Lev POV
The boy in front of him held out a piece of paper with both hands.
A club application form.
Lev stared at it.
Then he stared at the boy's face.
White hair, tired red eyes, and a strange mix of softness and sharpness that didn't quite fit with the rumours.
Soren Arden.
Lev clicked his tongue and turned away.
"Piss off," he said flatly.
He rotated back toward his workstation, pretending to focus on the still-smoking beaker in front of him; the failed mixture inside was slowly settling into a dull, grey sludge.
He ignored the sound of Soren's footsteps.
Or rather, the lack of them.
"...Why the hell are you still here?" Lev snapped after a few seconds, not bothering to look back.
He expected the boy to fidget, to force a laugh, to leave.
Instead, he heard a light, almost amused voice.
"Why don't we make a deal?" Soren asked.
Lev's lips twisted.
'A deal?'
He had heard rumours about this guy.
A class F failure.
A son who his own family barely tolerated.
What could someone like that possibly offer?
"A deal?" Lev scoffed. "As if you have anything to offer. You're basically a commoner."
He didn't bother hiding the mockery in his tone.
If someone wanted something from him, they had better come with more than just a pretty face and rumours of weird exam scores.
The boy didn't flinch.
Instead, Soren smirked.
Lev's brow twitched.
'What a weirdo,' he thought, finally turning to face him properly.
The smirk wasn't arrogant, exactly.
It was… confident, as if Soren knew something Lev didn't, and was waiting to prove it.
"Is that so?" Soren asked.
He raised his left hand.
Lev's gaze followed the movement, stopping at the sleek black ring on Soren's ring finger.
A red gemstone sat in the centre, glossy and deep, like a drop of solidified blood.
The space above the ring rippled.
Lev's eyes narrowed.
He had seen spatial rings before, but not often, and certainly not from some supposed "failure".
Soren reached into the ripple and began pulling things out.
First, several bottles of thick, yellow liquid, their contents swirling sluggishly against the glass.
Then, a gnarled tree root, dark and heavy, with veins of greenish mana faintly visible beneath the bark.
Then, finally, a massive purple orb.
It landed on the table with a dull, dense sound.
Mana pulsed from it in waves, thick enough that Lev could almost see it in the air.
He stared.
'...An Elder Ent's remains?'
His heart thudded once, hard.
The materials were absurd, rare, and dangerous.
They weren't the sort of things a random first-year should be waving around inside a shared alchemy lab.
As if that wasn't enough, Soren reached into his inventory again and tossed a pouch onto the table.
It hit with a solid thud.
Lev frowned and pulled the drawstring open.
The faint, familiar glimmer of gold coins filled his vision.
His breath hitched.
The pouch was stuffed, full to the brim; enough to fund months of experiments, if spent carefully.
He closed the pouch slowly and leaned back, staring at Soren with wariness.
"What are you doing?" Lev asked.
Soren grinned.
"I said it before, right? Let's make a deal."
Lev felt his jaw tighten.
"...What do you want?"
Soren's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'll fund your research. The medicine to cure Mana Necrosis."
Lev's stool scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet.
He stumbled back several steps, nearly knocking into the workstation behind him.
"How the hell do you know about that?" he demanded.
His voice came out louder than he intended, drawing a few glances from nearby students.
He forced his tone down and glared.
That research wasn't listed anywhere.
He hadn't submitted it; he hadn't talked about it.
He had only discussed it, briefly, with a single alchemist from his home town in one private letter.
His pulse was racing.
Soren just shrugged.
He didn't answer the question.
Instead, he continued as if Lev hadn't said anything.
"I'll also bring you materials whenever I get the chance," Soren said calmly. "Ones similar in quality to these."
He gestured toward the Elder Ent's remains.
Lev stayed silent.
His teeth dug into his lower lip, hard enough to hurt.
The numbers in his head started lining up on their own.
Materials like that.
A whole pouch of gold.
Regular support.
All for…
"What do you want in return?" Lev asked, his voice lower.
Soren lifted two fingers.
"One, I want you to be my exclusive alchemist."
Lev's eyebrow twitched.
Exclusive.
'Of course.'
"And two," Soren added, lowering one finger. "I want you to join the club I'm creating."
The room went quiet in Lev's head.
"...Huh?" he asked dumbly.
The tension had been building up, the seriousness, the rare materials, the absurd offer; it all cracked.
"Say that again," Lev said. "I must be hearing things."
"I want you to join my club," Soren repeated, smiling.
