Better Than Baker Is Bacon
To be honest, I was every bit as stunned as anyone else.
The phenomenon of an aged body reverting to a youthful state—something that might as well have leaped straight out of a wuxia novel as a classic return to youth—had never been my intention.
Stripping away disease and mending wounds was fine and well, but why had the body grown young again?
In the present situation, any visible panic would make my treatment look like a lucky experimental fluke, so I kept my composure. Still, the person most shocked in this room was me.
I had been aiming for the best possible result, and instead the absolute best result had just shoved its way out uninvited.
Well, I can more or less guess the reason.
Two whole bottles of Elixir had gone into smoothly transmuting the President's body.
No matter how I turned it over, that was the only possible secret behind the rejuvenation.
If the Philosopher's Stone found its purpose in the sheer diversity of what it could transmute, the Elixir existed to push a single transmutation into a state of utter perfection.
Originally, only a few drops of Elixir were ever meant to be added to any one working. Even in the game, a single bottle could be portioned out across multiple playthroughs, and the alchemies that demanded it by the full bottle were vanishingly few.
I had dumped two entire bottles in without a second thought. It wasn't impossible that the President's body had simply returned to its prime.
What you can see with the naked eye is only the surface. The President's flesh is probably beyond even his peak now.
A living body is never perfect by nature. The genetic system itself is built to take one thing only by discarding another; it never cherry-picks solely the good. Disease-free longevity and personal might are what living beings desire. What genes want is the continuation of the species through reproduction, and the survival needed to achieve it.
But just now the President's body had stepped outside the framework of biology. Alchemy had carefully dismantled it, then rebuilt it into the most perfect state reachable by consuming a massive quantity of Elixir as catalyst.
In other words, the President as he stood now might have transcended the limits of existing genetics. He had acquired a physique that theory alone could reach—or a physique theory itself declared impossible.
"Heh heh. So it didn't end at mere rejuvenation."
"You can feel it as well, then?"
"How could I not? Even an ordinary person who had never trained a day in his life would sense that he had evolved—no, progressed—into something more perfect."
Progress. The deliberate choice of a word that carried the meaning of moving forward was proof that the President himself understood his body had slipped free of the ordinary cycle of evolution.
"If I had to put this sensation into simple terms… yes. Bone-washing rebirth and return to youth would come closest."
Martial arts existed on this continent as well. More precisely, the kind of martial arts that filled wuxia novels existed here. The word itself meant "the study of the martial," and every combat art born with principle on this continent was called martial arts.
"Having mastered the sects and the schools, and having founded a lineage of my own, I would know."
The President continued in a calm voice. The God of Battle who had encompassed every branch of martial learning on the continent was now discussing the flavor of his own transformation.
Sects. They forged a unique mana organ called the dantian through cultivation methods, then imitated the flow of nature itself through theories of the eight extraordinary meridians and acupoints, unfolding their own principles within the body.
Schools. Rather than opposing the flow of nature, they rode it, seeking unity with the great outdoors so they could wield its power as though it were their own body and weapon.
Lineages. Also called single-transmission arts, they were paths only a vanishing few ever awakened to. Unlike the multitudes who walked a shared road of training, lineage martial artists each possessed a stark individuality. Perhaps even their foundations differed. Sects and schools built their branches of martial learning upon shared methods and theory; a lineage was simply the principle one person had realized, crystallized into a branch of martial learning in its own right.
Having mastered every branch, the President could be certain of the change within himself.
"This body is not something that can be created merely by polishing and training the flesh."
"Then what is it?"
"Artificial—and therefore perfect."
Exactly right. I smiled inwardly in admiration.
"I truly chose well when I took you on as an instructor."
At my reaction the President let out a dry laugh, as if to say he had expected as much. Crossing the biological limit no martial artist could ever surpass was, after all, something worth marveling at.
"Anyway, please keep your promise. I went through quite a bit of trouble myself, you know."
"Of course. Of course I will. No matter what happens, I will keep my word."
Everything after that flowed as smoothly as water downhill. The President and I rested for a short while with light conversation, exchanged a few pieces of information, and discussed plans for what came next.
"I see. I had heard the Hohenheim family had fallen into corruption, but I never imagined they would plant one of their own as a teaching assistant right under Instructor Charlotte."
"There's the Green Forest Dawn Society as well. I'll be cleaning that side up soon enough, but for the Hohenheim matter I'll need your help, President."
"How could I refuse? Given the nature of the affair, they have insulted Origin Academy—and by extension, looked down on me."
Pulling the President completely onto my side would put wings on everything I was about to do. Seizing the chance to talk it through had successfully secured his full cooperation.
"Then I'll take my leave. It's nearly time to clock out."
I glanced at the clock, confirmed the hour, and rose from my seat. The President smacked his lips with an expression that said he could hardly believe so much time had already passed, and saw me off with lingering regret in his eyes.
"Miss Jerie, was it? Do not worry about your sister. Now that I have stepped in, no one will lay a finger on her."
"Th-thank you."
The President's eyes were sharp as drawn blades as he spoke. He was a man who kept his promises to the letter, so I could leave Jerie's sister entirely in his hands. When I asked how he intended to handle it, he had even said he would go to Hwan-guk himself. Any other method might be debatable, but if the President in his current state went to Hwan-guk in person and brought her back, neither the Green Forest Dawn Society nor the forces behind them would dare make a reckless move. Touch him and they would simply be beaten black and blue until they were annihilated root and branch. One way or another, it was good news for me.
