SMMA 61

Episode 61

That the students had become so utterly distrustful was surprising.

But curiosity is curiosity. Professor Thunderstep couldn’t resist and sought out his so-called protégé.

“Wadanaz.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“You’ll believe me, won’t you?”

Surely if he had believed Ingerdel, he would believe him too!

Ihan nodded solemnly.
“Yes! Of course I believe you! How could I ever doubt you, Professor?”

“…Just say you don’t believe me, damn boy.”

Thunderstep scowled. It was somehow more irritating than outright distrust—so cloying, that insincere politeness.

“But really—you didn’t see a single bull? Cost me dearly to prepare them… so why did mud golems appear instead?”

“…Wait. What are you saying?”

Professor Ingerdel had caught the words and his face tensed.

Thunderstep coughed hastily, scrambling.
“Haha… Misunderstanding, Professor Ingerdel. I, ah, prepared both bulls and mud golems. But it seems… the bulls wandered off somewhere.”

“……”

The icy stare of a swordsman—a far more dangerous opponent than any mage—made Thunderstep sweat.

Flustered, he yanked Ihan close.
“Wadanaz! You tell him! Who do you think arranged those golems?”

“……”

The contradiction stunned Ihan, but he played along. He saw the desperation in Thunderstep’s eyes.

“Of course, it must have been you, Professor.”

“There, see? Even sharp Wadanaz says so. Surely you believe me now, Ingerdel.”

“I see. But do you call mud golems fit trials for first-years?”

“……”

When Thunderstep looked for his ally again… Ihan was already fleeing back to his friends.

On Saturday, instead of wandering outside or exploring mysteries, the Blue Dragon Tower students buried themselves in the lounge, drowning under the mountain of tasks piled through the week.

“Damn it… what flaw is this logic hiding? Come to think of it, the very fact that nobility like me must struggle through this book is flaw enough!”
“Agh! How am I supposed to know how much a magic circle installation costs? Just take leftover family gold, stingy bastards…!”

They clutched their heads in despair.

Assignments were nearly impossible to settle straightforwardly.

Thus, the snacks piled in Ihan’s pantry had sold rapidly. Eventually tired, he simply set a basket by the fireplace, with prices scrawled on cards:

Apple candies — 1 silver
Apricot jam cookies — 2 silver
Meikin family chocolate bar — 4 silver
Sugared tea — 1 silver
…

Expensive. But no one complained.

They knew well: such luxuries might vanish any day. Meanwhile, Black Turtle Tower survived on fake biscuits, fake candies, fake gum.

“Hmph, you have it easy because you never took alchemy.”
“My alchemy work feels like dessert compared to your whining.”

Some alchemy takers even bragged shamelessly, radiating smugness as if they had slain dragons.

“Those fools… we all know Ihan did the work.”
“Leave them. Poor devils. They fought mud golems.”
“A class assigning a golem battle—that’s insanity.”

Others endured in silence, out of loyalty and friendship.

They lull themselves into thinking they’ll escape. But madness comes for all in this school.

“Orc blossom, plus crest-shrooms… right?”
“Ugh, the stench! Is this really right?”

Alchemy students huddled around cauldrons, brewing the set assignment: “Lesser Spirit Affinity Potion.” Ingredients gathered—but their combining was a mess.

Gathering herbs was half. Mixing was the other half. With limited supplies, every tremor of the hand intensified stakes.

Bang!
“Gyaaah!”
Pop! Puff!
“Argh!”

Smoke spewed skyward.

“Wait.” Ihan stretched a hand, halting them.

He had noticed something: Even careful workmakers failed. Explosions regardless of technique.

Something wasn’t right.

“Professor Thunderstep… gave us the wrong recipe?”

A chill swept the room.

“No way…”
“No—it makes sense! One hundred percent!”

Once, such words would’ve been rejected. Now the students trusted suspicion first.

“He purposely tricked us?!”
“Unbelievable!”

Their anger surged. But Ihan and Yonellia focused.

Assignments had to be solved, fury aside.

“Let’s test the recipe step by step. Yonellia, anything stand out?”

“The devil’s-beard, troll fungi, malenne, jade-dragonflower. As far as I know, none connect to spirits. Could be red herrings. Likely only one or two. But possible secondary roles—enhancing mana, focusing the mind.”

Ihan marveled at her clarity. As a boy he had studied markets and penmanship, but she had lived in alchemical tomes.

Perhaps I should’ve read herbs instead of stock reports.

“To omit them one by one is fastest—but then we lack ingredients…”

So why the fake recipe?

“Maybe he wanted us to compare old texts. To discover the truth ourselves.” Yonellia sighed.

And in that moment, Ihan understood.

Self-found truth lasts longer.

A chill coursed his back. He was… thinking exactly like one of their mad professors.

Too much staring into the abyss, and I become the abyss.

Shaking it off, he declared, “Books will waste the whole weekend. And no—I’m going out tomorrow.”

The iron conviction in his eyes startled her.

Was she… moved, by his fierce resolve to keep a holiday?

He gathered the students.

“Stop independent brewing. Combine supplies. Conduct large-batch tests. We’ll also draw on other towers’ stock.”

Gasps spread.

“Brilliant.” Asan whispered.

“If others join, they’ll spot what I might miss,” Yonellia added.

“Priestess Siana. She should join.”
“But will she, Phoenix Tower?”
“She praised Wadanaz endlessly. If he asks…”

Leaving their chatter behind, Ihan walked out in calm resolve. His back radiated iron will: His holy day would not be stolen.

“Please, Wadanaz!”
“We’re counting on you!”
“And invite the Princess too!”

“Seriously? You can’t do that yourselves?”

“She’s royalty…”
“Only you speak with her well enough.”

He sighed. Typical.

Later, cries echoed behind him:

“Agh! Gainando, you miscalculated!!”
“No—you were wrong!”
“Liar! Look at your formula—”

Ihan groaned. These clowns…

He called at last:
“Princess—it is Wadanaz.”

Her hopeful glance darted toward his hands—finding no sweets. Her shoulders slumped, though she nodded dutifully and came.

Ihan bit guilt. Next time, always bring something…

Then Phoenix Tower.

Unlike the extravagance of Dragon Tower, it stood solemn, reverent.

He approached—only to be repelled by unseen wards.

Of course. No outsider may enter.

“Lord Wadanaz?”

Familiar voice. Snake-featured priestess, garbed in robes, approached with a tilt of her head.

Ihan beamed instantly.

“The brilliant healer of wondrous potion fame—Priestess Siana!”

“Oh please… such flattery.”

“It is not flattery. Only fact.”

She glowed. “I brewed again. Please take this—it will ease fatigue.”

She smiled, handing him a potion.