Roselyn's private lab was a small room attached to the Alchemy lecture practice hall.
To most students, it was nothing more than a storage space. Her senior professors often treated it as one too, filling it with old teaching materials and broken alchemical tools.
Considering how the room was used, it could also be called a warehouse.
But compared to the days when she had to conduct secret experints in her cramped 70,000 Rend-a-month apartnt, this room felt like a luxury.
Back then, she had to deal with nosy neighbors complaining about the sll of potions or the noise from bubbling flasks.
To make matters worse, she had to scavenge for broken tools from garbage heaps and only experint when the apartnt was nearly empty.
Now, she had a place where she didn't have to hide. Now, she had spare tools that were tossed aside by her seniors professors all free for use.
To them, it was unusable. To Roselyn, it was more than enough.
Of course, when it ca to sensitive research, she still had to work from her apartnt.
Professor Claude insisted on it, warning her that other professors might steal her work if she left it in the lab.
Despite Claude's constant beratent and harassnt, Roselyn put up with it. She endured it all for this small, imperfect space she could call her own.
Here, she could dream of her future.
"Roselyn, hand over the thesis you wrote."
At those words, Roselyn's heart sank. She lowered her head, knowing this mont was inevitable.
Professor Claude had once told her, "I'll give you the opportunity to present at the Alchemical Engineering Conference."
An opportunity.
It was supposed to be a chance for Roselyn, an unknown alchemist, to finally show her worth.
But in reality, it was nothing more than a shackle.
Using the pretext of an "opportunity," Professor Claude had been keeping her shackled.
However, she had no choice.
"You can always try again next year, right?"
"....Yes."
Her hands trembled as she clenched her fists beneath the desk. She hated it. She hated him.
Three years. No, maybe it was longer than that. It felt like her entire life as an alchemist had gone into this research.
From the dim rented apartnt where she barely had space for a table….
From the cramped storage room where dust seed to suffocate her….
She had worked tirelessly, step by step.
Each tiny breakthrough had filled her with joy.
Each discovery had made her heart race.
But now, Claude was here to tear it away like a thief stealing a painter's canvas before the final stroke.
"Do you understand?" Claude said in that sa soft, sickening tone. "I'll help you prepare properly for next year's conference."
Lies.
He wasn't going to help her. Next year, he'd take her work again and call it his own.
"....Yes," she could only nod her head in agreent.
What else could she say?
Claude had too many connections. If she defied him, he could ruin her career with a single word.
One rumor, one call, and she'd be blacklisted from the Scholars Institute forever.
"Now, hand it over," he said, holding out his hand as if asking for sothing he already owned.
Roselyn moved slowly and gathered her paper with numb fingers. Her hands shook as she placed it in his outstretched hand.
Claude took it without a second glance, like it was a routine errand, nothing more.
"Oh, and if you can prepare another thesis paper in ti, I might be able to get you into this year's conference," he added with a smile.
"....Okay."
"Keep working hard," he said, before turning toward the door.
The mont he left and the door clicked shut, Roselyn collapsed into her chair.
"Gosh…."
Her body felt heavy. Her head hung low as her gaze fixed on the empty desk in front of her—the space where her research had just been.
"...."
Another paper? The next conference was only a month away. How was she supposed to prepare sothing new in such a short ti?
It felt impossible.
The weight of it all pressed down on her. Roselyn tapped the nearly–broken flash in front of her. She felt like crying at that mont.
Slam—!
Suddenly, the door flew open with a bang, flustering her.
"Ah?!"
Roselyn shot to her feet, frantically brushing off her lab coat.
"P–Professor Vanitas! W–What are you doing here?"
Standing in the doorway was none other than Vanitas Astrea, the professor everyone in the university had been talking about lately.
Claude had warned her before, 'Vanitas is far scarier than .'
And though he had helped her once, she'd also heard unsettling rumors about him in the past.
Now that he was here, unannounced, her heart pounded in her chest with unease.
Vanitas's eyes scanned the room, taking in the clutter of books, tools, and glassware.
Then, his gaze finally settled on her, causing Roselyn to swallow deeply.
"You're…. Roselyn, correct?" he inquired.
"Y-Yes, Professor," she replied quickly, nodding. "T–That's !"
Vanitas stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. Each step he took felt heavier than it should have, as if the air itself grew denser.
Roselyn felt her throat tighten. Why is he here?
He didn't say a word. Instead, he walked slowly around the room and scanned the chalkboard covered in her diagrams and formulas.
"...."
Roselyn's face grew hot with embarrassnt. Her fingers twitched at her sides.
'Of all the days, why today?' To show this incomplete, ssy work to soone like him? It felt like being exposed.
She bit her lip nervously. Looking at the door, she wished she could run.
'He's going to criticize it. He's going to say it's sloppy. He's going to—'
"This is impressive."
