Chapter Thirty-One: Creating a Flavorful Love

In the alchemy chamber of the temple, Victor sat on a chair with a grave expression. The current situation left no room for carelessness. Scientific advancement inevitably demanded sacrifice, and in the ancient process of developing potions, the final and indispensable step was always to taste the concoction oneself.

After a moment’s contemplation, he tilted his head back, drew a deep breath, and swallowed an entire vial of pale green potion in one go.

Victor focused intently on sensing any changes within his body. As the effects of the potion took hold, a primitive, desolate growl slowly welled up from the young man.

Outside the lattice windows, the signs of a summer afternoon thunderstorm gathered with such force—within half an hour, dark clouds shrouded the sunlight, and the sky deepened to a somber gray, nearly night.

At last... A smile of relief and satisfaction appeared on the young man’s face. The potion’s creation was an unqualified success. He slotted a dozen of the freshly made vials into a rack and stowed them carefully in a storage box.

Tucking the box securely under his arm, Victor was in high spirits. It was time to find Matron Nannic and report his achievement.

There is a saying: “If one gains glory but does not return home, it is like wearing fine clothes in the dead of night.” In other words, accomplishment is only truly meaningful when shared with those who knew you before you succeeded. In more specialized circles, it means that if you achieve something, you must share it with those who understand, for those who do not will never grasp the magnitude of your feat.

He was a little unsteady on his feet as he rose from the chair, but quickly regained his balance and composure.

...

After the afternoon teaching discussion concluded, the priestesses filed out of the classroom in turn, ready to impart what they had learned to the younger female students.

As Priestess Aerola left, she passed Victor, who was waiting at the doorway, and gave his arm a gentle, smiling pat.

Victor responded with a polite bow.

Priestess Hroswida, on the other hand, wore a stern expression. She disliked Victor—she was an ascetic, after all—but still offered a slight nod, as the boy was a guest of the temple.

Victor bowed to her as well. He respected these women, and their feelings toward him were of no consequence.

After the last of the priestesses departed, Victor strode into the classroom, calling out cheerily, “Matron, here I am!” and greeted the High Priestess Nannic with a bright smile.

“You seem to be in fine spirits, child. What brings you to me?” The priestess sat in the mentor’s chair, setting aside the book she had just been reading.

He pulled up a chair opposite her and set the storage box of potions on the table. Beaming, he declared, “I did it, ma’am! I’ve developed a new potion! And with it, I can finally rid myself of the threat posed by Sir Thales!”

After more than ten days of effort, his labor had borne fruit. Victor’s heart brimmed with genuine joy. Whether it was pioneering something from nothing or reviving a long-lost formula, either feat was a victory filled with a sense of accomplishment.

That pure sense of wonder... like the moment a puzzle is completed, or a tower of blocks stands tall—a joy that belongs to the act of creation itself.

Sensing the boy’s exhilaration, Priestess Nannic patted his hand with gentle affection, helping him calm down.

She knew that aside from his work in the greenhouse, Victor had spent every day in the alchemy chamber, but she had never imagined he’d been working on a new potion.

As the High Priestess of Meritelia, she understood better than anyone the difficulty of developing a new formula. Simply distinguishing the properties of each herb and recording the unknown reactions that resulted from their mingling took years of accumulated experience. Achieving a targeted, stable result in the end required not just skill but an extraordinary amount of luck.

Thus, the notion of producing a new formula in just over ten days was unthinkable—such things belonged to the myths of ancient days, feats ascribed to the children of fate. The more one understood, the harder it was to believe; to be frank, Nannic sometimes suspected the old stories were exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.

But after their daily exchanges in the greenhouse, and more than ten days of acquaintance, the priestess knew Victor was no braggart. He was a cautious, steady, and precociously thoughtful youth.

So she was half convinced, half skeptical, as to what he had truly achieved.

Patting his hand as it rested on the desk, and feeling him settle, she smiled kindly. “Very well, tell me from the beginning—how did you manage this? What have you made?”

With his initial burst of joy subdued, Victor answered in a poorly disguised, casual tone, “It all started the day Thales arrived. I was slicing up a camouflaged mushroom—a herb recorded as being able to ease chest pain—”

Nannic nodded; she knew these mushrooms, thriving in shadowed corners, their rock-like appearance often overlooked, yet they needed little care, flourishing in the greenhouse environment.

“That evening, after a simple test confirmed they weren’t toxic, I tried eating a slice. To my surprise, I discovered a rather unique effect.”

A gleam lit Nannic’s eyes. Yes, the development of new potions often began with just such a serendipitous discovery.

“I stood up,” the boy said.

“...What?” For once, the High Priestess, usually so unruffled and assured, looked genuinely puzzled.

Suppressing a laugh, Victor repeated, with emphasis, “I stood up.”

“…Ah! I see.” The High Priestess’s expression brightened with sudden understanding. After all, a matron is always a matron, well acquainted with the troubles of adolescent boys.

This discovery was indeed intriguing. She nodded and pressed on, “But how can you be certain the effect was due to the camouflaged mushroom, and not just natural instinct or some other factor?”

Victor was at a loss to explain, since in truth he had used mysterious alchemy to confirm it. When he brewed an elixir with the mushroom as the main ingredient and produced a potion that induced arousal, the unmistakable result proved its potent effect.

So, “I made an educated guess, boldly assuming it was the cause!” Victor replied, his face resolute, leaving no room for doubt.

The High Priestess considered and accepted this; many herbal remedies had been discovered in just such a way.

With that hurdle cleared, he continued readily, “And then, quite unexpectedly, on my third attempt at combining herbs, I stumbled onto a recipe that was both safe and maximized the mushroom’s effect.”

In truth, Victor had used mysterious alchemy to experiment multiple times, then deduced the best combination from the finest result, optimizing the process from there—saving huge amounts of trial and error.

The priestess did not question this further; the birth of a new formula could not entirely discount the possibility of such goddess-blessed luck.

At this point, rain began to drum against the windows, a sudden outburst from the brooding, near-night sky—the long-anticipated summer thunderstorm had at last arrived, raindrops tapping crisply on the glass.

Victor naturally paused his explanation. After all, words only went so far; proof lay in the result.

He pushed the storage box from beside him to the center of the table. “This new potion, crafted with the camouflaged mushroom as the main ingredient, I have named—”

With a click, he opened the lid, revealing a dozen glittering, emerald-green vials.

“Thunderlord!”

At the instant these words left his lips, lightning split the sky, thunder rolling in a continuous, triumphant crescendo.

In the flickering light, Victor’s otherwise unremarkable face shone with the undying radiance of scientific achievement.