The Rubber Human Project Begins
"Alright, let's get started." Serian shrugged off her cumbersome uniform jacket and rolled up her shirt sleeves. At last—her perfect retirement plan, the so-called Rubber Human Creation Project, was underway.
"First, let's set everything up."
Hersene, long accustomed to leading her alchemy team, directed her subordinates with crisp efficiency. "Come on, Team One—start prepping the materials. Team Three, get the distillers ready."
Her researchers moved briskly, preparing for potion-making.
Oh… Serian watched them with quiet admiration. She had always worked alone, so seeing Hersene command so many people at once was a surprise. It was like watching an orchestra conductor.
Wow… She couldn't get a word in during the meeting, but she's got real charisma when she's in charge.
No wonder they called her the Golden Hand. Well, that made sense—anyone with a fancy nickname had to be impressive. Let's see: Toegye Yi Hwang, Baekbeom Kim Gu, Dosan Ahn Chang-ho… and Golden Hand Hersene. Let's go.
"And you over there—what are you doing just standing around? I've told you before: light the furnace before we start working."
"Yes, ma'am!"
At Hersene's order, a young team member grabbed a flame stone and approached the furnace.
"Wait, hold on a second."
"Yes? What is it, Chief Developer?"
The one who stopped the youth was none other than Serian.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
"Pardon? Chief Developer, to make a potion, we have to light the furnace first…"
"Hmm… Who says that? That you have to light the furnace first?"
"E-excuse me?!"
The youngest alchemist glanced nervously at Hersene, flustered by Serian's sudden question. Hersene herself looked equally bewildered.
…What is she talking about?
To brew a potion, you obviously had to light the furnace first, didn't you? Hersene stared blankly, as if someone had just denied that you needed to boil water to make ramen.
If anyone else had raised such an absurd objection, she would have snorted and ignored them. After all, she was Hersene, the empire's foremost authority on alchemy—the Golden Hand. She was practically the Armaments Bureau's alchemy advisor. She had joined this project personally because she wanted to observe Serian's methods firsthand; normally, she only stepped in at critical moments to steer the direction. Even Valentine, the Chief Development Officer, treated her with the utmost respect. That was the deference due to someone who stood at the pinnacle of her field.
So no matter how high Serian's rank as Chief Developer might be, questioning her in her own area of expertise should have been unthinkable. The surrounding team members exchanged startled glances. In the kitchen, the chef was king—if Hersene had shouted "If you're not going to listen to me, get out!" it wouldn't have been strange at all.
But Hersene recalled the sight of Serian casually handling that ancient demonic beast. Though the soundproof glass had muffled the words, she had clearly scolded it while feeding it rubber and honey balls—overwhelming that monstrous creature with the same ease one might use on a neighborhood puppy.
She wouldn't be bluffing.
After all, this was the same person who had solved multiple difficult problems right after entering alchemy and submitted such a detailed proposal in a single day.
"Um… Chief Developer, why are you stopping me when I gave the order?"
"Hmm…"
Serian merely tilted her head, studying Hersene. In truth, she was thinking:
She seemed pretty charismatic earlier…
…Could it be that this person actually isn't very good at alchemy?!
It was the sort of thought that would have made Hersene faint from indignation, but from Serian's perspective, it was perfectly reasonable.
Serian stepped forward. "Move aside. You can't just light the furnace right away. Temperature control is everything in potion-making."
She placed her hand on the furnace. In the wake of her palm, intricate blue magical circuits began etching themselves across the surface in an instant.
The alchemy team members stared in shock.
W-wait, what just happened?
They were alchemists—potion specialists—so they weren't particularly skilled at magical inscription. Why would they be, when the specialists were right next door? With a bunch of crazy engineers next door who would handle it all if you just asked, why bother? Let's just go dig up one more herb instead! That was their basic mindset.
Even so, they were still mages. They understood the principles of magical inscription well enough to recognize how extraordinary Serian's feat was.
How the hell did she do that?
Magic was normally cast by drawing circuits in the air with a wand and infusing them with mana. Magical inscription worked on the same principle, except the circuits were etched onto an object and required an understanding of that object's properties.
While inscription could be done with a wand, it was a far more delicate and difficult task, so specialized inscription tools were the norm. Yet Serian had merely swept her bare hand across the furnace—and turned an ordinary hearth into a medieval gas range.
"W-what on earth…"
Hersene's jaw dropped. It wasn't a simple inscription, either—the circuits were numerous and intricately interwoven.
"How did you just do that?"
"Hm? Have you never seen magical inscription before?"
