SMMA 46

Episode 46

“Snrrrrt, snrrrt…”

“You want to rest?” Ihan halted when the white horse let out a weary snort.

The beast that had been so vicious before now sought to communicate, which delighted him.

We’re bonding at last!

“Alright. Drink some water, have some sugar too.”

“Snrrrt…”

The horse hated to admit it, but it felt itself yielding bit by bit to this boy.

“Snrrrt!”

Then suddenly its eyes flared wide. The ancient wild blood running in its veins stirred its pride.

No—I will not submit so easily!

Ihan, watching, muttered seriously, “How do I increase the amount of mana drained?”

“…Snrrrt.”

Lowering its eyes, the beast dropped its head again in resignation.

Though he’d risen early to tend the horses, classes did not wait. Tired, hungry or not, he had to shake himself awake and head to the next lesson.

As his friends of the Black Turtle Tower prepared to return, Ihan handed each a tin of beef and a jar of pickled cucumbers.

Nillia, receiving hers, beamed—then immediately fumbled her pockets nervously.

“??”

“I-I don’t have any money…”

“It’s a gift.”

He reflected a little. Maybe I’m going too far…

“Really? You’re sure? Absolutely?”

“Think carefully if this is really worth questioning.”

With ears perked, Nillia accepted and tucked it away.

Ratford, however, refused firmly.
“I cannot accept this.”

“……”

Nillia hesitated—Do I need to return mine too?

“It’s an order.”

“Then I accept.”

Relieved, she thought, Thank goodness…!

When they’d gone, Ihan turned to Yonellia.

“Surprising reactions. Was I too harsh?”

“No? Why?”

“I see. Good.”

A fleeting thought crossed him—Perhaps I should ask someone besides Yonellia if I want an objective answer… But he dropped it.

“Let’s eat. Yonellia, the early risers will be in the lounge. Shall we make them breakfast? Help note it in the ledger?”

“Of course.”

The two were delighted to share a hearty breakfast with peers—though not without taking payment, naturally.

Ihan spread mustard across sliced bread and placed it upon a plate. The freshmen lounge’s hearth was a faithful companion to all. On the pan he cracked eggs next to sizzling bacon.

The aroma filled the air.

Why do bloodlines matter so much?

He wasn’t cooking for himself, nor even for his fellow students.

This breakfast was for the princess resting in her private chamber.

“Wadanaz, we’ll pay in silvers. Could you deliver another meal to Her Highness today?”
“Please, Lord Wadanaz!”

He agreed only because of the coin, yet he couldn’t understand.

Power ought to be entrusted by the people, not come from some “mystical ancient bloodline.” Why were nobles so pampered?

Even Gainan survived stoutly on his own, making it to the lounge for food daily. That’s real survival skill.

This excessive care might actually harm the princess more than help.

Knock, knock, knock—

“?”

The door opened. Adenart appeared, as before.

Ihan shrugged and held out the plate.
“I cooked downstairs.”

He thought Adenart’s expression warmed ever so slightly. Perhaps it was only the sunlight.

Receiving the dish, the princess bowed her head briefly, then went inside.

Before, she ate outside. She’s grown, then.

Descending the stairs, Ihan pondered.

It seemed the princess had followers in other towers as well. If he negotiated, perhaps each would pay separately?

Incredible. Such a devilish scheme—yet my own!

The thought thrilled him. By graduation, might he amass enough to open a private workshop of his own?

“Strange. Why not outside today?”

“Don’t be fooled—they may have hidden monsters inside.”

The class Understanding Basic Alchemy was held not outdoors nor in the main hall but in one of the annexes, the Horn-Star Pavilion.

The presence of greenhouses kept it warm within. But no one was deceived—indoors was no guarantee of safety.

“Gather close! Just in case monsters appear!”
“Your Highness, stand by us—we’ll protect you.”

