12. The First Experiment (1)
To prevent the birth of a villain who would destroy the world, I hurriedly began the experiment.
"The potion you'll brew today is the stamina recovery potion I mentioned yesterday. Here's the recipe with detailed instructions—use it as a reference and give it a try."
"Just like that, all of a sudden?"
"Yeah. This isn't about getting results from the experiment."
This experiment wasn't for research purposes. It was more like personal tutoring for Arienael. And before teaching, you have to gauge the student's current level first. I needed to see what she could do on her own without my guidance.
Arienael had never done alchemy experiments, but she was still a graduate from a magic university after four years of study. Even in natural sciences or magic theory, there were practical classes. The major textbooks I'd read while preparing lectures were full of alchemy-related content, even if we didn't study it directly. No need to worry about accidents.
"Call me when you're done, then."
If the professor stood by glaring like a hawk, she might make mistakes out of nerves. Interfering would defeat the purpose, and just watching obvious errors unfold felt wrong too. Not that I was doing this out of laziness. Well, okay, that was part of it, but not the whole reason. And even for a simple brew, a first-timer would take at least an hour or two. I couldn't afford to waste that in my busy schedule.
*
Back in my office, I double-checked this week's schedule and mulled over my Wednesday and Friday lectures. Before I knew it, an hour and a half had passed. Worried if she was doing okay on her own, I headed to the lab.
They say the busier you are, the more you should circle back. Rushing when you're anxious just leads to screw-ups, wasting more time than if you'd done it steadily. This was exactly that situation.
There was no accident in the lab. It wasn't a dangerous experiment to begin with, and no tricky materials were involved. No broken lab equipment, no injuries to Arienael. The brewing had progressed surprisingly fast for a first try and was already in the final stage.
But I couldn't help sighing.
Right... she was an elf.
Tribes with small populations often find strict, rigid rules awkward. In small tribal societies, everyone knows each other. They govern with flexibility rather than minute laws—preferably through direct agreements between parties, or mediation by friends if needed. For long-lived races, human rules seem pointless. Not just laws, but the nations that make them have shorter lifespans than theirs. Laws are constantly enacted, amended, abolished—like fleeting sparks.
Elves live in tribal units as long-lived beings. Arienael had interpreted the obsessively detailed, airtight recipe instructions with extreme flexibility.
The recipe clearly said to hold the ladle vertically and stir slowly clockwise. But on her pot, only the handle was fixed at the center, and it was swirling around wildly. That was a problem, but the bigger issue was that Arienael wasn't even holding the ladle. It was a spirit. A small creature, clearly a wind spirit, was struggling to move it. Checking the bottom of the pot, a fire spirit was handling the heating.
Thanks to the unwashed tools, I could check the intermediate residues in the bowls and bottles. The container sizes were off. Using such large vessels for that tiny batch? The dried mushrooms that should have been ground to grain-sized pieces were powdered like flour. Doing that by hand before even adding water? Another spirit assist, probably.
Was she timing it right? The hourglass had run out once, but way too much sand remained compared to the progress.
"Ah! It's done, Professor."
She'd clearly eyeballed it. The final stage took 15 minutes, but she'd been watching a 20-minute timer.
And the finale was a spectacle. The recipe said to stop stirring, turn off the heat, and cool slowly. Not rapid-cool while stirring and do three more laps.
Where to even start critiquing...
"Haa..."
She wasn't clueless—she hesitated, glancing around uneasily. She knew she'd messed up but had no idea what.
"Did I... make a mistake somewhere...?"
"Did you follow the recipe I gave you?"
"Yes. I referenced the recipe you provided..."
"I didn't say reference it. I said follow it. Read the third-to-last line. It clearly says to hold the ladle vertically while stirring."
"Ah, sorry. I didn't realize that motion was so important... I thought just stirring was fine."
"If it was just 'stir' with no specifics on motion, it would've said that. Not tediously 'hold vertically and stir slowly.'"
"I'm sorry..."
Her long elf ears drooped a bit, deflated. But I couldn't just let it slide.
"Plus, you used spirit magic?"
"Yes, my hands weren't enough... Is that not allowed?"
