The Twilight Elf

The shy warmth of a young girl rose like steam above the table. There was no need to overlay cheap sentimentality on a mere scar. The traces of past crises were simply lessons to be reviewed with cold reason. I bowed my head lightly, observing the polite etiquette of a noble, then slowly traced the hideous scar that slashed across my cheek.

"This is my receipt from when a stray dog with nothing to lose challenged the jaws of arrogant nobles and was torn apart."

My dry answer made Vivian's shoulders tremble faintly.

"But thanks to that, I learned that the hilt of a sword held in someone else's hand could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slit my own throat at any moment. In the end, I suppose I paid a rather valuable tuition fee."

It was nothing more than a dry list of facts, free of any emotional inflection. Yet her transparent emerald eyes absorbed my words in an entirely different form.

She had believed me to be the mortal enemy who had torn her family apart, a bloodless, tearless villain. In truth, I was a man who had survived persecution as a mere pawn in the nobles' cruel power struggles. Wasn't my situation eerily similar to her own desperate struggle to protect her house from the edge of a cliff?

A kindred being who shared the same wounds, with nowhere in the world to lean on.

A deep crimson flush spread across her cheeks. Within my answer she had discovered a sense of kinship, and transparent eyes brimmed with trust that swelled beyond control. It was the terrible delusion of a genius who had lost her entire family.

The carriage that had left Arzen territory headed straight for the main headquarters on the outskirts of the capital. Inside the rattling carriage, Elina drew in a deep breath and let her chest rise and fall heavily. She had encountered countless monsters of high society and slaughterers from the battlefield, yet while she had met humans of Victor's breed before, none possessed such suffocating dominance.

Without drawing a single sword, using only his tongue and a worn ledger, he had drawn the Duchess of Arzen perfectly into his own board. She was keenly realizing just how insignificant the meager power she held was before this man. Her blue eyes grew dark with an awe that had long surpassed fear.

The carriage halted before the grand entrance of the enormous mansion. I immediately made my way to the alchemy workshop prepared in the basement of the annex. The moment the door opened, the thick scent of reagents washed over me as Theo approached. The boy had been racing around the workshop with bloodshot eyes burning with excitement.

"You've arrived! Look at this!"

In Theo's hand was a flask radiating a mysterious silver glow. He hopped about in delight and thrust the glass bottle right before my eyes.

"The first work from this workshop! A top-grade mana recovery potion refined from the tearbloom of the northern ice fields."

A smug smile hung on Theo's lips.

"The ingredient itself is so rare that even the old fossils in the Empire's Alchemist Guild might only touch it once in their lifetime, if at all."

"......"

"If you feed it to a high-ranking mage whose heart is about to burst from mana reflux, it becomes a miraculous elixir that forcibly reconnects the severed mana circuits! On the battlefield, it's an absolute lifeline whose value cannot be measured!"

The boy panted, eager to prove his genius.

"With the perfect environment in place, my fingertips are practically dancing!"

A demonstration of outstanding skill. But my gaze slid past the rare flask to Silvia standing beside me.

"How much additional capital was spent to set this up?"

"Approximately thirty gold coins were used."

"Modest. I thought you would have pulled out the pillars of the trading company. I expected you to conduct research in far greater luxury."

At my jab, Theo grinned and bowed deeply.

"I'm simply grateful that you've allowed me to solve the basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter in a safe place."

Theo hummed a tune as he stroked the reagent bottle.

"Proving my value to an employer begins with showing that my work increases the employer's profits first."

Unhesitating certainty poured from him.

"The alchemist guild bastards are mostly one-hit-wonder idiots who focus only on research and don't even realize their own money is being drained. So many of them."

"......"

"Their end is obvious. Buried under debt, exploited by nobles or illegal organizations until they drop dead."

I could read a variety of emotions on the boy's face.

"I had no debt. I was tricked into entering a drug manufacturing den because I wanted to practice real alchemy and they said they would let me."

"So. You don't need an assistant?"

At my question, Theo shook his head in disgust.

"An assistant? If I had one, their thoughts and actions would differ from mine and it would only be uncomfortable."

"......"

"Unless there's suddenly a need to perform hundreds of syntheses in a short period, I don't need one at..."

I pulled out the exclusive supply contract from the Arzen family and thrust it in front of Theo's face.

The genius alchemist's shoulders, which had been puffed with pride, slumped like a scolded puppy the moment his eyes raced across the parchment.

"In that case... I need an assistant......"

"What conditions do you want in an assistant?"