"Ah?"
Her head snapped up as her eyes widened in disbelief.
"The structure and logic is clear. Even the deviations are purposeful," Vanitas muttered.
He tapped the chalkboard with a finger.
"This correction here…. This wasn't in any standard textbook."
"...."
Her breath hitched. 'He noticed that?'
"You did this yourself, didn't you?" he asked, turning to face her.
"..."
Roselyn froze, unsure how to respond.
"I.… I just thought it might work better that way," she said, glancing down at her feet.
"It does," Vanitas replied. "It's better than what they teach in the departnt."
Her eyes widened even further. 'Did I hear that right?'
"Then…. it's not wrong?" she asked cautiously, as if afraid of jinxing it.
"Wrong?" Vanitas tilted his head slightly. "No, it's better than most of the work I've seen from full–fledged researchers."
"...."
His words hit her like a shock to the system.
Better?
Her hands gripped the edges of her coat. Her lips parted, but no words ca out.
Complints weren't sothing she received often. Sure, a few students she'd faced before had thrown so her way, but they were rare.
But a genuine complint from a professor?
That was a first.
Vanitas's eyes narrowed, studying her face. "Who taught you to doubt yourself like that?"
"...."
"Don't answer," he said, stepping back. "I already know."
Her heart sank. Her mind imdiately thought of Claude.
Vanitas glanced at the desk cluttered with beakers, half-finished notes, and scribbled ideas.
Approaching it, he picked up one of her old notebooks. The edges were worn, the pages covered in rough sketches, formulas, and mistakes crossed out so many tis the paper had worn thin.
Fixing his glasses, he flipped through it slowly.
"Three years," he muttered.
"....Y–Yes?"
Roselyn's body stiffened.
"Three years' worth of trial and error," Vanitas continued, not looking up from the notebook. "I can see it all right here."
"Ah?" she blinked, unsure how to respond.
He snapped the notebook shut and set it on the desk with a soft thud.
"Considering all the research cramd into this, you should have at least one successful result, right?" he said, his eyes locking onto hers.
"I… I…"
Vanitas's eyes shifted to the left. Then to the right. Finally, his gaze settled back on her.
"I don't see anything."
"...."
His words cut deeper than any insult. 'Is that why he's here? Just to mock ?'
If so, he didn't need to bother.
Three years….
Her gaze dropped to the floor. Even she didn't know why she was still here. All that effort, all those sleepless nights, and for what?
"Nothing to show for it?" Vanitas asked. "All that work, and all I see are half-finished notes, corrections, and broken attempts."
"...."
Her nails dug into her palms.
'He's wrong. He's wrong.'
"Here's a question, Roselyn," he said. "Who are you working for?"
Her head shot up as her eyes widened, confused.
"What?"
"Who are you working for?" Vanitas repeated. "Is it Claude? Is it the departnt? Is it the university?"
Her lips parted, but she had no answer.
"Because from where I'm standing," Vanitas said, tilting his head slightly, "it looks like you're working for everyone but yourself."
Her eyes fell to the notebook, feeling her vision blurring. The scribbled notes, the rough sketches, and the crossed-out lines stared back at her like scars on paper.
It was her work.
But it also wasn't.
"....Please," she whispered.
"Yes?"
"Get…" she muttered, her voice cracking.
He leaned forward slightly. "Can't hear you."
Her head shot up, and her eyes burned with a sudden intensity. Her hands fell to her sides. She was no longer trembling.
Instead, all she felt was anger. Who was he to speak to her like this? He wasn't the professor she was under.
"Get out," she said, dropping all pretense of respect.
Vanitas's eyes widened slightly. Then, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So you can speak for yourself," he said, stepping back.
His gaze lingered on her for a mont longer, as if taking in the change he'd just witnessed.
"....Why exactly are you here, Professor?"
Vanitas didn't respond and turned toward the chalkboard, as if he couldn't read the mood.
Slowly, he moved to the other side of the room, where another set of formulas and sketches covered the board.
"....?"
Roselyn watched him closely. Her brows furrowed in confusion.
'What is he doing?'
"This is complete," he said, tapping the board with two fingers. "So, where's the thesis paper?"
"I.… gave it to the professor," she muttered.
"To Claude?"
Nod.
"Why?"
"There's a conference soon," she said. "The professor will present my paper there. It's a good opportunity. My research will be seen by so of the most distinguished alchemists…."
"So it was taken from you."
"N–No, it's just—" she stamred, her hands twitching at her sides.
"Is your na even on it?"
Her eyes darted to the floor. Her lips quivered.
Slowly, she shook her head.
Her fingers curled into fists as she spoke quietly, almost like she was trying to convince herself.
"But…. it's okay," she said, her voice cracking. "This is all part of the experience. The alchemy industry is like that. I'm not the only one being taken from. Everyone goes through it."