"Ah, and one more thing. Instructor Ryu—try not to take it too hard."
"Ah, yes…"
I gave an awkward smile at the President's encouragement and turned my back. Part of it was simply that I needed to leave for the day, but I had also been forced to confront again just how frail my body still was. Who would have thought I still couldn't even look at the first character of a cultivation method? I had tried asking the President for instruction in internal arts or martial techniques, only to learn my body was still far too weak to receive his teaching. He had genuinely seemed ready to teach me the moment my body allowed it, which made the disappointment sting all the more.
Tch. Still, I did get promises on the other fronts.
Regretful or not, it wasn't as though I had walked away empty-handed. He had arranged for me to learn the common skills and several techniques I had longed for back when I was wandering the Destroyed Kingdom. Before long I would be able to pick up a number of fundamentals that would support my alchemy. The academy existed to raise students, but learning had no end; there was no rule that only students were allowed to grow here. Even as an instructor, I still had plenty left to learn from Origin Academy.
"So, what now?"
"First we eat. Then we go clean up one eyesore."
It was nearly dinnertime, and by now that irresponsible bastard would have wandered out for a drink. After all, from looks to every last mannerism he was the textbook specimen of a thug.
"Miss Jerie, I have a favor to ask."
"What is it?"
While I was turning over how best to lure the man out, a flash of inspiration struck. I put on a chilling smile and whispered into Jerie's ear. After listening to the whole plan, she returned her patented decadent smile—and her answer.
"No."
"Eh?"
I had expected her to agree cheerfully because it sounded fun. I had not expected a flat refusal.
James Baker.
In Ryu Seojun's words, a human being who was the very textbook specimen of a worthless third-rate thug. He served as teaching assistant in Charlotte van Hohenheim's Research Building Twelve, and he was a genuine piece of trash whose conduct, results, and reputation were all rock bottom.
Or so Jerie repeated to herself with a scowl as she walked the night streets.
Honestly. He wants me to seduce a guy like that?
Of course she knew he didn't mean she should actually date the man. The plan was simply to catch the eye of a creature who lived for nothing but chasing skirts and lure him in. Rationally speaking, she was the perfect person for the job. Outstanding figure, beautiful face, and on top of that a rare half-elf. To a man who treated womanizing as the joy of life, she doubted there was a more attractive one-night partner.
Still feels disgusting.
Even so, a visceral revulsion remained. The mere thought of herself standing beside another man made her feel unreasonably filthy, and if it had been up to her alone she would have dug her heels in and refused outright.
—Miss Jerie is the only suitable person I have. I don't know any other women who would fit.
Thinking of how she had somehow fallen for that strange line and impulsively nodded still left her wondering why. Jerie heaved long internal sighs while outwardly wearing an emotionless mask, roaming every corner from deserted alleys to crowded thoroughfares.
And at last the moment she had been waiting for arrived.
Finally hooked one. Is that him?
She flicked a glance over her shoulder and compared the man she saw against the description in her memory. Short dirty-blond hair, skin tanned a brownish hue, a muscular build. A walk that swaggered exactly like a thug, and an appearance no one would mistake for anything else.
Yeah. That's the bastard.
She had thought the description was far too vague and slapdash, but seeing him in the flesh proved it could not have been more precise. After all, if someone had asked Jerie herself to describe that face, she would have used the exact same words.
In that instant her blank expression cracked. Just like any delicate young woman, she leaned her tired face and body against a bench near a shadowed alley. Then the target she had been waiting for came clomping toward her side.
"Hey there, miss…"
A lightly laughing tone, a rough voice that was endlessly flippant. Jerie once again recalled the phrase "textbook specimen of a third-rate thug," then bolted straight for the dark alley exactly as planned. According to Ryu Seojun, a man like this would chase her all the harder precisely because she ran.
Wow. This guy is actually insane.
And James did exactly that, pursuing the woman who looked for all the world like she was fleeing. Because it was a secluded alley, the face chasing her even wore the grin of a man who had just hit the jackpot.
That kind of trash has connections to the forces behind the Green Forest Dawn Society?
Of course, without some kind of string to pull, a man like him could never have become a teaching assistant at Origin Academy. How was someone who couldn't even manage basic human decency supposed to help or teach anyone? The most likely possibility was—
An easy-to-handle, stupid tool.
The mana accumulated in his body was decent enough, and if he possessed some special ability like her own Gaia Nova, he would certainly be usable. And if he was this simple and transparent, how delightful would he be from the handler's perspective?
A dry snicker touched Jerie's lips. Her busy feet finally stopped. She had come deep enough into the alley that no one would know what happened here. Thinking that, she turned around—and sure enough, James was sauntering toward her with a lecherous grin.
"Come on, elf girl. Someone might think I'm the bad guy here."
He couldn't even tell an elf from a half-elf. Should she just tie him to a tree and bury him?
A chilling smile was just about to bloom across Jerie's face when, fortunately, no such thing occurred.
"You are the bad guy. If not you, then who?"
Because behind James, an alchemist was already strolling up at a leisurely pace.