Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: License (2)
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The exam hall resembled a massive cooking lab at first glance.
Stainless steel worktables were lined up in neat rows. On each one sat burners, beakers, distillation equipment, and other basic alchemy tools prepared for the examinees.
About twenty examinees stood at their assigned stations. The bustling energy from the waiting room had vanished completely.
In the heavy silence, the sound of someone gulping dryly echoed.
Park Gibeom, stationed at worktable 7, instinctively checked over his equipment.
'Not bad.'
He confirmed the scale was zeroed out and gave the burner’s gas valve a slight turn.
It was a familiar feel—the standard-issue gear he’d handled countless times at the academy.
As he inspected the beaker, he glanced around. Most of the examinees looked visibly tense. Some were fumbling about, unsure what to do first.
'Amateurs.'
Park Gibeom’s lips twisted into a smirk.
The limits of idiots who’d coasted on nothing but academy lessons.
For this day, he’d slaved away at odd jobs in workshops, peeking at real production processes.
His skills had surpassed those of an average 3rd-grade examinee long ago. Even the academy instructors had praised him, saying there was nothing more they could teach.
This moment was merely a stage to prove himself.
His gaze naturally drifted to the station next to him.
The guy who’d shown up right after him in the waiting room—Han Yujin—was at worktable 8.
His hands moved awkwardly as he checked the provided equipment, like he’d never touched standard gear before. He was obviously a total newbie.
'Self-taught, huh.'
Park Gibeom snorted.
What could be more ridiculous than learning alchemy on your own?
Theory wasn’t everything.
Processing materials, mixing ratios and order, verifying combinations with all five senses.
Alchemy was a rigorous practical discipline, honed through endless trial and error.
He must’ve studied hard to pass the written exam and read plenty of books. But without experience? That was his limit.
“Alright, everyone, pay attention.”
A low voice rang out in the hall. The examinees, who’d been shuffling about, froze and looked to the front.
Two proctors—a man and a woman—wearing name tags stood at the front of the room.
The female proctor addressed the now-quiet examinees.
“Before we begin, I’ll go over some precautions. The exam lasts 90 minutes total. The rule is to complete your assignments within that time.”
She continued in a flat tone.
“Once time’s up, you must stop immediately. Failure to comply may result in disqualification, so be warned. Also...”
Responsibility for accidents, various disqualification reasons, and so on.
While the proctors droned on, Park Gibeom leaned back with his arms crossed leisurely. He already knew it all.
Perhaps losing focus during the long spiel, one examinee in the back unconsciously reached for the materials basket.
“Number 14 there.”
It was the male proctor, who’d been silent until now. He strode toward worktable 14.
The woman paused her explanation to watch. In the spotlight stood a chubby man, frozen stiff.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Uh, just checking the materials...”
“With your bare hands?”
The proctor glared coldly.
“Touching materials without gloves, without even washing your hands? Before the exam’s even started?”
“N-no, I was just gonna check for a second... Sorry! I won’t do it again...”
“Out.”
Number 14’s face drained of color. The proctor mercilessly pointed to the door.
“If you can’t follow the absolute basics, there’s no point watching. Disqualified. Leave.”
“P-please, just this once! It was a mistake! I beg you!”
“Escort him out.”
At the proctor’s signal, two security personnel waiting nearby grabbed the man’s arms.
Number 14 struggled and protested his innocence, but the guards dragged him out with blank expressions.
Thud.
The door shut, and his cries faded down the hall.
The exam hall fell deathly silent. The remaining examinees were pale as ghosts.
The proctors had the authority to disqualify anyone on the spot.
They realized they could be booted from the room at any moment, regardless of completing the assignments.
Park Gibeom scoffed inwardly.
'Idiot.'
Even 3rd-grade academy classes hammered hygiene into your head until your ears bled.
No surprise how that nitpicky 2nd-grade alchemist saw it.
Park Gibeom watched the returning proctor with admiring eyes.
They weren’t like the name-only 3rd-grades.
2nd-grades—true alchemists—were forged under a Meister’s guidance for years.
The female proctor cleared her throat, drawing attention again. She read from the paper in her hand.