"...."
Vanitas didn't say anything. His eyes stayed on her, like he was seeing straight through her words.
She avoided his gaze, feeling his judgnt pressing down on her.
The world of alchemy wasn't like other fields. It was small.
If she offended a senior alchemist, she could kiss her dreams of becoming an alchemist goodbye.
Suddenly, Vanitas grabbed a piece of chalk and started writing on the incomplete formula in front of him.
"W–What are you doing, Professor?" Roselyn asked, her voice filled with panic.
But Vanitas didn't respond. His hand moved steadily and drew over the existing formula, adding new lines and symbols.
Her heart sank.
He's ruining it….
'What is he doing!?'
The incomplete diagram on the board was The Mana Crystallization Formula.
It was a formula proposed 300 years ago by the legendary alchemist Albert Magnus.
Despite centuries of effort, no one had managed to complete it.
The Mana Crystallization formula remained the ultimate goal of alchemists, with progress only reaching the fifth layer to this day.
"Ah?"
Her eyes widened as she focused on the chalkboard.
Professor Vanitas wasn't just scribbling or drawing nonsense.
He was filling in the blanks.
"No…. no, that's impossible," she muttered.
Vanitas stepped back, setting the chalk down on the edge of the board.
He turned around and looked directly at her.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"How…."
Roselyn took a shaky step forward as her eyes locked on the board.
Her heart thudded louder with each step.
Her eyes moved quickly across the chalkboard, taking in every change Vanitas had made.
It wasn't finished. There were still gaps, but the parts that had left her stuck for years were now in place.
'He filled them in.'
Her breath grew shaky, her chest rising and falling as she stared at it.
She'd been working on this since she was fourteen. Every attempt ended with her hitting a wall.
"This.… this part," she muttered, pointing to a section of the mana cycle. "I tried this configuration before, but the interpolation loop kept destabilizing. How did you—"
"No, not ," Vanitas interrupted. "It was you."
"Ah?" Roselyn blinked.
"Is anyone else here to claim my statent is false?"
"What are you…."
"It was all you, Roselyn," he said. "It was your ideas. Your progress, that made this possible.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a mont, she just stared at him.
"Now," Vanitas continued, glancing back at the board. "If you manage to finish this, you'll have sothing to present at the upcoming conference, won't you?"
Her heart stopped for a mont.
Her eyes darted back to the board.
The lines. The flow. The connections.
'If I finish this….'
But…. if professor Claude finds out—
"Don't let him take your work again," Vanitas said, as if he had just read her thoughts.
Her head shot toward him with her eyes wide open.
"If he tries, tell ," Vanitas said, assuring her.
Her eyes locked on his in disbelief and confusion.
"You'll…. help ?" she asked.
Vanitas tilted his head slightly.
"I don't help people who won't help themselves," he said plainly. "But if you fight for it, I'll make sure no one takes it from you."
"...."
Her chest felt tight, and her heart pounded like a drum.
For so long, she'd believed she had to handle it alone. That if she asked for help, they would take advantage of her again.
Would she believe him? It was hard…. truly hard. She had been betrayed and hurt so many tis before.
But…. if his words were true….
'Fight for it.'
Her eyes drifted to the chalkboard.
Her board.
Her work.
Her progress.
***
Vanitas sat in his office, rubbing his arm. He had just lost it recently, and the doctor advised him to get a proper dium as soon as possible.
Until then, he promised himself to avoid using spells beyond the advanced level. But it would only be a matter of ti before he broke it.
That was where Roselyn ca in.
She was the only one who could do it.
Roselyn, the woman destined to inherit the legacy of Albert Magnus, was the only person capable of turning both the Nun's Azure Shard and the Ethereal Fragnt into a powerful dium.
But that wasn't all.
Only she had the potential to fully unlock the Coin of Resonance.
Vanitas had told Soliette that he had a lead on the Archive of Havens. He promised her that when the ti was right, he would find her.
That ti would co once Roselyn had transford the Coin of Resonance into a proper key.
A key that could open hidden vaults scattered across the world.
If there were any clues to the location of the Archive of Havens, it would be there.
It had to be.
Moreover, in the first place, the formula Vanitas had written down wasn't his own.
It was Roselyn's.
At the current tiline, it would be in the future. But in his playthroughs, she had already done it.
But in every tiline, Claude had stolen it from her. He took her research, claid it as his own, and displayed it as his personal achievent.
When Roselyn fought back, she was branded a liar.
They had blacklisted her from the Scholars Institute, shutting every door of opportunity in the alchemy industry, ruining her na and career in the process.
No, perhaps, her entire life was ruined.
She was a flower that had never blood, but one that had already begun to wither.
In the end, Roselyn took her own life.
But not this ti.
This ti, he wouldn't let that happen.
Not in this one-life run.
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