote the benefits of the Grey Tower continued as they walked. Along the way, Meltas made a realization.

‘Ah! He truly has no interest in scholarly value at all!’

The long history and tradition of the Grey Tower were things any mage should find significant.

Risir, however, was unfazed. The pride, rights, and duties Meltas spoke of were far from his concerns. Risir’s goal was to extract maximum benefits with minimal responsibility. He wanted the privileges of the Tower without being bound by its obligations—a shrewd, pragmatic outlook.

In the end, Meltas had to concede.

“...By the way, being part of the Tower can open many material benefits.”
“That’s sudden. But my heart is now racing. Can I hear more?”
“What am I doing…!”

Meltas lamented over compromising his pride as a scholar to appease Risir. Yet Risir was worth it. At first, Meltas had been interested solely in Risir’s abilities, but the more they spoke, the more the young man intrigued him.

Risir’s (excessively) open-minded approach fit well with his extraordinary talent. Once you found one aspect appealing, the others followed.

Now, Meltas even regretted dismissing him as an illegitimate son at first. If he’d started on the right foot, they could’ve built a much better rapport. Meltas resolved to adopt some of Risir’s openness.

This newfound approach was rooted in that reflection.

“...The Tower has a supporter system.”
“A supporter system?”
“A program that acknowledges those who assist mages, granting certain rights. To use terms you’d appreciate, it’s a way to enjoy the privileges of the Tower without its high tuition, grueling studies, or strict obligations.”
“!!! Such an advanced system exists?”
“Is ‘advanced’ the right term? Anyway, it’s not as comprehensive as you might think. A supporter’s rights are limited compared to full mages.”
“But as a supporter of the Tower, I wouldn’t be treated as an outcast, right?”
“To an extent, yes. The Tower’s name carries weight.”

And now, to the main point.

Meltas paused for a moment before continuing.

“For the record, becoming a full-fledged mage of the Tower guarantees respect wherever you go. I stake my name on it.”
“Oh…”
“So, Risir. Would you consider learning magic under me?”
“Are you suggesting I become your apprentice—”
“Yes! Exactly that!”
“But I already have a mentor.”
“What!!!”

*Boom.* Meltas froze, thunderstruck.

But soon, he drew upon his newly acquired skill: (excessively) open-minded thinking.

“Then I’m fine with being your second mentor.”
“What.”

*Boom.* Now it was Risir’s turn to freeze, thunderstruck.

“Is that even a thing in mentor-apprentice relationships?”
“Why not? Learning is an endless journey. Imposing limits is like caging oneself.”
“That’s a wise sentiment… but forgive me for asking, do you have

 plans to study dark magic or necromancy soon? Your eyes seem to gleam a bit too intensely.”
“In any case, give it serious thought.”
“Understood. I’ll consider it. By the way, how does the supporter system work?”
“Is that the right follow-up to ‘considering’ my offer? Was ‘considering’ just a way of saying you’d reject it?”
“Oh dear. Why are you so persistent?”
“Gah, you stubborn rascal. Just wait. I’ll make you my apprentice, mark my words.”
“Good grief.”

Risir felt overwhelmed. *To think that the first person to pursue me so fervently is an old man with dreadlocks…!*

---

The barrier’s effect. The grounds of the Tower were far more extensive than they appeared from outside. After what felt like an eternity crossing the Tower’s grounds, the two arrived at their destination: the Hall of Alchemy on the opposite side of the Hall of Magic.

“Ah, Master Meltas.”

As they walked down the corridor, a group of female students recognized Meltas and approached. Moments earlier, they’d been chatting and laughing, but now they greeted him respectfully before scattering like startled birds.

‘Professors and students… it really is just like a school.’

Risir reflected as they moved down the corridor.

“Hm?”

His steps suddenly stopped. He noticed the spot where the female students had gathered. A woman had fallen, surrounded by scattered papers marked with footprints.

“Ah. I’ve shown an embarrassing scene.”

This was another way in which the Tower felt like a school—scenes of bullying. Meltas, embarrassed at revealing the Tower’s flaws, hastened his steps to leave.

“Risir?”

But Risir had already stepped away and was crouched beside the woman, collecting her papers.

