OHNIR – Chapter 41
Chapter 41: Suspicions
Just as Kelusta was puffing out her cheeks, ready to have it out with the System, Wend suddenly spoke from a distance. Though he was addressing her, his eyes remained glued to the long-necked glass flask in his hands. “Is the Milkweed flower juice done?” he asked faintly.
Kelusta flinched reflexively. Forgetting her argument with the System, she quickly replied, “It’s done!”
“Pour the juice in here, then start preheating the crucible.” Wend set the cleaned glass flask aside and gestured with his chin for Kelusta to come get it, but his blue eyes still wouldn't lift. Instead, they shifted to a light brown piece of parchment beside him.
It was the formula for the Fake Illness Potion, along with the detailed instructions, that Kelusta had written out for him from memory.
Because they were homologous potions, the Fake Illness Potion and the Antipyretic Potion shared many similar ingredients and preparation methods. However, the former was an ancient formula developed by a goddess herself. Regardless of the overlap, it still required seven or eight more exceptionally precious ingredients than the Antipyretic Potion.
Although Kelusta, a student who paid little attention in class, had no idea how expensive or rare those ingredients were, Wend's reaction when she told him—“I'll need a few days to prepare”—made it clear. Anything that could give the heir to a dukedom pause must be nigh impossible to acquire.
Setting aside the question of whether they could even brew the potion, the ingredients alone—so rare they were priceless—were enough to make Kelusta worry herself bald.
Fortunately, the Silentdis family was powerful and wealthy. Despite the difficulty, Wend had managed to gather all the necessary ingredients for the first day of brewing in the shortest possible time.
The remaining ingredients could be sourced as they progressed, which would save time.
Kelusta clumsily lit the stove and set up the crucible. Once the orange-red flames began to lick the bottom of the platinum vessel, she turned and, carefully following Wend's instructions, poured all the pale green Milkweed flower juice from the grinding bowl into the long-necked glass flask.
The liquid, containing fine bits of plant matter, sloshed inside the flask for a moment, splashing a few drops against the transparent inner wall.
While waiting for the crucible to heat, Kelusta finished her task and seemed to have finally calmed down. Having escaped her earlier embarrassment, she tried to strike up a conversation with Wend.
“Is there anything else I can help with?” she asked with a great deal of self-awareness. “It should probably be something extremely simple… otherwise, I'm very likely to mess it up.”
Her frankness made Wend glance at the brown-haired girl, who looked utterly unabashed. He raised an eyebrow slightly, pondered for a moment, then gave her a suitably easy task.
“The instructions say that after adding the Milkweed flower juice and powdered fig skin, you must immediately pour in fresh water at a three-to-one ratio.” Wend glanced, seemingly unintentionally, at Kelusta's brilliant, honey-colored eyes, then paused before slowly looking away. “The water in the potions classroom has cleaning agents in it; it's not pure enough,” he instructed calmly. “Go fetch some water from outside and have it ready.”
Kelusta blinked, looking very pleased with such a menial task. “Easy enough,” she said with a grin.
Then, she brazenly sat down on a chair in front of the workbench. Right under Wend's nose, she raised a finger and slowly drew a circle in the air. With a bent knuckle and a slight lift of her wrist, she made a clear beckoning gesture.
A few seconds later, Wend, who was standing near the door, heard the distant sound of running water.
His sapphire-blue eyes deepened slightly as he cast an imperceptible glance at the girl in the long dress. She stood by the crucible, hand raised, her posture relaxed and casual.
The smiling water mage tilted her arm slightly, and a long stream of water followed her movement. It deftly rounded a corner, flowed past the half-open classroom door like a transparent silk ribbon, and soared toward her pointing finger, landing without a single wasted drop in the small water basin she had prepared.
“There, all done!”
Kelusta clapped her hands and looked at Wend with a beaming, expectant smile, waiting for the renowned potions genius to offer a word or two of praise she could show off with later.
Wend obligingly met her gaze, his expression neutral. After they stared at each other for a long moment, he finally said slowly, “Your—”
Magic is amazing, your talent is incredible, you're a perfect match for my sister?
Kelusta's eyes widened. She perked up her ears, waiting with bated breath for the silver-haired boy's next words.
“…Your crucible is about to crack,” the unfeeling duke's second son said, ignoring the girl's tangible gaze that screamed “praise me.” His expression was blank. “Hurry and add the Milkweed flower juice. Fifteen seconds after that, add the powdered fig skin and the water. Mind the timing and proportions. Don't get it wrong.”
Kelusta: “…”
Hmph, men.
Gloria, who would praise and coax her, was truly the best. This creature known as a “younger brother” was completely hopeless. He was far more useful as a tool.
Kelusta—a heartless member of the exploiting class who had just accepted reality—secretly rolled her eyes. She dutifully followed Wend's instructions, picking up the long-necked flask filled with green liquid and beginning to pour the Milkweed flower juice into the crucible.
After shaking the very last drop of juice into the pot, she began to count the seconds. She held the jar of powdered fig skin in her left hand and a water ladle in her right, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the white crucible as it slowly began to bubble.
“Add the powder.”
A cool male voice suddenly spoke from behind her. Startled, Kelusta's hand jerked, and in the blink of an eye, she had dumped nearly half the jar of powder into the crucible, where it landed with a soft plop that broke one of the bubbles.
The next second, Wend moved with lightning speed, snatching the ladle from her hand. He swiftly bent down, scooped up a full measure of water, and without blinking, poured it into the crucible just as the Milkweed flower juice was about to consume the powder.
“Th-that…” Kelusta stammered, marveling at his fluid movements. “Isn't that too much water?”