At my question, Theo's eyes sparkled again as he rattled off the essential requirements.

"They must at least know how to extract toxins from elf roots and separate mithril residue! Controlling the reaction heat of basic reagents is the absolute minimum!"

To control the subtle reaction heat of alchemical reagents and prevent mana reflux or explosions, exceptional mana sensitivity was an essential qualification for any assistant. I turned to Silvia.

"Do we currently have any personnel who meet those conditions?"

"It appears we do not. My apologies."

At Silvia's answer, I glanced at Theo once more before turning away.

"Starting tomorrow we will produce reagents without side effects, so if you need additional equipment, request it from Silvia."

The damp ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back alleys of the capital. The first employment office I visited was packed only with combat mercenaries, and no alchemists appeared among the other professions. In the end, I turned my steps toward the underground waiting room of a large slave auction house. It was a place where slaves who had failed to sell repeatedly were imprisoned, destined to be sold cheaply as experimental subjects or mine laborers.

I had no system status windows or holograms now. I had to find a pearl in the mud using only limited data and the intuition I had built up over the years.

The nameplates attached to each iron cage. The slaves' names were not written on them. Unless they were famous figures like Elina whose very identity could skyrocket their price, it was customary for the new owner to bestow a name after the contract.

My indifferent steps, which had passed dozens of cages, halted before the nameplate of a certain slave fated to be dragged away as an experimental subject.

An interesting description. Twilight Elves were a heretical race hated by humans, surrounded by the superstition that taking one in would doom the entire family. In the first place, most people never encountered one in their lifetime. Yet the flaw column listed the number of deceased previous owners as if it were simple fact rather than superstition.

The talent written on the plate perfectly matched Theo's requirements. Yet despite having no charges of harming her owners, this bizarre item had returned to the auction house after six owners died and the contracts were terminated.

Inside the iron cage, a girl crouched covered in filth and dust. I looked down at her through the bars and asked dryly.

"When separating toxins from elf roots, what catalyst prevents mana reflux?"

Even at the sound of my voice the girl kept her lips tightly sealed, tears welling in her eyes. The auction ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠house manager beside me clicked his tongue and approached.

Thud. The manager's thin iron skewer mercilessly stabbed the girl's emaciated thigh. A red droplet of blood formed at the tiny hole. But the girl bit her lip and did not let out a single groan. Pain response normal. Considerable endurance.

The instant the manager raised the skewer again, I lifted my hand and stopped him.

"I have plenty of time."

At my voice the girl's shoulders flinched.

"And you have more than enough places left to be stabbed."

"......"

"In my estimation, this conversation will only end after you've been stabbed everywhere and the same spots dozens of times over until you die from excessive bleeding. Think you can endure it?"

A threat that tightened the windpipe. Only then did the girl part her trembling lips and begin to spit out hesitant answers.

"...The sap of blue moss."

"The critical temperature threshold that must be applied when separating mithril residue."

"A flame of one hundred... one hundred and sixty degrees. And half a handful of silver powder..."

"Control of basic reagent reaction heat."

"Inject mana in the opposite direction... at 0.5-second intervals to cancel it out..."

Perfect answers that fully matched the alchemical knowledge Theo had recited. I looked at the slave with deep interest.

"Where did you learn such knowledge?"

At my question the girl swallowed dryly and carefully opened her mouth.

"I've been living as a slave... since I was very young."

"......"

"My first owner was an alchemist. I lived by his side the longest and picked up knowledge by watching over his shoulder."

Passed. Yet within the calm past she recited, there was one contradiction.

"Why did your previous owners die?"

At my pointed question the girl hesitated, then finally spoke in a cracked voice.

"Before I... reached adulthood."

"......"

"If someone tries to sleep with me against my will, a powerful racial command activates that ruptures the other party's heart."

A fatal bondage that triggered if her purity was forcibly violated. By human standards she was currently eighteen, still half a year from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the threshold of adulthood. I looked down at the girl inside the cage with dry eyes and spoke.

"Were the causes of death for all your owners the same?"

At my question the girl's silver eyelashes trembled. She could not answer and dropped her gaze to the floor. A silence so heavy it was neither affirmation nor denial. That was the most harrowing answer regarding how this cruel world had treated a young slave of a heretical race.

"I kept telling them about this curse. But no one believed me, and they all said 'I'll be different' and tried to take me by force."

"......"

"The result was their deaths."

