The apprentice sat blankly on a bench. Their research material submitted to the Tower for the semester had been rejected—not merely postponed.

“Scholarship completely excluded... Promotion on hold... Application for a personal research lab on hold...”

Various horrific thoughts flooded the alchemist's mind.

“I’ve seen your research material.”

“...Pardon?”

At that moment, someone approached and suddenly spoke.

“Your hostile understanding of dark magic from an alchemical perspective was intriguing. Challenging. Too bad it was rejected, though.”

“...”

The master of the Grey Tower stood before them—a figure far above the apprentice. The one who evaluates and judges apprentices.

Despite the master showing personal interest, the apprentice reacted coldly. Given the situation, it seemed that the master was about to offer some advice, but at that moment, it felt like pouring salt on an already painful wound.

“I felt a sense of kinship with you.”

“...Kinship?”

How could I be like you? Where are we alike at all? The apprentice struggled to hide their displeasure.

“I wanted to pass your research material. But other masters were vehemently opposed. They said it would set a bad precedent that could infect the Tower. They claimed it would negatively impact other students.”

“...So what are you trying to say? Do you want to personally inform me how my research was dismissed by the masters I respect?”

“I told you. I felt kinship. In fact, I’ve experienced something similar.”

The apprentice silently scoffed at her.

You’ve gone through something similar? Your confident assertion feels both ridiculous and contemptible. What could you possibly know?

Oblivious to the apprentice's thoughts, the master continued.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but later I learned. When I underwent the entrance exam, similar discussions took place at the top levels of the Tower. There were voices raised in opposition, claiming that leaving a bad case like mine would have a long-term negative impact on the Tower.”

“...And yet here you are.”

“True. It’s not recorded, but someone present raised their voice in my defense.”

“So you owe your affiliation with the Tower to that person, whoever it was?”

“I wished to know who they were. But I never found out. The Tower accepted me, but didn’t fully recognize me. They didn’t record the discussions about me, allowing them to erase it at any time.”

The apprentice lifted their head and looked at the master. The master nodded and continued.

“It’s the same now. Formally, I’m a master of the Tower, but I’m not recorded in its rolls. Yet, as you said, I’m here. People don’t acknowledge me, but they can’t deny me either. All of that is because I had a chance—an opportunity to prove myself. And that opportunity came because—”

“Someone spoke up for you.”

“Exactly.”

The master reached out her hand to the apprentice.

“I also want to give that chance to someone else.”

“...”

The apprentice lowered their head again, revealing their emotions where the master couldn’t see. It was a smirk of a predator who had found an opportunity.

**Apprentice Thulan.**

She composed her expression. The cunning predator transformed immediately into an earnest apprentice. Thulan grasped the master’s extended hand and said,

“I won’t disappoint you, Master Didoa.”

---

The hostile understanding of dark magic from an alchemical perspective. The reason the Tower rejected Thulan's research was clear: there was no guarantee that her research wouldn’t cross the line.

Those who handle unclean powers weren’t always positioned above others. Even those on the righteous path could easily stray and lose themselves.

The Tower's judgment was reasonable—if we had to determine right and wrong, Didoa would be the one to err.

Didoa knew that as well. She was aware that her judgment wasn’t rational.

Yet the reason she made an irrational decision was that, quite simply, emotions had taken precedence.

Having lived her life as a half-demon, Didoa had endured persecution. If there were a most significant event in her life, it was undoubtedly passing the entrance exam.

That single recognition transformed her from merely a half-demon into a master of the Tower. Had it not happened, she might have ended up in the outskirts of the city, reduced to making drugs.

Didoa had never forgotten that fact. Therefore, she had always yearned for it. To someday become someone who could provide others with such opportunities.

Thus, Didoa vowed—no matter what happened, she would believe in Thulan.

“You foolish girl. A half-demon dares to pity me? Fine. Go ahead and pity me.”

In that way, the opportunity Didoa provided became an unparalleled chance for Thulan.

---

Having faced persecution as a half-demon her entire life, Didoa struggled with interpersonal interactions.

“Didoa—ah! I’m sorry! You just feel so friendly… What? You say I can call you that when it’s just the two of us? I’m so glad!”

Thulan seized the opening in Didoa’s emotional armor.

“Being your professor, I’ll do my best!”

Didoa granted Thulan powers beyond those of a mere assistant, and Thulan utilized that authority thoroughly.