The formula clearly stated that five hundred milliliters was enough, but by Kelusta's estimation, Wend had just added at least a hundred more.
Wouldn't that dilute the potion's efficacy? If she couldn't convincingly fake an illness, the whole plan would be a disaster.
However, history and experience teach us that a problem student who sleeps through class should never question a genius.
“Six hundred milliliters of water is the correct proportion for the excess fig skin powder you dumped in,” Wend said coldly. “Quite a generous move. That extra powder, now sunk in the potion, could have sold for at least five gold coins, conservatively speaking.”
Kelusta: “…S-sorry!”
Stop scolding me, stop scolding me, you're going to scold me stupid.
Wend shot her a cold smirk but didn't continue his mockery. He simply instructed, “Grind some more Milkweed flower juice and add it in a moment. The steps are a bit out of order, but it can still be salvaged. Try not to make the final product too unbearable to look at.”
Kelusta fell silent, her guilt palpable. With the attitude of someone who knew she was wrong, she immediately reached for the grinding bowl.
However, just as she tossed the Milkweed flowers into it, Wend, who had been silent for a moment, spoke again.
“…Actually, a long time ago, Gloria used to get startled by me all the time.”
This incredibly flat statement immediately captured Kelusta's attention. Under her very interested gaze, the silver-haired noble paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. “Back then, she wasn't very good at potions, either. When she helped me, she would always add too little of one thing or too much of another… just like you did.”
Having unintentionally dug up some dirt on the model student, Kelusta excitedly told the System, “Did you hear that? Even Gloria was helpless when it came to potions—so it's perfectly normal that someone of my intelligence can't handle it!”
…Is that your excuse?
The System prudently remained silent.
“…So, I always had to clean up her messes. Over time, I learned how to quickly find ways to fix a ruined potion,” Wend said, looking at the now-boiling crucible. He gestured with his chin for Kelusta to add the juice. Then his tone shifted. “But compared to potions, Gloria's real talent was for herbology.”
Herbology?
Oh—the one where you plant flowers all day.
“When Gloria was young, she seemed to possess some kind of magical power. Any flower or plant she personally planted would miraculously flourish with incredible vigor.”
“That sounds like something a wood mage could do,” Kelusta couldn't help but comment as she poured the flower juice into the crucible.
“…It is a bit like that,” Wend said, pausing. He watched her careful movements, his expression softening slightly at the mention of his sister. “It happened before I was old enough to remember… This strange ability of hers became the stuff of legend, so much so that it attracted the attention of an herbology scholar who had hit a research bottleneck—Master Lysa herself came to visit the Silentdis family.”
“Master Lysa?” Kelusta exclaimed in surprise. “Our herbology professor? The contemporary flower-growing master, Lysasa?”
Lysasa was a figure from a Nobili Kingdom folk tale, a female elf who loved tending to flowers and plants. According to the legend, she was the first adventurer to leave the elven forest and spent one hundred and ninety-nine years planting seeds across a continent so barren not a single blade of grass would grow. Though she tirelessly cared for them, her efforts came to nothing.
Elves live for exactly two hundred years. The tale concludes that just before Lysasa's death, the continent of Nobili finally welcomed its most beautiful spring. Within a single day, the barren land burst into a riot of colorful flowers, while grass and trees began to sprout. Accompanied by Lysasa's dying prayers to the Tree of Life, the desolate continent was transformed into a vibrant landscape.
For this, Lysasa earned the right to become a deity—the one later known as the Goddess of Life, who was aligned with the Goddess of Light.
No one knew if the legend was true, but the students of Holy Light Magic Academy were more than happy to popularize the name as a nickname for the ever-gentle Professor Lysa.
Wend raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on Kelusta's use of their professor's nickname. In fact, his tone was rather approving. “She is indeed much like the legendary Goddess of Life—in both personality and ability. During the time Master Lysa was a guest, Gloria followed her almost every day, cultivating medicinal herbs. Father told me that by the time the stubborn and earnest herbologist left, the ducal manor's greenhouse was filled with all manner of strange plants.”
Kelusta set down the grinding bowl and couldn't help but smile.
She didn't know why Wend had suddenly decided to tell her these old stories about Gloria, but that didn't stop a faint ripple from spreading through her heart. It was a gentle, ticklish feeling, as if someone had stirred the still lake of her soul with a feather, leaving her with a strange and subtle sensation.
In that instant, Kelusta suddenly realized that through Wend, she was becoming a part of Gloria's past.
Perhaps his tolerance earlier—when he saw the formula for the Fake Illness Potion, a recipe that could shock the entire continent, and didn't press for details—was because he had already sensed the extraordinary relationship between his sister and her.
“Gloria loved flowers back then, and she loved planting them herself even more,” Wend said softly. “On the nightstand in her bedroom, she kept a pot of Golden Beach Roses. She tended to it personally every day, and it bloomed year-round, releasing a refreshing fragrance that made one feel as if they were by the sea.”
Golden Beach Rose?
Kelusta froze.
The Golden Beach Rose was a specialty of the coastal regions of Nobili, famous for its unique growing environment and fresh scent. The towns along the western coastline all made a point to cultivate it.
But Wend had specifically mentioned a golden one…
In those days, there was likely only one place on the entire continent of Nobili where that color of beach rose grew—
—in the small flower garden in Seaside Town, personally tended by Kevit's mother.
Kelusta frowned slightly, her gaze probing Wend's. But his expression showed no trace of guilt or panic. Instead, it held a subtle, almost imperceptible expectation that only deepened Kelusta's suspicions. He continued, his tone ambiguous:
“Why don't you take a guess, Miss Breviou? Guess who it was that personally gave that potted flower to Gloria.”
Comments
Post a Comment