Cynthia stood motionless in front of the white walls of the lab, observing every corner of the place, fixing her gaze on the students preparing for their experints. The dull light of the lamps was reflected in the crystalline containers that rested on the tables, shining with an intensity of a silvery tone. After a mont, she walked away unhurriedly and sat in a corner, as if the environnt around her did not matter to her in the least.
I approached her, after a slight sigh, since we were in the sa group.
"Hello, it seems that this ti we got soone we know," I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere as I greeted her.
Cynthia looked up for a mont, barely looked at , and answered indifferently,
"Ah, yes..."
Silence soon reigned between us, like a fog. I was not one to talk much, and apparently Cynthia was not either. I felt a little uncomfortable, but to my relief, the third mber of the group appeared at the right mont. She was a girl with thick glasses, short hair, and her delicate figure almost went unnoticed among the others.
"Hello... hello," she said, whispering, and her eyes looked at the floor, avoiding any eye contact.
I greeted her cordially, observing at the sa ti the curious thing about this group.
The teacher, a figure who today wore a white robe embroidered with the number VI, spoke to us. Her presence seed to fill the room.
"Well, since everyone has already ford groups, allow to begin," she said, looking at each of us, with a calm but deep voice that resonated throughout the place. "As we worked previously, you should already be familiar with the basic thod of alchemy. Now, my assistant here will give you the formula. You have exactly two hours to make and deliver the potion. Good luck!
***
Cynthia was the first to react. Quickly taking the initiative.
"First, pass the aspistol leaves and the gogonea roots. You, get ready, have the containers ready," she ordered the girl with glasses, who nodded imdiately, obeying without question.
I, for my part, began to grind the remaining aspistol leaves with a mortar and pestle and mixed it with a bit of drackar sap, a magical tree that grows only in the northern lands, whose sap helps heal wounds.
The mixture generated a viscous fluid. Which I poured into a glass container designed especially for alchemical fluids, then began to heat it in constant intervals of thirty seconds.
Suddenly, Cynthia looked at with wide eyes, and her words ca out with unexpected fury.
"What are you doing?!" —she scread, her eyes full of disbelief.
—You don’t see, do you? —I answered, looking at the gently bubbling mixture.
—No, all I see is that you’re about to do all this wrong —Cynthia said, annoyed, and her tone revealed a mix of frustration and fear.
—It’s much more efficient to do it this way —I comnted, without stopping moving—. This thod removes impurities from the ingredients faster and improves the quality of the potion. The key is in the resonance of the sap with the gogonean roots.
She looked at with a raised eyebrow, clearly skeptical.
—Uh-huh, of course... And your thod is better than that of the great alchemists who have perfected this for centuries? —she said, with a sarcasm that did not hide her doubt.
—Okay, stop this nonsense —she comnted. But before she could continue, I stopped her.
"Wait," I said, holding up a hand. "If my thod proves incorrect, we’ll know in about twenty minutes, when the ingredients are preheated. If my potion fails, I won’t say anything or bother you. I’ll just follow your instructions. What do you think?"
Cynthia crossed her arms and looked at with disdain.
"I don’t have an opinion. I don’t like wasting ti. Take that away right now!" she exclaid, impatiently.
I didn’t want to co to this, but sothing inside couldn’t let it go. I decided to play the last card I had left in this situation.
"Let’s bet," I said, with a slight smile. "Give thirty minutes. If I can’t prove that my thod is more efficient, I’ll be your slave for a month."
Cynthia frowned, and for a mont seed to consider my proposal. Her look went from skepticism to slight confusion, but then her face softened. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks.
"Slave?" she murmured, almost without realizing it. Then, her eyes t mine, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
She finally sighed.
"Okay, you have a deal," she said, with a small smile. "So, I just need to wait half an hour, right?"
"Yes," I answered, calmly, knowing there was no turning back.
"Okay. What do you need to do?" she asked, now more animated.
I was surprised by the change in attitude, but smiled at her willingness.
"Ah... are you going to help ?" I asked, sowhat bewildered.
—Of course, after all, we are a team. I am not that narrow-minded —she said, looking in the eyes.
—Well, then hand the centrifuge and add the gin powder to the mixture. Also heat it on low heat and in a thirty-five second interval, increase the temperature. Then, gradually decrease it —I said, organizing everything quickly.
—And... too... —the other girl stamred, as if doubting herself.
—Oh, right. What was your na? —I asked, looking at the girl with glasses.
—L...Lucia C-Clark —she answered, visibly nervous.
—Well, Lucia, you take charge of recording the whole process. At the end, we have to deliver the report.
***
Since everything was organized, I concentrated on the mixture, adding the last ingredients with precision. The air was filled with a sweet, earthy scent. After fifteen minutes, the liquid began to emit a golden light, and its fragrance filled the laboratory, intoxicating everyone with its exquisiteness.
The students looked in our direction, the teacher approached, attracted by the fragrant sll of the mixture, the aroma was exquisite and top quality, and Cynthia looked at in bewildernt.
It was the low-rank recovery potion, but with much greater effectiveness than any similar potion on the market. The teacher stopped in front of us, and upon seeing the report, her eyes shone with admiration.
"Excellent work. Not only have you shortened the ti, but you have also improved the existing potion," she said, and her voice reverberated with an authority that she could not hide. "How did you achieve these effects?"
Cynthia and Lucia gave the credit without hesitation, and the teacher looked at , her eyes shining with fascination.
—Student Cyan, would you be interested in being my personal assistant in the advanced alchemy laboratory...?
"Boom..."
Before she could even finish her explanation, which was a common occurrence in these labs, an explosion rumbled at the other end of the lab, and a cloud of smoke rose into the air. The professor bolted, leaving a trail of magical energy in her wake.
As she had to move quickly and instruct the youngsters, she could only throw a few words at .
"Co see when you have ti," she said, as she made her way to the crowd.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I had barely managed to escape a fate worse than death. Postgraduate studies were tempting, but ti was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I couldn’t be her assistant. There were more important things I had to deal with, and honestly, reliving that experience wasn’t very pleasant, rather it ended up becoming a burden.
Cynthia was still there, surprised, she was lost in her thoughts as if the professor’s words were still hovering around her. mind. Her face reflected doubt, fascination, the desire to follow that path that had seed so inhospitable to .
Her hand rested weakly on my side, trying to get my attention almost as if she were looking for sothing more than support.
"You’re really amazing," she said, her voice wrapped in sincerity sounded a little loud even though her words flowed naturally and reflected an unexpected softness.
"Well, it’s sothing I hear often," I said honestly and confidently. My voice projected an incredible confidence that didn’t seem to let itself be impressed, at that mont our eyes t and I could see how the corners of her mouth raised slightly.
I smiled at her too, but sothing strange happened. My vision blurred for a mont and I saw a woman with blue hair lying on a river of corpses. Blood was falling in heaps from her mouth, her blue eyes reflected a helplessness and reluctance towards the death that was slowly embracing her. The woman, with the little strength she had left, articulated her last words, but nothing could be heard, only painful moans, then, as if transmitting her sincerity in so way, the words reached like a bucket of cold water in the middle of a winter night.
"I... Love... You" was the only thing she asked to understand, before returning to reality.
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