She interacted with the Tower’s people under Didoa’s name. She freely used the Tower’s research materials in Didoa’s name. She conducted research in Didoa’s name.

She filled her surroundings with her own presence.

“Thulan? It seems the chair in my spot has been changed?”
“Oh! That’s right! I did it!”
“Why?”
“I sat on it, and it was really uncomfortable! Just know I did it all for you, Didoa!”
“...I see.”

At some point, Didoa realized that Thulan had more belongings in her lab than she did.

“How could you do this to me?”
“Thulan—”
“Enough! If you don’t allow this, I’ll quit as your assistant.”
“...This will be the very last time.”
“Really!? Thank you, Didoa! You’re the only one for me!”

Didoa, who had struggled with interpersonal relations, grew through her relationship with Thulan and realized she had allowed too much under the guise of understanding.

To Thulan, she was neither an understanding person nor a friend. She was merely a tool for exploitation.

Didoa sought to correct this misstep, but by the time she recognized the issue, it was already too late.

“Didoa. What’s this habit of calling Master Thulan by that name?”

When Didoa attempted to engage in conversation, the reaction from the apprentices around Thulan was immediate.

“...Apprentice, what are you saying? Master Thulan? Thulan, can you explain this?”
“How dare that filthy half-demon!”

One of the apprentices pushed Didoa. Overwhelmed, she had no immediate response and fell over.

Thulan looked down at Didoa with cold eyes.

“Didoa. I distinctly told you to exercise caution when others are around.”

“...Thulan?”

“Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you. Didoa, you’re on a week-long probation. Use this time for self-reflection.”

The power known as "Parasite of Oblivion," granted by a demon follower, had fully manifested under all conditions.

---

▶ Fate 44: Parasite

---

---

**[Title: The Fate of Parasite Story is Crazy]**  
Content: Parasite of Oblivion < Isn’t this a total cheat?  
What kind of hypnosis app effect are we talking about here?  
If you can’t conquer the world with this, you’re just stupid.  

- I tried learning it too, but it didn’t work...  
- You’ll find out if you try it yourself, but the conditions are really strict, so most people can’t use it.  
- It might work on mobs that don’t exceed level 10.  

- [Author]: ? So what about Didoa?  
- [Author]: Isn’t she level 45?  

- That’s not a lie; it’s Didoa, so that’s what happened.  
- Damn, Didoa is really pathetic.  
- She’s offering everything—guts and gallbladder—to Thulan as a friend fee, so the Parasite of Oblivion’s effect activates, right?  

- [Author]: But what are those conditions?  
- To equip items owned by oneself + Achieve a higher affinity with all characters activated in relation to the target.  
- [Author]: Wait, the first condition is fine, but is the second even possible?  
- Thulan is personal, and Didoa is a total loser.  
- Think of it this way: the top socialite of the school takes away the top loners.  
- [Author]: Ah.  

---

“Risir.”

Coughing softly, Meltas tapped the seat right next to him.  

“Come here and sit, Risir.”  

Risir’s brows furrowed, involuntarily expressing a physiological aversion.

“...”

Meltas, with a wounded expression, began speaking in a hushed tone, lowering his volume.

“Risir, what if you reconsider?”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“What else? I’m talking about entrusting Didoa with the elixir.”  
“Is there a problem with that?”  
“...”  

Meltas fumbled his words, his expression showing he had a lot to say but didn’t know how to approach it.

Society’s perception of half-demons wasn’t favorable.

They are born with relatively sensitive mana responses and

 exhibit a fanatic obsession with mana!  
Half-demons would devour their own parents for the sake of their magical powers!

That was the perception and prejudice toward demons. Most people weren’t free from such biases. Meltas was no exception.

In fact, Meltas had heard unpleasant stories related to this. There were rumors that Didoa had been secretly stealing various research materials from the Hall of Alchemy. There was even talk that if it weren’t for Thulan’s protection, she would have been expelled long ago.

Meltas also knew how foolish it was to judge someone based solely on prejudice and rumors. But as a person, he couldn’t be completely free from those two factors.

They say three people can create a tiger. Countless masters and students spoke ill of Didoa in front of Meltas.

Meltas tried to maintain as neutral a stance as possible.

“Thinking back, I feel I may have misspoken before. My statement that any skilled alchemist would suffice was based on Thulan. I think it’s better to seek help from other masters—”

Meltas stopped mid-sentence, directing his gaze in the same direction as Risir.