“Here’s the exam assignment: Gray Moss Potion, Hemostat Herb Potion, and... Low-grade Petrification Inhibitor.”
She paused there, lifting her eyes from the page. She scanned the room before concluding calmly.
“Three in total.”
The examinees gasped in unison. Even Park Gibeom couldn’t help furrowing his brow.
90 minutes meant one every 30 minutes.
Even accounting for the basic potions, time was razor-thin.
“Complete all assignments within the limit, and as long as the effects are verifiable—quality doesn’t matter—you pass. Any questions?”
The shock lingered; no one spoke up. Park Gibeom mulled over her words in silence.
“You there.”
The proctor’s eyes turned his way. Park Gibeom flinched, thinking she meant him, but she aimed elsewhere.
“Number 8, what’s your question?”
Park Gibeom shot an awkward glance sideways. Han Yujin had his hand half-raised, unnoticed until now.
“The 90-minute limit—does it include submission and inspection time, or just pure production?”
The proctor frowned.
“Production only, obviously. Evaluation happens after the 90 minutes, all at once.”
“Do we have to use the full time?”
“...What do you mean?”
“Anyone finished and inspected early can leave, right?”
Icy silence descended. Everyone stared at Han Yujin like he was insane.
The proctor fixed him with a cold stare before replying.
“You seem awfully confident. Unfortunately, early exit isn’t allowed.”
Han Yujin shrugged regretfully at the firm answer. Park Gibeom gawked at him in disbelief.
'...What a lunatic.'
Not content with finishing all three in 90 minutes—he wanted inspection too?
Even the proctors wouldn’t bet on it. No 3rd-grade examinee would joke about that.
Whatever he was thinking, if the goal was to draw aggro, it worked. Both proctors’ eyes were glued to him.
Tick-tock. The clock struck the hour.
All eyes turned to the proctors’ mouths. After a heartbeat of tension, the words came.
“Begin.”
Clatter!
With the signal, pent-up noise erupted. Examinees scrambled, but none dared touch materials rashly. Lesson from 14.
Park Gibeom tuned out Han Yujin, gloving up in the meantime.
He grabbed the gray moss, tossed it in the mortar, and ground it skillfully.
'Process and refine just enough.'
Even though the powder wasn’t finely ground, he sped to the next step.
'There was a hint.'
The proctor’s words: quality doesn’t matter. That was the key.
As long as it worked, it was fine. Meticulous academy methods wouldn’t fit the time.
His pioneering pace caught on late. Other examinees hurried to imitate him.
Park Gibeom already had a pot on the burner, entering the mixing phase.
With time to spare until it boiled, he finally looked around.
He was in the lead. Satisfied, he smirked—then glanced at the next station.
Han Yujin was still fiddling with the mortar, stuck in processing.
He reflexively sneered, but frowned slightly. On closer look, finished powder was piled in the bowl.
Unlike him, Han Yujin had processed all materials first before moving on.
'Not bad...'
Focused on grinding meticulously, he hadn’t grasped the exam’s true intent.
But his skill wasn’t dismissible as self-taught amateur. His hands moved with practiced ease, suggesting plenty of experience.
Han Yujin finished another powder batch, scraped it into the bowl, rinsed the mortar and pestle, and repeated.
By then, even the proctors’ eyes had shifted from him. They’d hoped for a slip-up, but his movements were surprisingly precise.
He wasn’t alone in processing all materials first. Others tried it too, but some couldn’t dodge the proctors’ scrutiny.
A guy who’d scraped powder into a bowl then immediately loaded the next material drew a proctor.
“Number 17, disqualified.”
“Wh-what?”
“Washing tools before the next material is basic of basics. No need to say more. Out.”
Rushed examinees racked up mistakes, and the proctors pounced.
Empty stations multiplied one by one.
'Gray Moss Potion done.'
A quick clock check: just over 20 minutes. Park Gibeom pulled the next material.
Hemostat Herb Potion for clotting. Plenty of time. He proceeded calmly, reviewing steps.
Into the second mixing phase. He set a pot on the burner and lit it. Watching the solution heat slowly, he turned—and his eyes widened.
'Th-that crazy bastard!'
Han Yujin was placing three pots on the burners.