Lev stared.
He had been bracing himself for something else.
Debt slavery.
Secret schemes.
Life-or-death requests.
Drug production.
Not… this.
"But why?" In exchange for all of that, that's nothing."
A club slot?
That was trivial.
It wasn't worth even a sliver of the offer on the table.
"Hmm…" Soren tilted his head. "Well, my club only needs one more member to be created."
"Okay, but it wouldn't be hard to fill that final slot."
Anyone would jump at the chance, especially once they saw who was involved.
"Read the members written down here," Soren said, sliding the form across the table.
Lev took the application.
His eyes scanned the names.
Amelia Indras Einhardt, Princess of Einhardt.
Esper Rupindolf, heir of the Rupindolf Duchy.
Lilliana Roseblood, professor at Stellaris Academy and a duke's daughter.
Louise Cruentus, heir of the Cruentus Viscounty.
Alex, the new hero.
Lev exhaled slowly.
Almost every name on that sheet was notable, one way or another.
"What kind of cursed roster is this…" he muttered without thinking. "But this still doesn't explain anything."
Soren rested his elbow on the table and pointed lazily at the form.
"Think of it this way. Anyone we ask to join would likely say yes, but how many of those people would have innocent intentions?"
Lev grimaced.
'Fair point.'
"I'm making a club as a way to relax. A place where my friends can spend time without having to worry about anything. If someone joined just to use them, or because they wanted to stir up trouble, it would ruin everything, right?" Soren continued.
Lev found himself nodding.
He understood that part.
Still…
"Then why me?" he asked.
"There are a few reasons," Soren said, lifting one finger. "One, I need an exclusive alchemist. All of those fucking alchemists in the city are scammers. How would I be able to trust them with items like that?"
Lev snorted.
He couldn't argue with that.
He had seen it himself, alchemists hoarding formulas, overcharging for basic potions, hiding failed batches, lying about success rate.
The whole field was a mess.
"Two. I'm buying you," Soren said, raising a second finger. "Which means there's automatically a level of security. If you betrayed me and ruined my club, I could just cut you off, and it would only be you who suffered."
"Wow. Harsh much?" Lev said with a crooked smile.
He wasn't offended; if anything, he appreciated the honesty.
"And three. You're desperate," Soren finished.
Lev's expression hardened, the humour vanishing.
He clicked his tongue.
"It's similar to the second point. I don't know much about alchemy, but I know what you're trying to make is difficult. Without a sponsor, you wouldn't have a chance in hell. So you wouldn't risk losing a sponsorship just because you want to mess around, am I right?"
Lev clenched his jaw.
He hated the way Soren phrased it.
But…
He wasn't wrong.
Mana Necrosis was a death sentence.
The current treatments only delayed the inevitable.
Fixing it properly meant diving into uncharted territory, all of which required experiments, materials, time, and, most importantly, money.
Things Lev didn't have, and couldn't get alone.
"Fine," Lev said at last. "Let's say I agree. What do you mean by 'exclusive alchemist'?"
Soren's smile returned, sharper this time.
"Until graduation from Stellaris Academy, you will only use alchemy for personal use, academic work, and me. You will not sell, trade, or create items or potions for others without my express permission," Soren said, his tone shifting into something that sounded almost formal.
Lev blinked.
"That's… restrictive."
"In return," Soren continued without missing a beat, "I will provide full sponsorship, including funds, materials, and access to necessary facilities, until graduation. I will also share any relevant knowledge that might help with your research."
Lev's thoughts spun.
It was extreme.
It was binding.
It was also…
Tempting.
"Do you even have the funds to do all of that?" Lev asked, narrowing his eyes. "I heard you were broke and going around gambling."
Soren smirked.
"Let's just say I got a recent payday."
He pointed to the pouch of gold on the table.
"That's your allowance for the first fortnight," he said calmly. "And I currently have enough to fund you for half a year. Does that answer your question?"
Lev's eyes widened.
Half a year.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
His brain went through it again.
Six months of experiments without worrying about the cost at a minimum.
High-quality materials like Elder Ent remains.
Access to whatever facilities Soren could arrange through his insane lineup of connections.
"How the hell…" he whispered, then shook his head. "You know what? I don't even care."
He stared at the gold.
Then, at the materials.
Then at Soren.
"Where's the contract?"
Soren's smile widened, like someone who had known the outcome from the beginning.
He reached into his inventory again and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper, setting it on the table.