He saw Didoa, holding her palm to her ear, amplifying the surrounding sounds while eavesdropping on their secret conversation. Her awkward posture made it seem more like a failed attempt at eavesdropping.

“Didoa. What are you doing?”  
“I was curious about what you two were discussing.”  

Perhaps it was thanks to her perpetually emotionless expression and tone. Her odd behavior invited various interpretations.

“...”

Meltas felt Didoa’s actions mocked his behavior, and he was embarrassed. He felt as though he had been caught speaking negatively about her without her knowledge.

“I was discussing how my elixir is of such high quality that it would be best to consume it under optimal conditions.”

Risir perceived Didoa’s actions as playful complaints.  

*Include me too.*  
He could almost hear her say it in her typical emotionless tone and expression.

“How good could it possibly be? I’m curious. If possible, may I see it?”  
“Here it is.”

Ah. Ugh. Meltas was momentarily taken aback by the sight of Risir casually handing the elixir to Didoa, but ultimately, he decided to respect his judgment.

After all, she was the assistant of ‘Master Thulan.’ Surely she wouldn’t dare pull tricks in front of other masters?

“Let’s see.”

Instead of receiving the elixir, Didoa folded her arms behind her back and leaned forward, adjusting her head to observe the elixir in Risir’s hand.

“That’s an unusual way to observe. Is that one of the alchemical techniques?”  
“No. I thought you might feel uncomfortable if my hands touched the precious elixir.”  
“?”

Suddenly, Risir felt the intricacies of empathy.  
Is this how people feel when I make jokes about being an illegitimate child?

Risir didn’t push Didoa any further. Instead, he moved the elixir around, making it easier for Didoa to observe.

“Oho.”

After a moment of observation, Didoa let out a small gasp.  
Her expression and tone remained unchanged, but it was her way of expressing surprise.

“It’s a work of the Ghosraltan alchemists. As you said, it’s an exceptional quality.”  
“Ghosraltan...? Can you really tell that just by looking?”  

Risir examined the elixir from various angles, just like Didoa. In his eyes, it was merely a clear liquid in a bottle with no distinguishing features.

“Rub the rim of the bottle carefully. You’ll feel a fine engraving.”  
“...Oh, certainly—”  
“Gedratsa.”  
“Gedratsa?”  
“It’s a visionary technique that Ghosraltan sorcerers include the container itself in the alchemical process of storing solutions.”  
“Uh...”  
“To put it simply, the elixir is not only the contents but also the bottle itself, forming a single entity.”  
“Is that good?”  
“Gedratsa is one of the highest-level reagent techniques known today. Even with the same ingredients, if an elixir is made with Gedratsa, its efficacy can be said to increase by at least one tier.”  
“Is that a sorcerer’s technique?”  

Meltas inquired with a puzzled expression, while Didoa returned to an upright position and continued her explanation.

“It’s the opposite; it’s a sorcerer’s technique.”  
“Please elaborate.”  
“Dark magic, necromancy, spirit magic, sorcery. To sorcerers, it’s all merely a form of sorcery. In fact, aside from those mages who strive to uphold the righteous path, that applies to everyone. They have vague boundaries in handling power, and thus they have no qualms in dealing with other powers.”  

Didoa pointed toward the elixir with a gesture.

“Gedratsa adds the principles of dark magic to alchemy, reinterpreted through sorcery. It’s a technique that minimizes the inevitable loss of ingredients during the manufacturing process by substituting it with the creator’s life force.”  
“…!”  

The true nature of my beloved elixir?  
Risir gasped in surprise, checking the elixir.

Didoa continued her explanation.

“Thus, elixirs made with Gedratsa possess high efficacy but find it hard to be fully recognized due to their value. Since they contain dark magical power, if improperly consumed, one could experience a distortion of their mana.”  
“Is my elixir fine?”  

Risir asked with a worried expression.

“I was just about to mention that—in that respect, your elixir can be considered among the finest of the finest.”  
“Really?”  
“Compared to Gedratsa’s chronic flaw, the dark magic’s presence is not felt in your elixir.”  

Risir had been thinking the same.  
*Huh? If it contained dark magic, I should have sensed it by now?*

“I suspect it was possibly removed through additional processing—amazing. To think that’s even possible, and you actually put it into action.”