Thick tears rolled down the girl's cheeks. The humans' hatred toward her race. The horrific rumor that buying me would make one vomit blood and die. Yet the petty pride that she had not sullied her race's blood. And the twisted guilt toward the owners who had tried to use a heretical being like her and ended up dead. The girl looked terribly confused, all those complex emotions tangled together.

"You won't believe me anyway, and you'll end up forcing yourself and dying. I know I'm fated to become a chimera test subject like this."

"......"

"Still... thank you for listening to my last words even though you knew it was unavoidable."

Inside the iron cage so narrow she could not even lie down properly, she struggled to bow her head toward me. I looked down at her with an indifferent gaze, then called to the manager behind me.

"I'll buy this girl."

At my decision the girl's eyes flew wide open.

"Listen well. My name is Victor."

A product thrown into nameless despair. The method of first hammering in the existence of an absolute master she could never defy. But at those three syllables, the girl's pupils expanded as if they would tear apart.

The butcher who ruled the back alleys of the capital. The devil who mercilessly shattered slaves' egos according to his clients' tastes or his own appetite. The infamous slave trader notorious for purchasing noble ladies and subjecting them to horrific abuse and sexual exploitation every night.

The rumors about Victor were as thick and endless as the darkness of the underground waiting room.

"N-no...! Please...!"

The girl clung to the iron bars and screamed. But the manager already held two gold coins in his hand.

Crackle—! Beneath the girl's white collarbone, two crossed swords burned vividly as the Brand of Subjugation was engraved.

"I'd rather die as a test subject! I don't want to be sold to this man!"

The conviction that dying as a test subject would be far more comfortable than dying by this man's touch. The girl trembled violently and poured out venomous resentment.

I flung open the iron cage and looked down at her.

"Didn't I tell you earlier?"

A large shadow engulfed the girl.

"That I am a man with plenty of time."

"..."

"I'll tame you slowly."

Inside the rattling carriage heading for the mansion.

"Hic, huu......"

The girl crouched on the opposite seat was trembling in fear and breathing raggedly. Her appearance was fully revealed in the darkness. Pale, translucent skin beneath silver eyelashes. Cheeks still soft with baby fat, features as youthful as a girl who had only just finished growing. Yet beneath that innocent face lay a body of flawless, smooth, slender lines visible through the ragged cloth. A waist so thin it seemed it might snap, limbs that stretched long and delicate. It was a silhouette like the stem of a white lily standing precariously.

It was a strange imbalance created by the blood of a heretical race. I reached out a hand and looked at the trembling girl. Staring straight into her anxiously shaking transparent eyes, I tossed out a question.

"What was your original name?"

"......I don't remember."

At my question the girl answered with a dazed expression.

"I've been called so many different names over the years... names no longer mean anything to me."

An ego worn down and eroded after being called whatever suited countless owners' tastes. I released her chin and recited dryly.

"An object wearing a tag whose origin is unknown will eventually roll around and be discarded."

"......"

"A name is like an anchor. When you roll like a beast, your foundation shatters and you lose your way, it is the only milestone that lets you look back at who you are and find direction again."

Words spoken to a slave who had been fated to rot without even a name, yet they applied to me as well.

"I'll ask again. What is your name?"

At my voice, the girl's silver eyelashes trembled minutely. The true name of a Twilight Elf, a heretical race, was a long formula containing the origin of the soul. The moment the full name was spoken completely, even the right to control that soul would be perfectly surrendered to the man before her.

The girl instinctively sensed that remaining silent before this terrible man would only bring endless torture. Rather than bleeding while being forced to speak, it was better to answer herself. But to protect the last defensive wall of her soul, she decided to utter only the shortest fragment at the very beginning of her true name.

A delicate yet clear resonance that had bloomed from a pit of dust.

"Celine......"

The girl parted her lips.

"My name is Celine."

Victor's mansion. Celine, who had stepped down from the carriage, could not even breathe properly at the overwhelming scale of the mansion spread before her eyes. I threw my coat to Silvia, who had been waiting at the entrance, and gave an indifferent order.

"Take that one to the shower room and wash her immediately."

Silvia bowed her head and carried out the command at once. One hour later. The dining room on the first floor of the mansion. I sat at the head of the table reviewing the contract with the Arzen family. Soon the door opened and Silvia entered leading Celine, who had just finished bathing. The girl's original appearance, now washed clean of filth and dirt. The girl who followed Silvia in had silver hair exactly like hers. Yet the texture was a complete opposite.

