Alchemy Conference (5)
Passersby glanced my way, murmuring, Who's that woman? My current appearance was a bit ridiculous. I'd wrapped my tail tightly around my body and secured it with cloth, making my hips stick out awkwardly. I'd pressed my ears flat against my head with my hair and fastened a headband over them, but it wasn't perfect—the hat floated up conspicuously. Still, the stares weren't as intense as yesterday. Mages, after all, tend to lack social graces and pay little attention to others. I knew that better than anyone. For the first time in my life, I felt a strange sense of relief as I walked on.
The conference drew mages from far and wide—obsessed fools itching to flaunt their paltry skills before their peers. Objectively speaking, not knowing one's own limits was utterly shameful. Suddenly, I was seized by an urge to crush their arrogance. It was innate, something I couldn't control.
The audience consisted entirely of mages inside the hotel. Once you'd checked in at the desk, no one cared who entered the lecture halls. I pulled the timetable from my pocket and scanned it.
— Gray Tower's Dekir: Genetic Properties of Mana Waves and Alchemical Methodology —
Dekir should have some decent research results to show. He was one of the few mages I acknowledged as somewhat competent. Though whether he'd ever reach my knee was doubtful.
One of the lecture halls on the basement level. A fair number of mages sat with serious expressions, listening intently. Dekir, the middle-aged mage in gray robes, was in the midst of a fervent speech. The lecture had just begun.
"Mages each possess a unique mana wave. That's common knowledge."
Dekir scattered two vials of refined mana into the air. Purple and yellow mana spread softly, filling the space. I slipped cautiously through the back door and took a seat in the far corner of the large hall.
The room was dimly lit.
"Yet until now, we've only recognized that each mana wave is 'different.'"
Mm-hm. A few mages nodded. I recalled the fact myself. Unique mana waves. The magic restraint choker I'd praised was designed to unlock only with my mana wave. Damn it all.
"Even between parents and children, mana waves differ. I wondered if there might be some connection."
Dekir discussed the lack of objective metrics to quantify mana waves. He was right. They differed, but by how much? No one knew.
"I used a reagent that reacts to specific mana waves. Extracted from black bat fruit, this reagent astonishingly remembers the first mana wave it encounters—permanently."
Dekir levitated two small vials of gray liquid.
"The potion made with this reagent, I've named it mana detection potion. I conducted two experiments."
Quite an impressive presentation. Dekir from the Gray Tower had the audience completely captivated, owning the atmosphere.
"First, I passed father and mother mana through separate potions. One retains the father's wave, the other the mother's."
Dekir uncorked both vials. The liquid gathered in midair via his spatial magic, floating weightlessly like in zero gravity.
"What happens if we infuse mana extracted from their child?"
Dekir drew brown mana from another vial. Child's mana, he explained. The brown mana slowly moved toward the gray potions that had already absorbed the parents' waves. The audience held their breath. Everyone sensed the impossibility—or possibility. My heart raced as I watched.
"Incredibly... Huh? Why is this...?"
But the gray liquid turned black the instant the brown mana touched it. Dekir stammered, flustered. Clearly not the result he'd expected.
"Wha...? This can't be... Please wait a moment, everyone..."
Hoping against hope, I quickly skimmed the paper in front of me. It didn't take long to spot the issue. I hesitated. Should I step in? Or not? Meanwhile, Dekir sweated profusely, muttering, This isn't right, over and over. The audience began to murmur. What the hell?Just give up. This was a chance to become the star of the show. Anyone—especially a mage—would be thrilled. I convinced myself. Nothing bad will happen. Ariel wouldn't hold back here. No, she couldn't.
From the back of the lecture hall, a cloaked mage stood. Most of the audience were men, so this mage appeared relatively small. She walked slowly toward the stage. Thud, thud. Whispers rippled through the crowd. What's that mage doing?Who knows? Doesn't even look like one. From the dark seats into the bright stage light, the petite mage ascended. And in a clear, refreshing voice, she spoke.
"Mr. Dekir. There's one error in your research."
"What...? Are you saying my research is flawed?"
Dekir still believed it was some external factor causing the failure. The small mage took his arm. He flinched momentarily.
"In the potion preparation, you injected too much of your own mana. Let me help. Shall we extract your mana from the potion?"
The small mage used Dekir's mana to precisely readjust the potion—touching neither the father's nor mother's infused mana, only removing what Dekir had used in creation. The audience watched, entranced. Even a magic restraint choker wouldn't interfere with magic activated by another's mana. After some focused effort, the blackened liquid regained its gray hue.
"Now, try again?"
The small mage smiled brightly. The audience couldn't see it well, but Dekir flushed at the sight—whether from shame or excitement, who could say. She prompted him.
"Not going to?"
"Ah, no. I'll try again."
The remaining child mana—the brown wave—moved into the gray potion once more. And finally, the gray liquid shone with brilliant silver light. Like the moon in the night sky, the silver mana filled the hall. The audience stared, dumbfounded. Dekir gaped blankly. The small mage poked his arm. Finish the presentation.
"Uh... So... In conclusion, that's it. A child's mana wave inherits half from each parent—half from the father, half from the mother."
"And?"
"And... In tests with grandchildren, they retained 25% from each grandparent. Personal experiments."
Dekir, flustered by the ordeal, nonetheless resumed like the seasoned researcher he was. The small mage smiled faintly, satisfied at last.
"I see. Then I'll be going."
She gave a slight bow to the still-dazed Dekir and walked out the back door. Now the audience buzzed not about the results, but the small mage. Who was that?How'd she know something we didn't?No idea. The small mage exited through the back door. Clenching her tiny fist, she wiggled her hips, trying to shake her rigidly bound tail. Hehe. The small mage chuckled softly. And one man watched her retreating figure the entire time—from when she stood, to when she left. Lucas, Lord of the Red Tower, had observed the small mage intently. As she passed by, he glimpsed her face beneath the cloak. Her unforgettable beauty—one etched firmly in memory—gave her away instantly. That slave. Lucas wanted her more than ever. What kind of bitch is she, spotting an error even I and Dekir missed? He scanned the hall. No Ariel. He didn't know where Ariel was, but this was his chance. Lucas turned to his junior beside him.
As Lord of the Red Tower, he commanded: Capture that small mage who just left and drag her to my room—
"Pardon? Is that okay?"
His junior asked. True to the rude nickname Ariel had given him, Lucas snapped rudely.
"Grab her now and haul her to my room—!"
Hehe. That was too much fun. Stepping into the spotlight like that—it's exhilarating. Once you're hooked, it's hard to quit. I hurried back to our room, buzzing with excitement. Terria probably hasn't returned yet. I'm in such a good mood, I feel like I could do anything for him right now. That said, children inheriting their parents' mana waves? Fascinating results. I pondered what I could do with that knowledge.
Basement level. First floor. Then up the stairs from the second to the third. Two sets of footsteps on the stairs. Two...?
Thwack.
My head spun suddenly. A dull impact struck the back of my skull.
"Ah...?"
Stars exploded in my vision. Spinning. Nausea rose from my gut. Ughhh. But nothing came from my throat. I'd passed out cold. Who the hell—
And my vision went black.