Chapter 461
Chapter 461
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 461
Chapter Title: Perfume (2)
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After more than a hundred wagons had come and gone,
the once-quiet warehouse was flooded with roses.
Lush red roses, so abundant it seemed faster to weigh them than count them, filled the empty workshop to the brim.
Hours of delivery later, the roses lay piled high atop the white cloth spread across the floor.
Without magic, it would have taken a full three days just to haul them all inside.
Siwoo picked up one plump flower.
"How many is this, exactly?"
"Around twenty thousand per wagon."
"That's well over five million..."
In this freezing dead of winter, far from rose season, who would believe five million roses? But it was possible.
That was Gehenna, the witches' city, for you.
Flowers had long been cultivated year-round in the sacred gardens of the spirit mountains—concentrated embodiments of life force, essential for countless alchemical pursuits and magical experiments.
Even so, this sheer volume felt like they'd uprooted an entire hillside garden.
"Do we really need this many?"
Siwoo tossed the rose—its petals so densely packed it felt heavy—back into the heap as he asked.
It still seemed like too much, no matter how he looked at it.
He worried Amelia might have miscalculated and ordered excessively.
Not that a grand witch of the twenty-third hierarchy would fumble basic math, but her quirks from past and present lives made him double-check anyway.
"Distilling ten thousand roses yields one drop of essential oil."
"One drop?"
"Yes, 1mL."
Siwoo had sighed in relief upon hearing the perfume's price tag, but now he fretted over production costs.
Amelia's perfumes used essential oils extracted from natural sources, not common synthetic fragrances.
Was it his surprised expression that amused her? Or the joy of sharing her knowledge?
Amelia flashed a dainty smile and tugged Siwoo's hand.
"I'll show you how to extract it too. It'll be fun."
She led him to a massive distillation apparatus in the east wing.
Three copper cylinders, each taller than Siwoo, stood in a row, linked by long tubes—a continuous distiller.
Every component was copper, renowned as the finest material for distillation.
Though notoriously finicky to maintain.
It didn't quite fit Gehenna's vibe.
More suited to a steampunk world, if anything.
Amelia stood before the machine—twice her height—and twisted valves, checking its state.
Then she levitated a crate from the corner.
Inside sat a massive glass bottle, large enough for dozens of liters.
"Don't tell me this is mana water?"
"Exactly."
Of course, mana water wasn't cheap either.
If all those stacked crates were mana water for perfume production, the exorbitant bottle prices suddenly made sense.
Stuffed full of premium ingredients, they had no choice but to cost a fortune.
"There are methods like cold infusion, maceration, expression, and solvent extraction for oils, but I mainly use distillation."
With that, Amelia poured mana water into the first tank.
One bottle barely made a dent in the massive tank. With Siwoo's help, twenty bottles filled it halfway.
Peering inside revealed additional magical mechanisms etched within.
Mana water didn't normally vaporize or solidify with heat, so the "distillation" label suggested inscribed magic circles.
Next came filling the second tank to the brim with roses.
Siwoo figured his telekinesis had improved, but it paled next to Amelia's.
Tens of thousands of roses streamed in orderly fashion, packing the tank perfectly.
After sealing the lid, Amelia continued.
"First, heat vaporizes the mana water in the initial tank. The hot steam travels through the tube to the second."
She traced the L-shaped pipe with her finger.
"The steam sprays into the second tank, passing through the flowers and absorbing their essence."
"We adjust pressure via the valve here. High pressure yields sweet, velvety rose notes from the intense steam. Low pressure preserves fresh, vibrant tones with cooler steam."
"Whoa, that's neat."
"Right? The fragrant steam collects above, flows to the third tank, and condenses back to liquid via the cooling coil."
"We then separate the liquid into oil and mana water. The water recycles to the first tank."
It resembled a boiler or an elaborate coffee machine.
Amelia fiddled with a few valves, and soon the room brimmed with floral aroma.
"Roses today, jasmine tomorrow for more essential oils..."
"You're gonna be swamped."
"Yeah, for a while."
At least the mana water recycled, easing raw material worries.
Anyway, Siwoo helped Amelia finalize the setup and start boiling the roses.
He'd thought from her description it'd be like simmering bone broth—simmer and wait.
Reality proved far more hands-on.