Then he took out a small vial of ink and a quill.
"It's a mana oath. If either of us breaks anything written in the contract, our mana circuits will self-destruct. We would be crippled for life," Soren explained.
Lev's pulse quickened.
"Serious, then."
"Mm."
He picked up the paper and unfolded it.
Lines of neat writing filled the page; he began to read.
The terms were written clearly.
– Lev will join Soren Arden's designated club as a regular member and assist with any administrative work, written documentation, or other duties required of him.
– Lev will retain full ownership of any personal research and discoveries, except for any projects directly funded by Soren Arden.
– Any creations using materials or funds provided by Soren Arden will be considered shared property between the two parties, unless otherwise agreed upon.
– All alchemical research, formulas, and creations developed using Soren Arden's sponsorship remain strictly confidential. Lev is prohibited from disclosing or discussing any such work, its processes, or results with anyone other than Soren Arden, unless granted express permission
– Either party may request amendments to this contract only by mutual consent. Premature termination by either side requires repayment of provided resources or an equivalent exchange, unless exceptional circumstances are proven.
– All terms of this contract shall remain confidential. Lev is prohibited from disclosing its contents or existence to any third party without Soren Arden's express permission.
Lev exhaled slowly.
They were strict.
But they were also… fair.
Mostly.
'He definitely got advice writing this,' Lev thought.
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the paper.
'Still… this isn't bad. He's not trying to steal my research.'
The clause about personal research ownership settled most of his lingering doubts; he wasn't selling his soul entirely, just leasing his alchemy to a single patron for a few years.
He pricked his finger with a small needle, letting a drop of blood form.
Then he let it fall into the ink vial.
The liquid inside darkened, then shimmered faintly.
Lev dipped the quill, brought it to the bottom of the contract, and signed his name.
As the letters took shape, the ink glowed softly, then shifted to a deep blue.
The contract pulsed once with mana.
The pact was sealed.
Soren picked up the contract, rolled it neatly, and slipped it into his inventory.
"Is there any reason you don't want me talking about this?" Lev asked.
Soren shrugged.
"You said it yourself, didn't you? I'm basically a commoner. I could be disowned any day now."
The casual way he said it made Lev click his tongue.
"What a pain."
Soren just smiled faintly and slid another sheet of paper in front of him.
The club application form.
"Now write your name here, then we're done."
Lev stared at the blank space for a moment.
Then he sighed and scrawled his name onto the line.
Soren snatched the form up almost immediately.
"Welcome to the Dessert Research Club, title pending," he said cheerfully.
Lev stared at him.
"...You haven't even come up with a name yet?"
"Anyway," Soren said, pretending not to hear. "I have something I'd like you to make."
Lev let out a short laugh.
"Already? You work fast," he said.
Soren took a small folded slip of paper from his pocket and handed it over.
"I wrote the recipe there. The materials are those over there."
He pointed to the Elder Ent's remains.
"There's enough to make three bottles," Soren went on. "If you think you can improve it, try, but you need to follow that recipe precisely for at least one bottle, got it?"
"Sure, whatever you say, President," Lev said, tucking the slip between his fingers. "What even is it, anyway?"
"Elixir of Growth," Soren replied.
Lev froze.
He slowly unfolded the paper.
The name was written at the top of the recipe.
Elixir of Growth.
"Holy shit," Lev breathed. "Really?"
"Now do you understand why I couldn't trust the other alchemists?" Soren asked with a smirk.
Lev nodded without hesitation.
Elixirs like that were nightmares.
Any alchemist would want to hoard the formula, try to steal the materials, cut corners, or "accidentally" mislabel a batch to keep the best for themselves.
Trusting some stranger with it would be insane.
"So, when do you need it by?"
"Before the mock duels, I can't budge on that."
Lev did a quick calculation in his head.
"Just over a month, then?"
"Yeah."
"Sure," Lev said. "I can do that."
"Great. Then I'll see you next week at the Dessert Research Club, title pending," Soren said, stepping back from the table.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Later," Lev replied, waving a hand dismissively.
Soren turned and walked away, slipping out of the lab as quietly as he could in contrast to how loudly he had entered.
The room calmed.
The faint bubbling of liquid and clinking of glass reclaimed the air.
Lev looked at the slip of paper in his hand.
He unfolded it fully and began to read.
His eyes scanned the recipe.
He read it once.
Then twice.
By the third time, he was laughing under his breath.
"What a freak," Lev muttered.
————「❤︎」————