Chapter 5
✠
After our fruitful time in the kitchen, Prinz and I headed to the alchemist’s lab. He had yet to return from the herbal merchant. Healers were rare on the continent of Serentra.
Divine power users were few and far between, even more so than magic and aura users. Not only were they difficult to awaken, but private employment of divine power users was impossible due to the monopoly on them held by the religious order.
The religious order would occasionally dispatch healers to territories and fiefdoms that had their own dungeon expedition task forces, but the Gilette family had lost their swordsmanship lineage and did not apply to such circumstances. Even wealthy Count Gilette had to personally visit the Grand Cathedral if he wanted to be seen by a healer.
Regardless of the healers’ reputation, aristocrats still refused to stand in line at church when they got sick. Fortunately, though less effective than the healing powers of a healer, healing potions created by alchemists could be used as replacements.
Affluent noble families would hire exclusive family doctors and alchemists to take care of their health. Leonard Rodeline was one of many alchemists that were employed in such a manner. He was actually considered to be exceptional at his job. He had proved his skills during Loop Ten when he saved the protagonist with advanced healing potions.
“I think we’re all out of ointment for cuts.” Prinz searched the cupboard because I didn’t know what the ointment looked like.
I found it a bit weird that the ointment had run out, especially because it was such a commonly used salve. You’d think he would make more of it.
Prinz solved the mystery. “The head maid often steals it. For skin… nourishment? Anyways, she said something like that.”
“What? You didn’t tell the butler?”
“They’re all in on it together. The butler, head maid, and even the doctor...”
That certainly made things more complicated. I guess we had no choice but to wait until Mr. Alchemist returned.
But Prinz’s somber expression caught my eye. “Does it hurt a lot?” I asked.
“N-no, not at all. It’s just...”
“Just what?”
“You said you’d put the ointment on for me.”
Welp. If that’s the reason why he’s sad, then that leaves me no choice. I briefly scanned the lab. It seems all of the materials and equipment needed to make the ointment were in order.
⟬«System» You’ve successfully purchased [Job Advancement Package (Non-Combat)]⟭
⟬«System» You have chosen [Descendant of a Great Alchemist] - Your alchemy skill is now Lv. 1. You are now able to [Analyze Alchemic Ingredients], [Craft Beauty Creams for Smooth and Moist Skin], and [Craft Fragrant Natural Soaps].⟭
“Hmm. Looks like I still have to level this one up.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
The only items unlocked for crafting at level 1 were makeup and soap It seemed like potions and ointment can only be crafted by level 2 and higher.
I guess it’s for the best. There were plenty of ingredients all around and lots of ways to utilize makeup and soap. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to work.
“Let’s get started.”
✠
“Allie? Prinz?”
Having finally returned home after a long day, Leonard was surprised by what he found in his lab. Ailette and Prinz were sound asleep sharing a single blanket. The lab was a mess, unlike when he left earlier.
However, upon his desk was the most noticeable difference. Dozens of glass bottles filled with various substances were neatly lined atop it. Fiddling with the ribbons that had been tied around the neck of each bottle, Leonard observed them closely. On the tails of each ribbon, someone had painstakingly penned tiny labels in careful handwriting.
⟦Liquid Soap for Lathering⟧, ⟦Moisturizing Cream⟧, ⟦Wrinkle Cream⟧, and ⟦Chapstick⟧.
He was astonished. “There’s no way my children performed alchemy.” Then he spotted a small note that had been left for him to find.
⟦Sorry for using your things without your permission! Give the soap to the servants and the creams to the countess. I’m sure she’ll love it. - Ailette⟧
A beauty potion present! I’ve never even thought of doing this! Despite his talents in alchemy, Leonard had zero social skills. All he did was read books day and night while conducting research in his lab. He didn’t even know that beauty products were a big hit amongst alchemists because they could be sold commercially.