Risir suddenly recalled the first time he received an elixir from his mentor, Phamon. Now that he thought about it, he did feel a slight sting in his hand back then—

“If things had gone wrong, not only would the power contained in the elixir have been distorted, but that altered power would have flowed into your body, leaving your mana in turmoil. Only a lunatic with alchemy in their mind could manage such a feat. As a fellow alchemist, I feel awe. Do you happen to know this alchemist? I would love to meet them and exchange insights if possible.”  
“Perhaps I might have done just that.”  

Didoa pondered for a moment before giving a lopsided smile, raising one corner of her mouth.

“How interesting. I may not understand jokes well, but I quite like yours.”

Though she seemed to be mocking him, Didoa was genuinely enjoying herself. It wasn’t so much that she found Risir’s joke funny, but rather she took pleasure in the situation where he joked with her.

So, instead of rebutting, Risir said to Didoa,

“You seem quite knowledgeable in this field, Didoa. So I’m asking, could I request your assistance in consuming the elixir?”  
“Are you suggesting that I personally analyze the ingredients of the elixir and provide my insights?”  
“That’s correct.”  
“Are you sure about that?”  

Risir looked around before answering.  
Inside the research lab of the alchemist Thulan.

He felt the unmistakable presence of something everywhere in the lab.

Nodding.  
Risir’s thoughts solidified further.  
Rather than asking Thulan, it was right to ask Didoa, who was right in front of him.

“Yes. I would like to ask.”  
“Shouldn’t you consult Master Meltas as well?”  
“My opinion is that I was honestly surprised. Didoa, your insights are deeper than I expected. I can’t comprehend why Master Thulan spoke so poorly of you.”  

“Master Thulan seems like a rather peculiar person.”  
“Oh? What do you mean by that, Risir?”  
“...”  

Didoa’s expression, which had been emotionless all along, wavered.

“Risir...”

She was about to carefully open her mouth when someone entered the lab.

It was Master Thulan and her apprentices.

“Didoa. I told you to not let guests into the lab without my permission—... Master Meltas!”

Thulan had initially scolded Didoa but, upon noticing Meltas, replaced her sternness with a friendly smile.

“What brings you here without notice?”  
“Oh, I was intending to ask you for assistance in consuming the elixir. But weren’t you supposed to return around sunset today?”  
“Pardon? Me?”  
“Didoa mentioned that.”  
“...”  

Thulan displayed a clear sign of discomfort.  
That was enough.

Meltas and the apprentices shot Didoa disapproving glances.

*Cough.*  
Meltas spoke.

“Actually, I was about to ask Didoa to assist with the consumption of the elixir in your absence.”  
“Are you saying Didoa lied about being late... What did Didoa say?”  
“For now, she seemed positively inclined to offer her assistance.”  
“Didoa...”  

Thulan maintained her warm smile, but that behavior only intensified the sharp looks directed at Didoa.

“That half-demon is once again causing trouble for Master Thulan...”  

One of the apprentices muttered.

Didoa fidgeted nervously.  

The first thing she did was check Risir’s reaction.

“...”  

Did she feel animosity towards her due to Thulan’s comments?  
His once-friendly expression had stiffened.

“Ah.”

It felt as if the last vestige of support had crumbled. Didoa lowered her head.  

For a moment, she felt as if she had escaped this horrific nightmare.  
For a brief moment, the man who had allowed her to dream had now become a part of her nightmare.

The anxiety she had momentarily forgotten through her encounter with Risir began to take shape again.

*I can’t escape this nightmare.*

Didoa’s expressionless eyes, which contained a faint light, dimmed further.  
As she was about to murmur a spell with a bitter taste, a voice interrupted.

“Master Meltas?”

Risir leaned in to whisper something in Meltas’ ear.

“...!”

Meltas gasped and asked Risir again.

“Is that truly the case?”  
“Yes. I swear it on my power.”  
“...Understood.”  

After that, they engaged in another round of conversation, and suddenly the atmosphere of the room shifted.

“Master Meltas...?”

Thulan was taken aback.  
Suddenly, Master Meltas was displaying hostility toward her.

“Master Thulan.”

At that moment, a man she had never seen before approached Thulan, offering her a bottle.

“Do you know what this is?”  
“It’s an elixir, right? Ah, are you the owner of the elixir that Master Meltas mentioned? We seem to be meeting for the first time—should we introduce ourselves?”  

Thulan responded with a smile that one would naturally hold in such a situation.  
Risir nodded and spoke.

“Excuse me, but may I request Didoa to assist in consuming the elixir?”  
“What?”  

Thulan’s previously warm expression faltered.