Amelia constantly monitored gauges, tweaking valves, venting excess steam through nozzles—meticulously controlling temperature and pressure.
Siwoo's role? Conveyor belt.
Emptying spent roses from the second tank, refilling with fresh.
"Siwoo."
Mid-frenzy shuttling between distillers, Amelia beckoned.
There she was, crouched by the final tank's exposed glass tube.
"Wanna come see?"
The oil squeezed from tens of thousands of roses.
After cooling and separation, pure essential oil dripped in pristine drops.
Siwoo crouched beside her, watching it collect in a tiny vial.
"The scent... it's overwhelming."
"Isn't it?"
Amelia beamed at him, delighted.
Each drop sent ripples through the vial, unleashing a thick haze of fragrance—like swimming through the rose pile itself—flooding his senses.
But that leisurely moment was fleeting.
If this were dainty perfume crafting, they could've savored the slow-dripping oil in cozy intimacy.
Mass production on a factory scale allowed no such luxury.
After nonstop work—truly twenty-four hours straight—they extracted just shy of 1L of essential oil.
2.
To switch essential oils in the same distiller required a reset: hours heating mana water alone to purge residues.
Lest unwanted scents mingle.
Machines needed rest, as did people.
Thus, thirty-two hours after starting the rose extraction, Siwoo and Amelia took their first break.
Their respite? The new perfume shop Sophia had crafted in Malkuth Gallery.
Tucked in an obscure corner of the bustling district—'a shop here?'—a four-story building wedged between neighbors.
Narrow width belied Gehenna's knack for charming architecture; it exuded cozy allure.
Step inside, though, and the vibe shifted dramatically.
Polished marble floors so glossy they mirrored panties.
Sturdy, elegant counters of ebony wood.
Petite yet lavish chandeliers swaying with candlelight symphony.
If the world's smallest palace existed, wouldn't it look like this? Capping the opulent interior: perfume flacons on shelves.
Empty bottles gleamed, reflecting candle flames—valuable even sans contents.
Forget exquisite glasswork; the adorning precious metals and gems were unmistakably genuine.
Curtain-shrouded stairs behind the counter led upward, revealing floors two and three.
First floor evoked a noblewoman's cosmetics boutique; two and three felt familiar.
Identical to Amelia's academy research lab from her teaching days.
Thousands of vials—from massive carafes to tiny ampoules—brimming with oils painstakingly produced over decades.
Inherited from her mentor, apparently.
Finally, Siwoo reached the fourth-floor lodging.
Less flashy than below—private space, after all.
Simple one-room: wooden floors and walls, bed, bath, sofa.
Siwoo collapsed onto the sofa.
"You worked hard all day. Thank you, Siwoo."
"No need. You were the busy one, Amelia."
Truth be told, Siwoo's tasks were rote labor.
Remove flowers, refill, remove, refill.
Occasionally flipping warehouse heaps to prevent bottom roses crushing.
In his magic-poor days, it'd have been backbreaking—lethal volume.
Now? Mildly tedious assembly-line drudgery.
Still, the monotony wore on the mind.
Amelia, by contrast, darted tirelessly: checking gauges, adjusting valves, swapping coolant.
Remarkable: not a hint of exhaustion on her face.
Made sense. Amelia was a master of repetition and patience.
Such steadfastness let her research magic solo for over a century.
"It was my job anyway."
"Your job is mine too."
Stated matter-of-factly, yet Amelia smiled—surprised, pleased.
Come to think, they'd barely conversed amid the frenzy.
Had to be that hectic.
"Even empty words make me happy."
Her cheeks cupped, voicing honest joy—it hit Siwoo square, leaving him speechless.
He mumbled awkwardly.
"Not empty."
"Then I can be even happier."
Rose scent permeated their clothes fully.
Olfaction dulls quickest to stimuli.
Escaping the flower-shop haze into the room, they finally noticed petals shedding like dust.
"......"
"......"
Scent shapes mood profoundly.
In the narrow space thick with loving, sultry fragrance, they gazed wordlessly.
This must be natural magnetism.
Siwoo caught her eyes on his lips, drew closer—their newfound intimacy these past days shrinking further.
Amelia rose on tiptoe, waist coiling around him.
As if spellbound, lips neared naturally.
Then—
Knock knock knock.