"Alchemy," Professor Vastel began, "is the art of telling matter it has bad habits."
The class of twenty stared back at him, unblinking. Ghosts drifted overhead taking notes for us.
"The flame purifies," he continued. "The hand guides. The wallet suffers."
I raised mine. "Question — about that last part?"
"You'll see."
He waved his translucent hand, and twenty cauldrons floated into view. Each shimmered with runes for purity, containment, and explosion insurance. I chose the one least likely to resent me.
Ayaka elbowed me. "You're gonna melt something, aren't you?""I prefer 'transform violently.'""Semantics."
Refining Nothing Into Something
I drew the Nihility Fire from my wrist. It curled upward like a black-red serpent, hungry but patient. The other students backed up a meter automatically.
Vastel nodded.
"Today's assignment: refine base herbs into Celestara-grade recovery tonics. Those of you with curses, refrain from detonating."
"Encouraging," I muttered.
I fed a sprig of moon-sage and a fragment of dreamroot into the fire. It devoured the impurities, then… paused.The flame flickered blue.It didn't want to destroy; it wanted to understand.
"Alright, fine," I said softly. "We'll do it your way."
I focused, letting the Nihility Fire absorb only the rot, not the life. The herbs liquefied into a glowing amber syrup, pure and sweet-smelling.
Ayaka leaned in. "That actually looks drinkable.""Please don't drink my homework."She smiled. "Tempting."
Vastel examined the result.
"Excellent control. You may live to see lunch."
Daniel's Shadow Market
After class, Daniel appeared from somewhere, as usual. He eyed the vial in my hand. "You made that?""Yes.""And it didn't explode?""Yet."
He grinned. "Perfect. The campus black market is thirsty for novelty tonics. We'll make a fortune."
"I'm not selling contraband."
"Not contraband," he corrected. "Unregistered alternative medicine."
He dragged me into the Mirror Bazaar, a shifting marketplace hidden under the academy's glass bridges. Stalls rearranged themselves every hour. Merchants sold everything from spell ink to memories in jars.
Daniel set up our stand between a ghost fortune-teller and a guy selling emotional support slimes.He wrote a sign in elegant handwriting:
VALENTINE ELIXIRS — GUARANTEED TO FIX YOU OR TURN YOU INTO SOMETHING BETTER.
I sighed. "That's… accurate but concerning.""Honesty builds trust," he said, waving in the first customer.
Supply and Chaos
Business boomed immediately.Students wanted everything — recovery tonics, focus brews, anti-hangover potions, even one girl asking for a "confidence elixir for confessing to a demon prince."
Ayaka handled customers with her fox illusions, multiplying me into ten fake attendants to make us look busier. The mirrors loved it; they projected ads in floating text.
By sunset, we'd sold out.My pouch jingled with coin for the first time since birth.
"See?" Daniel said, counting. "Capitalism: the real magic."
"Let's not get expelled," I said, eyeing the crowd. "Professor Vastel's ghost will haunt us for tax evasion."
Ayaka sipped one of the leftover vials. "Mmm. Tastes like ambition and mild regret."
"Both key ingredients," I said.
The Night's Reflection
Back in my dorm, I poured one last drop of Nihility Fire over a fresh herb bundle. The flame flickered calmly, obeying without hunger this time.
It refined, not devoured.Created, not erased.
In the mirror, I saw my reflection holding the same vial — smiling. Not mockingly this time.Maybe the void liked the idea of profit.
I grinned. "Guess even nothingness can appreciate good business."