"Normally, no issue. But if it's in the recipe, follow it first. Look—even now. If you'd stirred by hand or with telekinesis, wouldn't you have minded the motion? But spirits do it 'well' on their own, so you felt bad nitpicking form as the one asking for help. It seems minor anyway, right?"
Arienael looked caught.
By hand, the rising steam's heat would've prevented that swirling anyway.
"And look at this. Ground too fine. It said chop small, not powder."
"Huh? But it said '5mm or less'?"
"Right. Not wrong, but overkill. Wasted effort. One more: use properly sized tools! Not in the recipe, but you don't think it's weird to do this without being told?"
"As long as the result's good, it shouldn't matter... No, sorry."
Seeing my face hardening, she shut up and bowed her head.
I couldn't hide my frustration. I'd slacked off before too, so I shouldn't push too hard—but I couldn't hold back.
"If the result's good, sure! The problem is when it's wrong! How do you troubleshoot? You skipped so many steps, you won't know what went bad! Thinking 'as long as it works, process doesn't matter' is dangerous."
Plenty more to say, but it'd just tire my mouth now. I'd have to inspect prep, process, and finish fully anyway. Redo from start, point out each flaw beside her.
"Lecture later. Finish the analysis first. Pour the completed potion into this vial, place it on the alchemy bench, inject mana steadily through this circuit... Nah, I'll do it."
Analysis needs precise control more than brewing—can't trust hers like this. I'd do it myself to wrap up quick.
"Watch closely."
"Just activate the circuit and inject mana from the right, and it outputs evenly?"
"Not that convenient. Fixed output means single-use only."
"Then how do you adjust?"
"Depends on circuit mechanics, mana direction and intensity. Knack matters. But there's a standard framework—stays decent if not way off."
I finished explaining and pulled a vial from a box in the lab cabinet corner. A vivid red liquid filled the thumb-sized bottle.
"Another stamina potion?"
"Yeah. From the guild branch by the university rear gate. Source of that recipe—they provide formula, analysis, and quality standards on order."
"Same product?"
"Yep."
Arienael visibly deflated.
"The color's totally different already. No wonder skipping steps ruined it..."
Good she's learning, but off-base.
"No, that's dye. That method naturally yields opaque pink."
"...Really?"
"Obvious. Recipes and ingredients vary by maker—why would colors match? Even high-grade and low-grade look the same."
"But it's for human lives—you can't just..."
"Nothing weird. That herb you used? Most common for low-grade stamina potions. Know why?"
"Good efficacy?"
"Decent, but not best. Better herbs and animal materials exist."
"Cheap?"
"Easy and cheap, yeah—but plenty of those too."
"No idea. Then why? If better, easier options exist?"
"Simple. Tastes good."
Arienael looked dumbfounded.
"Think from the drinker's view. Gotta swallow this much. Gulp fast if a lot, savor slow if sipping. Bitter? Can't stomach it."
"True, but..."
"Drinker's injured, exhausted. Bad taste? Puke it up, wasted. 'Palatability' matters more than you think. Anyway, not important now—moving on."
Side explanations later. Finish this mess, redo the experiment.
"Anyway, infuse mana at this intensity like so. Check output here, test guild product first. Per their guarantee, at this strength, color changes and effect fades after ~10 minutes. Time it."
Handed her my pocket watch.
She times while I run the bench—hands full otherwise. 3D formulas could solo it, but she can't learn from that.
"A watch? Three hands?"
"Yeah, thinnest is seconds."
"'Seconds'?"
"You know minutes? Divide one into 60."
"Measure that small? How?"
"Enough chat—start."
Can't lose it—irreplaceable, sure not giving to a grad student casually.
I infused steady weak mana; crimson potion swirled inside. After a bit, hazy mana trails filled it like heat haze, opacity rising—couldn't see through despite dye. 'Effect loss' benchmark for analysis.
Asked Arienael the time.
"8 minutes... 42 seconds? Like this?"
"Big error for measurement. Whatever—relative comparison's key now."
I'd done this tons; couldn't be my fault. Past guild tests: 10-12 min. My brews same. Guild watering it down?
Did same to her botched potion. Felt longer. Dark pink swirled; sans dye, turned milky white on fade.
"How long?"
She looked complicated.
"15 minutes, 4 seconds..."
...Huh?