“……”

Ihan sighed. The princess was also of the Blue Dragon Tower, yet other towers clung to her as though she were solely theirs.

“Fear not, Wadanaz. We’ll not lose to them,” grinned Asan Dalkard.

Ihan’s own group had grown: himself, Yonellia, Asan, and Nillia.

By quality, they matched any rival cohort.

“Sit, all of you.”

Professor Thunderstep came in yawning, his face worn with fatigue.

“Professor, why indoors today?”

“What? It’s alchemy! Should we not?”

He gave the student a scornful look. The boy stammered, “But last time you said—alchemy needs gathering ingredients outside—”

“That was when gathering ingredients, you fool. Would you also brew elixirs under the sky? Stiff-necked dolt.”

Glancing around, he smirked. “Yes, you all wondered the same. Worry not. Unlike outdoor alchemy, indoor class is safe and pleasant.”

Lies.
Lies.
Only fools believe that.

The students were not deceived. Catching their stares, Thunderstep grinned wider.

“Now! Fill the cauldrons. Alchemy is a synthesis: gathering, heating, stirring. Yet brewing potions is especially vital—for wasting gathered reagents proves you’ll never be a true alchemist. Open your books! Today—you will craft a Lesser Mana Recovery Potion!”

Flutter—pages filled the hall.

This will be difficult.

At first glance, alchemy seemed easier than other magic. Merely follow instructions step by step, no incantations required.

But Ihan quickly grasped the deception. Alchemy resembled rushing to cook a complex dish—many steps at once, no pause, no misstep.

—Trim the stem of galamardu, cut thumb-length pieces. Simultaneously shred snow-leaf herb by hand before galamardu dries. Boil the cut galamardu for three minutes; the herb for two and a half. Grind a red mana stone into powder, add exactly when broth turns green. If it shifts orange, stir clockwise three times, counterclockwise three, then from north to south five times…

Everything had to be prepared fresh, never beforehand. Every motion memorized, no time to peer at text during work. Every detail excruciatingly specific, all done at speed.

Your mind would cramp from the strain.

Pop! Fsssshhh!

Of course, explosions burst across the room. Smoke and stench filled the air as students coughed.

Thunderstep laughed merrily. Nothing was more delightful than fledglings choking in their failures.

If not now, when can I enjoy this sight?

“…?”

Yet he stopped short—staring at one cauldron.

That boy… why is he doing so well?

The Wadanaz child moved with perfection. Herbs chopped with mechanical precision, herbs dropped in flawlessly, hourglasses flipped, powders poured—all in fluid sequence.

Has he worked in a workshop ten years already?

Thunderstep shook his head violently. Truly, genius existed in the world.

Otherwise how could Ihan, at his first attempt, display movements so flawless?

“I swear on my ancestors’ whiskers—no one would ever believe what I see.”

But it wasn’t genius. It was the bitter harvest of years ground under professors’ drills.

Ihan’s cauldron deepened to a pure sapphire hue. Complete.

Then—Ihan tasted it, frowned, and dumped it out.

“???”

Thunderstep gaped. Why discard perfection?

Ihan remade it. Again, flawless. Again, deep sapphire potion. Again, he tasted, frowned, and discarded.

“……”

Thunderstep, who never intervened, could not resist.

He slipped closer. “Why do you keep discarding?”

“It doesn’t restore mana.”

“What?”

He double-checked the text. The method was correct.

“What???”

Made perfectly—yet no effect?

“Make it again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ihan brewed once more.

This time, Thunderstep himself seized it and drank. The blue liquid slid down, instantly converting to mana, flooding his body.

Even if he had brewed it himself, he could have done no better.

“It works fine.”

“Really?”

Ihan sipped again, frowned, and shook his head.
“It’s lacking.”

“……”

Thunderstep quaked. Was the boy implying he knew a method superior to the professor’s own?

“No… my pride…!”

“Ah. It’s because my mana was already full.”

“……”