‘This feels too familiar.’

Because he saw a reflection of his younger self in her.

“...”

Meltas looked at Risir as if he were an anomaly.

The woman had reversed eyes—white sclerae with dark pupils.

She was a half-demon. Meltas hadn’t helped her despite feeling pity. By society’s standards, the group of students bullying the half-demon was the norm, and Risir aiding her was the anomaly.

The woman sat silently as Risir gathered her papers, watching him with her unique eyes as if observing something mystical.

“Was I meddling unnecessarily?”

Risir handed her the bundle of papers. The woman shook her head.

“No. Thank you for helping.”

Her expression and voice were emotionless, yet she expressed her gratitude. Risir nodded and extended his hand to her.

“...”

The woman stared at his hand for a long moment before speaking cautiously.

“It’s dirty.”
“Dirty?”

Half-demons, marked by both the blessings and curses of mana, carried traits from their demon lineage. The geometric crimson markings like blood-red veins on her hands were one such trait. Her forearms, partially revealed beneath her robe sleeves, were covered by dark cloth sleeves.

“I usually wear gloves, but they were taken from me.”

She opened and closed her hands repeatedly, still maintaining an emotionless demeanor despite her distress. This made it easier for Risir to address her casually.

“It’s fine. I’m an illegitimate child, after all.”
“?”

In the end, she took his hand and stood.

“That’s... interesting.”

She raised one side of her mouth awkwardly in an attempt at a smile, placing an unnatural expression on her blank face, and then turned to leave.

Risir and Meltas resumed walking as well.

“...”
“...”
“...”

Eventually, three people were walking side by side down the corridor.

“Ahem.”

Meltas broke the silence.

“Didoa. Is Master Thulan in his study?”
“No, Master Meltas. Master Thulan is currently away.”
“Troubling.”
“?”

Risir looked at Meltas questioningly. *Do you know each other?*

“She’s Master Thulan’s assistant.”

Meltas, seemingly embarrassed, continued.

“For what it’s worth, if I showed kindness to Didoa, it would only put her in a difficult position.”
“Nobody said anything.”
“It’s just a guilty thought, so know it as such.”

Didoa nodded.

“Master Meltas is right. For what it’s worth, it would be best not to be associated with me. The Tower won’t look kindly on it.”

A short while later, they arrived at their destination: the office and laboratory of Thulan, the elite alchemist of the Grey Tower.

Didoa opened the door and led them inside. As she said, Thulan was absent.

She guided them to the sofa in the center and reached for cups from the cabinet.

“No, thank you.”
“Good thinking. Anything I touch becomes tainted.”
“...On second thought, I am a bit thirsty. Tea, please.”

Didoa quickly prepared tea and set it before them. She stood by, fidgeting with her bare hands as if unsure what to do.

“Ahem. Didoa. I didn’t ask for tea.”

Meltas glanced uncomfortably at her hands.

“Well, it’s good timing. I really am thirsty.”
“...Never mind. Just drink.”

*Sip.* Meltas took a reluctant sip and spoke.

“Didoa. When will Master Thulan return?”
“Probably at sunset.”
“Troublesome.”
“Was Master Thulan the one you intended to seek assistance from?”
“Indeed. Thulan is among the most skilled alchemists in the Grey Tower.”
“Is it impossible to consume the elixir without his help?”
“Not impossible. He was simply the first to come to mind. Any skilled alchemist should suffice.”

Risir turned to look at Didoa.

“As I recall, you mentioned being Master Thulan’s assistant, correct?”
“...Risir, don’t tell me—”
“If you’re the assistant of the most skilled alchemist in the Tower, your abilities must be reputable.”
“...Oh, dear.”

Meltas stroked his long beard anxiously.

*To entrust this invaluable elixir to a half-demon!*

“So, Didoa, would you be willing to help?”
“...”

Didoa’s eyes drifted to the window.

---

*Didoa.*

Today was significant for her. It was the day her long-prepared plans would finally bear fruit.

“...No, it’s fine. If help is needed, I’ll assist.”

Didoa decided to delay her plan.

The lives of Master Thulan and several other alchemists were extended for a while longer.