Friday arrived far too quickly.
The entire week had passed in a haze of classes, club searching, physical exhaustion, and Lilliana-related humiliation.
Before Soren even realised it, the deadline for club applications was staring him in the face.
By tonight, he had to submit the finished form.
If he failed, every one of them would be thrown into the vice-principal's study club for the rest of the year.
A fate worse than death as far as Soren was concerned.
Yet the biggest problem remained unsolved.
He still hadn't found the eighth member.
Soren slumped over the cafeteria table, staring blankly at his food as his friends watched him with varying degrees of worry.
"Cutie, should I just invite one of my friends?" Esper asked, her brows knitting together.
"I could invite someone too," Felix offered, though his tone was reluctant.
But Soren immediately shook his head.
"No. I don't want to invite someone I don't know," he said firmly. "Plus… we have to be careful of ulterior motives."
Silence fell around the table.
None of them argued, because every single one of his reasons made sense.
Even now, even after returning to relative normalcy, Soren still flinched around unfamiliar men.
Still froze up if someone he didn't know grabbed him suddenly.
Still had scars of that night buried deep beneath the surface.
And beyond that, their group was full of high-status figures.
A princess.
Two dukes.
A viscount.
A count.
The hero.
Someone would absolutely try to join the club for connections alone.
Nobody wanted that, least of all Soren.
"Well… I'll figure it out by the end of today," Soren said with a forced smile. "I already told Lilly, but if needed, I'll bribe someone."
A couple of them sighed, but they nodded.
This was Soren, after all; they trusted him to pull it together somehow.
Alex, perhaps sensing the tension, shifted the topic.
"Oh, right. Soren?" Alex said.
"Yeah?"
"What did you do with those materials?"
Soren blinked.
"Materials?"
"The ones from the dungeon," Alex clarified.
The moment Alex mentioned them, Soren's memory jolted.
The very purpose of going into the dungeon in the first place.
"Oh. Right." Soren clicked his tongue. "The plan was to turn them into an elixir. An Elixir of Growth, to be more specific."
Olivia leaned forward.
"What's stopping you?"
"What's stopping me is that alchemists are scammers by nature," Soren muttered bitterly.
Felix laughed once.
"Hard to argue with that."
"I looked around the city a bit. There are plenty of people skilled enough to make the elixir… but none I trust," Soren said, expression sour.
With materials as rare as an elder ent's core, root, and sap, the risk was too high.
If the alchemist ran off with the ingredients, he couldn't do anything about it.
"It would be nice if there was someone trustworthy…" Soren grumbled.
Esper raised a hand.
"Should I introduce you to my family's personal alchemist, Hubby?"
"Tch. Rich kids," Felix said with a click of his tongue.
But Soren froze.
Because Esper's comment triggered a memory.
A student.
Someone he had made use of a fair few times in his time playing the game.
Someone talented, surprisingly so.
Someone who hated nobles, ignored status, and was too tired to care about social ladders.
A first-year alchemist.
"...I just thought of someone," Soren said.
He stood so abruptly that the bench screeched across the floor; he grabbed his tray and nearly ran toward the return counter.
"Wait—Cutie?" What about club stuff?" Esper called.
"I'll send in the application later, later!" Soren shouted over his shoulder. "It'll be sorted out before evening!"
His friends exchanged confused looks as Soren vanished out of the cafeteria doors.
Then they shrugged and returned to eating.
They were used to it.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
Slam!
The door to the alchemy lab burst open with a violent bang, startling several passing students.
The smell hit him immediately.
Chemical fumes, metallic scents, burned powder, all of it mixed into a nauseating cocktail that forced Soren to wrinkle his nose.
He stepped inside anyway.
'Ugh… I forgot how bad this place would smell…'
A row of doors stretched down the long hallway, each labelled with a different year group or research sector.
Soren brushed past students in protective coats, ignoring the bubbling sounds and faint crackles coming from various rooms.
As he scanned doorplates one by one, footsteps approached.
A teaching assistant, a young man in a white robe, stopped beside him.
"Do you need assistance?" the assistant asked.
"Yes," Soren said. "I'm looking for someone. First-year student. His name is Lev."
The assistant nodded.
"Follow me. He should be in the beginner labs."
Soren followed silently as they weaved through the hall.
Every step deeper into the building intensified the chemical smell, making his eyes sting slightly.
He suppressed the urge to cough, keeping his face neutral; no way was he allowing the vice-principal to drag him into the study club just because he couldn't handle a little smell.
Eventually, they reached a door labelled [First-Years].
The assistant pushed it open.
The moment Soren stepped inside, the stench doubled.
His steps faltered.
'Oh god.'
Inside the spacious room were dozens of small desks, each equipped with burners, tubes, beakers, and protective glass panels.
Students moved carefully, holding their tools with precision.
Or less-than-precise ones, judging by the occasional pop or spark.
Soren walked slowly across the room, careful not to bump into anything that looked flammable.
His eyes swept across the rows of seated students…
…and then he saw him.
Tucked away in the far corner, completely isolated from everyone else, a brown-haired boy sat hunched over a workstation.
Soren approached carefully, then slowed as he reached him.
He didn't speak immediately.
He was curious.
Lev's desk was covered in tools and small glass containers of different colours.
The boy held an eyedropper with steady hands, though his expression was exhausted, irritated, and, honestly, a little murderous.
He carefully tilted a vial over a small beaker.
One drop.
Two drops.
A soft bubbling sound.
Soren leaned forward slightly to observe…
Boom!
A small explosion burst upward from the beaker, sending sparks and smoke into the air.
Soren flinched violently backwards.
His stool screeched across the floor as it slid behind him; several students looked up at the noise.
Lev's eyebrow twitched.
Slowly, he turned his head toward Soren with the exhausted stare of someone who had not slept in at least three days.
His tone was flat, sharp, and hostile as he asked:
"...Why are you here?"
Soren instinctively flinched.
His fingers curled slightly, and his shoulders tensed.
Even now, even after all of his healing, men with sharp tones still made something inside him jolt.
But he steadied himself.
He forced himself to breathe.
He wasn't that helpless anymore.
"...Let me introduce myself properly first," Soren said, lifting his chin with practised politeness he absolutely did not feel.
He slipped a piece of paper from his inventory.
The club application form.
He held it out toward Lev with a small, hopeful smile.
"I'm Soren Arden," he said. "And I'd like to ask if you want to join my club."
————「❤︎」————