Flashback (3) / Pursuit (1)
The Blue Tower Lord's lecture proceeded smoothly. The audience filled every seat, and not a single mage among them fell below a certain caliber. I performed the Ariel act to perfection. Well, maybe "perfection" is a slight exaggeration. People occasionally looked baffled when Ariel smiled. It was understandable—the Blue Tower Lord, who always wore a face full of disgust and spat curses everywhere, was showing a rare kindly expression. And since that face was strikingly handsome, perhaps one of the empire's top beauties, the female mages blushed every time. Especially if their eyes met his—they squealed like it was near-fanatic levels of popularity. Was this a first for them? I'd figured this body would be popular since it was so handsome, but every time I smiled, the audience grew restless, so I quickly reverted to a cold expression and continued the lecture.
Of course, one question did cross my mind.
Is Ariel gay or asexual after all?
Sex with Clechia was just out of fiancée duty, and with so many women who clearly liked him—wanting a piece of him—he never touched any. That pointed to some issue with his sexual preferences. Moreover, among all the women I'd seen at the conference, not one was more beautiful than me—or rather, my former self, now Ariel's body. I'd heard about men's instincts for reproduction—women too, but especially beastkin. Even a man without a dick, if he had balls, would probably try to extract sperm somehow to impregnate someone. Ugh, gross—enough of that.
As those useless thoughts ran through my head, the lecture's highlight approached. I slowly took out the vial—this would leave me with only one potion left—and placed it on the analyzer. I couldn't demonstrate the drug's effect by feeding it to someone, so this was the next best thing. It contained blood drawn from Ariel's body, so no choice there. For drugs hard to demo like this, we usually extracted and displayed the info via analyzer.
The vial on the analyzer slowly absorbed and vanished. Simultaneously, the analysis results appeared on the giant screen at the podium's center. It was packed with ingredients, production method, time, components, and such. The mages in the audience scrambled to take notes. Seeing them desperately scribbling made me chuckle inwardly. As if they could replicate it just from seeing. In that sense, alchemy was like cooking. Even master chefs couldn't replicate the imperial exclusive cooks' dishes, recipe or not. Who spends six months on a single dish? Don't bring up processed stuff like ham or cheese—that's not "ingredients" or "cooking."
Anyway, back to the lecture—no issues so far. But the important part came right after.
A mage in the audience stood up and stared at the lecturer. He clearly intended to ask a question. I looked back at him, not out of courtesy to the questioner, but because something felt off. There had been plenty of "questions" during the lecture, but they were all from people struggling to understand the content. No one had challenged it yet. But this mage who just stood had a meaningful expression—like the thrill of "I know something you don't." I was certain he'd ask that kind.
For some reason, my heart pounded as I calmly checked his affiliation. His robes bore an emblem I'd never seen. Who was he? From where? But before I could ponder, he spoke.
"The lecture has been most impressive. I have one question—may I ask?"
"Yes, of course."
The unidentified mage spoke cautiously, unlike the glee on his face. Probably because he wasn't a hundred percent sure himself. With the lecturer being the Blue Tower Lord, he couldn't rule out being wrong—and all the top mages were focused on us. I listened closely too.
"From what you've presented, there's one critical flaw in the body swap potion's production method."
Ho. Right on target. What critical flaw? He paused after that line, so it had to be major.
"What is it?"
"Blood is used in production to extract the target's mana wave signature from their blood."
Suddenly, a question I'd never considered hit me. True enough—the potion for this lecture was flawless. It would definitely swap bodies if fed to someone. So people might wonder: "Whose blood did the Blue Tower Lord use?"
I started pondering how to answer if he asked that. Saying I drew it from my assistant would invite more questions on why and intent. I could dodge, but it'd be annoying. They might probe usage plans too.
But the unidentified mage asked something entirely different.
"To do that, mana must first be injected into the blood—like a primer. If I understand correctly, that mana must be the lecturer's own."
He caught his breath, serious-faced.
"The entire process is tailored to that. Inject another mage's mana, and production fails. What are your thoughts?"
Hm. So, his point: Midway through production, mana injection is needed—and it must be Ariel's mana only. No other mage's. Intriguing.
I hurriedly reviewed the research notes from the start. Soon, I found the answer. Indeed, the process was strictly from Ariel's perspective. Without Ariel's mana, it couldn't complete.
"Hm, yes. You're correct. More research needed there. Let me correct: The method presented isn't official."
People's eyes widened, expecting at least some rebuttal. But why fight when I'm not Ariel? Doesn't mean the potion lacks efficacy—it works fine. And he was right: Ariel's mana specifically is required.
But that wasn't the end. Crucially, Ariel's neck now bore the Magic Restraint Choker. It not only blocked spellcasting but any mana extraction from the body. Meaning—no way to remake the potion now. And that step was near the final stage.
I couldn't help but get excited. Heart racing just imagining. Think about it: Ariel labors six months, reaches the mana injection at the end, but can't do it himself—so calls another mage. Injects, but it fails. The look on Ariel's face, the despair... who wouldn't thrill at that?
Decisively—Ariel had no way back. No need to reveal that.
The man Terria couldn't identify was the Imperial Information Bureau's Fourth Division Chief. He was the first to point out a flaw in the Blue Tower Lord's lecture. But he thought little of that glory. Not because he outshone Ariel—clearly inferior. His interest lay elsewhere.
He was exceptional, but below Ariel. The chief planned only to report one fact back to the bureau post-conference. He'd dropped in on the lecture out of curiosity, nothing more. Ever dutiful, he now felt grateful for stumbling on a threat to imperial security.
Returning immediately after, he headed to the deputy director. The man's urgent gait made the deputy tense and straighten up.
"Deputy, remember the beastkin royal family list from the rebellion three years ago?"
"Yeah. All reported dead. Why?"
"I spotted her at the alchemy conference, second day afternoon. The princess—alive."
The deputy tilted his head. No royals survived that day, as far as he knew. All slaughtered, relatives included. Directed by Ariel, the Blue Tower Lord—not some novice.
The deputy knew Ariel's prowess and vengeful fury well. Imperial knights marveled at how mercilessly he cut down foes. So when Ariel reported all royals dead, no doubts.
But the princess alive? Only one, the beastkin king's sole daughter—famed for her beauty. The deputy scoffed.
"Impossible. Blue Tower Lord reported killing her himself. He killed the king and queen too. You saying he lied?"
"I wondered too, but I saw her at the Gray Tower Lord's lecture. I know the face, confirmed fox ears and tail. Probably her."
"You sure you didn't missee?"
The deputy's tone grew serious at the chief's conviction. He knew the man's loyalty—no empty words. And this wasn't a joking matter.
"Worth investigating further, at least. Did you confirm all royal corpses that day?"
"No, not our purview. Military handled it."
"Here—the war records."
He handed over a thick classified file—level 1 security. Pointed to a section.
"Post-rebellion, all royal corpses recovered. Except one. No mention of the princess's body anywhere."
The deputy reread meticulously. Soon, doubts stirred. No princess body noted.
"How's it in public records?"
"Everything else says her body was found too."
Hm. The deputy nodded. No body wasn't a lie, then. Easy to guess why public docs faked it: Beastkin remnants lingered post-rebellion. Revealing the sole direct heir alive risked another uprising. Better declare the line extinct.
"But that doesn't prove she's alive. No reports in three years. You sure?"
"Possible, but worth checking."
The deputy preferred it a misjudgment—bureau work overflowed. But if true, the palace would shred them. Vital issue. Sighing, he conceded investigation. He itched to gouge the chief's eyes for dumping this—and prayed she'd died, sparing tenfold the workload.