Serian answered without prejudice, accustomed to classmates who knew far less than she did. Ah, right—you're potion people, so you wouldn't know. This is magical inscription! If you etch the circuits like this, you don't have to redraw them every time you want to activate them. Didn't know that, did you?
That's not what I was asking! Hersene felt frustration rising. She finally understood how her own academy friends must have felt when asking her questions. Geniuses simply thought on an entirely different level from ordinary people.
How did she inscribe it with her bare hand?!
Hersene examined the medieval gas range again.
…The quality of the inscription is excellent, too.
A circuit of that complexity would have taken the inscription team several hours. Yet it had appeared in a single pass of Serian's palm. That was right—the Elhardt family's secret technique of casting magic with bare hands applied to inscription as well!
In short, Serian was a living, breathing human printer. What was natural to her left everyone else stunned.
"Well then, the setup looks about done."
Paying no mind to the alchemy team's expressions—as though the world had just been turned upside down—she began the actual potion-making process.
Hmm… First, pour in the distilled water. Add finely chopped slime pieces and dried brain-glow insect powder, then trigger the catalytic reaction with centaur bone dust…
She then made minute adjustments to the magical inscription on the furnace she had just created. With a single touch, the flames inside moved as if alive, shifting the temperature. They roared fiercely, then softened and dimmed, only to rise again with precise control—perfect flame regulation.
Hersene was astonished and impressed by every single movement. Even she, advisor to the Armaments Bureau and head of the Alchemist Association, had never seen this method of combination before.
Working with a young genius really is the best!
Mages were a breed with exceptional passion for knowledge. Hersene was especially so. If there was a new alchemical secret in some far southern land, she would pack a bundle of gold and go learn it. Since Serian had also double-majored in armaments development, her ability to perform magical inscription herself was one thing—but every aspect of her alchemy methods, even her smallest habits, struck Hersene as revolutionary.
Hersene asked in amazement, "May I ask who your teacher was?"
Serian was barely twenty. These techniques were the kind of know-how one acquired only after a lifetime of research, so Hersene assumed there must have been a mentor.
Alchemists tended to be poor at socializing, holed up in their rooms researching, but they had a culture of mutual support. Alchemy was an unpopular field with few powerful noble backers, so without sticking together, they risked being exploited as potion slaves by corrupt aristocrats. That was why the Imperial Alchemist Association existed. Joining didn't mean sharing every secret, but it allowed them to coordinate prices, resist noble tyranny, and exchange knowledge. To do that, you first had to join the association, pay dues, eat together, go herb-gathering hikes, visit saunas—everything to grow close.
…I should go find them myself.
If someone possessed knowledge Hersene had never encountered, they had to be a foreign master or a hidden recluse. She would gladly pay a fortune to learn from them.
"Hmm… My teacher? Are you talking about the professors at Cardinal Academy?"
"No… I meant someone else."
Hersene gave a small laugh. She knew all the Cardinal Academy professors—they had studied under the same master as her! Ahh, I know their skills. They're all second-rate compared to me. And since she met them regularly at academic conferences, they wouldn't have been hoarding such advanced techniques.
"You know, like someone who taught you from childhood, or gave you private lessons."
Hersene asked while subtly watching Serian's reaction. Hmm, maybe she doesn't want to say? Well, techniques of this level would be like a family secret. Alchemy was difficult to learn; being an unpopular field, its techniques weren't widely shared. Yet despite its lack of popularity, it was highly useful—anyone skilled in it could live comfortably anywhere. But this was the medieval era. Why would anyone freely teach the very skill that put food on their table? Usually, apprentices spent ten years stoking fires, gathering herbs, and washing cauldrons and dishes before being taught even a small thing as a favor. Such knowledge simply wasn't available through normal channels. Even imperial university professors didn't easily share their secrets except with their most prized disciples. It was like a secret family recipe that even the daughter-in-law of the main house wasn't told.
…Well, if she doesn't want to say, there's nothing I can do.
"It's fine. You don't have to tell me."
Even as she said it, Hersene had already resolved to find out the person's identity by any means necessary—even if it meant secretly tailing Serian.
"No, it's not that. There's really no such person…?"
"…..What?"
At that moment, Serian muttered while busily moving her hands. "I did all my research alone, so I don't really have anyone I could call a teacher."
For an instant, Hersene's mind went completely blank.
Alone… she had researched all of this?
Hersene's face stiffened. The techniques she had believed were hard-won secrets painstakingly extracted through blood, sweat, and tears by some elderly master alchemist over a lifetime—techniques she had thought required immense effort to obtain—were merely the results of Serian teaching herself.
Hersene stared at Serian in shock. The young genius continued stirring the potion with an utterly indifferent expression, as if nothing had happened.