If Silvia's hair was a coldly polished blade of white silver without a single strand out of place, Celine's silver locks were thin, transparent fragments of moonlight that looked as if they would crumble at any moment. A dizzying visual contrast created by a perfectly controlled doll standing beside the bloodline of a sorrowful heretical race. Even in a loose maid uniform, her smooth, slender lines could not be hidden. But Celine's shoulders were hunched tightly.

It was originally a strict rule of this mansion that slaves were not allowed in the main building's dining room. The reason I had deliberately brought her to my table was simple.

"Sit."

At my command Celine flinched and carefully perched on the very edge of the chair. On the table sat steaming beef stew and white bread.

"Eat."

Celine's pupils vibrated. Without lifting my eyes from the documents I added dryly.

"Your bones are practically showing. Starting tomorrow you will serve as an alchemy assistant, so eat while you can."

The fastest way to win over someone harboring distrust was to shatter their wrong assumptions immediately.

"This is the first and last time you will eat in the main building, so don't leave anything and clean your plate."

With trembling hands she carefully picked up a warm piece of bread. The moment she took a bite, the rich flavor of butter flooded her tongue that had only tasted rotten food for so long.

"Hic...... sob."

Eventually the sobs she could no longer hold back burst from between the girl's lips as she chewed. Even the suspicion that it might be poisoned had collapsed helplessly before overwhelming appetite and unfamiliar warmth. Celine wept tears that fell in drops yet frantically spooned up the stew. I watched the scene of her meal indifferently and turned the page.

After the meal I took Celine and headed for the alchemy workshop in the annex basement. Creak. When the iron door opened, Theo, who had been organizing ingredients for the Awakening Potions and Mana Stabilizers, turned his head.

"You're here already?"

Theo's gaze fixed on Celine, who stood hesitantly behind me. I lightly pushed Celine's shoulder and spoke dryly.

"Greet him. This is the alchemist Theo, whom you will serve as your master from now on."

Celine bowed her head in a daze. Theo scratched his chin as he looked the girl over.

"My assistant? Looking at the ears, she seems like an elf... but not a pure one. What kind of elf?"

At Theo's direct question Celine froze. The heretical race that humans called a disaster and avoided. She bit her lip and answered in a voice that shrank to a whisper.

"A Twilight... Elf."

At that moment Theo set down the reagent bottle he was holding with a clack. The instant Celine squeezed her eyes shut expecting disgust or contempt—

"A Twilight Elf?! That legendary race said to possess insane mana sensitivity?!"

Theo instead brightened and rushed over, grabbing both of Celine's hands.

"Whoa, this is a total jackpot! If the old guild fossils saw this they'd foam at the mouth and collapse!"

Celine wore a stunned expression at the alchemist's wild antics as he jumped about cheering. Theo's eyes sparkled as he immediately fired off a verification question.

"When refining evening primrose sap, what color change of the mana condensation point marks the optimal time?"

"When it changes from transparent... blue to deep purple."

"The exact melting time of the residue produced when heating troll blood?!"

"At one hundred and fifty degrees Celsius, precisely three minutes and twenty seconds."

Every time flawless answers flowed from Celine's mouth, Theo's face flushed with delight. He shouted to me in an overwhelmed voice.

"She can start working right this moment!"

Then he turned back to Celine and yelled.

"You're the best! Perfect! Raise the heat on that brazier right now—no, please raise it, Assistant!"

The heretical slave who had until just moments ago been buried in a pit of filth waiting only for death was now being pushed from behind by a wildly energetic alchemist and had taken her place before the brazier in a daze.

"Today is only organizing, so rest. Production begins tomorrow."

"C-can't we at least match our rhythm a little?"

"We'll match it brutally starting tomorrow, so rest for today."

A declaration of labor exploitation from the employer. But Theo snorted and thumped his chest.

"One week? With this assistant we'll make them with time to spare! Would it be all right if I use the extra time for my personal research?"

"It doesn't matter."

At my cool approval Theo cheered. Before the faintly burning warmth of the brazier, no trace of fear remained in Celine's eyes. The fact that her talent could be used as a fully valuable mind rather than a horrific cursed body. The overwhelming sense of relief she experienced for the first time in her life. It was salvation in the name of exploitation, bestowed by a monstrous master.

Theo rolled up his sleeves and clenched his fist.

"Miss Celine! Let's work hard together starting tomorrow!"

Celine roughly wiped her heated eyes with her sleeve. Then, just like Theo, she clenched both hands into tight fists and shouted.

"Y-yes! Master!"

Together with the vigorous answer, red flames rose. And so the production line that would seize the windpipe of the Arzen family—where dangers that could take my life still lurked—and shake it began to operate.