He certainly didn’t have the social tact to understand how he might gain favor in the eyes of his employer, the countess. In truth, it was only natural for Ailette to know more about makeup than her father, since she’d been exposed to so much of it in her previous life.
Could it be?! My daughter is a genius...! Ahem. No, no. I mustn’t make the same mistake other fathers make. Let’s be rational here. Her attempt to help me is admirable, but the quality might not be very good...
Leonard blocked out his wild thoughts—he could be a real pushover when it came to his daughter. He opened up the potion and began to run some quality checks. He unscrewed the lid with bated breath and applied some to his skin.
“How could this be!” The effects were incredible. Even Leonard, who was quite ignorant when it came to beauty products, could see the exquisite glossiness and hydration it brought to his skin.
My daughter is a genius! Leonard was starting to think it might be okay to fawn over his daughter. On second look, he noticed an ointment sitting next to the beauty potions. There was no doubt about it. She even came up with items that were imbued with healing properties.
My child has the potential to become a grand alchemist. In all seriousness, I need to start teaching her immediately. Leonard held Ailette in his arms and gently carried her to the bed. His face was all smiles as he lovingly embraced his daughter. It was truly a look of unwavering, unconditional love.
✠
That night as I dreamt, I revisited a rather gloomy memory. It was when I was ten years old in my first life before I transmigrated. I had already parted ways with my real family forever. It was immediately after I lost my dad and brother that depression hung over my every thought like a dark, haunting cloud.
Despite my emotional turmoil, I was forced to learn how to mind other people’s feelings before I even understood my own. Very fortunately, my uncle and his family took me in, otherwise, I would have been sent to an orphanage.
They moved into an upscale three-room apartment as soon as they decided to adopt me. Their new place was much nicer than the studio apartment they used to live in, but my uncle and aunt would quarrel day in and day out to the point where they slept in separate bedrooms. My cousin, who was two years younger than me, refused to share and insisted on having her own room.
That left me no choice but to stay in the living room. I wasn’t ever really discontent with what I had. Rather, I was thankful and always apologetic. I mean, what more could I ask for? They took me in as a part of their family despite how they struggled with money.
Of course, this gratitude was all back when I was naive and innocent. I never imagined that their posh apartment had been purchased by selling the old house I used to live in with my dad and brother. I did not suspect this in the least and always tried to do whatever I could to make up for the burden I caused them. I never had a mom around when growing up and always saw my brother do household chores while my dad was at work.
I tried to remember and mimic what my brother used to do and to help out around the house as much as possible. My aunt, who was a full-time housewife, seemed very pleased that I did the dishes, laundry, and cleaning all by myself. Growing up motherless, I craved praise and recognition from adult women and tried even harder to please my aunt. Household chores naturally became my responsibility.
Then the fateful day came around. It was the weekend, so I woke up around lunchtime, only to find the house empty. I washed the mountain of dishes and cleaned up around the house as I waited for my family to return so I could eat lunch with them. I was worried when they still weren’t back late into the afternoon, but I couldn’t call them since there was no landline at home and I didn’t own a cell phone.
They didn’t return home until much later in the evening after the sun had set. I rushed out at the sound of the door, just glad that they were safe. The first thing I saw was the cute, colorful headband on my cousin’s head that had stars on spring coming out from it. The kind you get from amusement parks. I could hear myself stammering as I asked them if they had already eaten. They mumbled that they weren’t very hungry and went into their respective rooms.
It was understandable that they weren’t hungry. They had returned late in the evening, after all, reeking of barbecue. Following that incident, I found myself in an empty house every weekend. At some point, I began to just go ahead and eat meals all by myself. I tried to be understanding since we weren’t really a family, but there was one thing that I couldn’t figure out.
My uncle’s family had always struggled to make ends meet. So how could they suddenly afford to dine out every weekend? It wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I learned about what they were doing—they had snatched up and squandered my father’s assets, insurance money, and even the settlement money to that they could fund their lavish lifestyles.
Meanwhile, on the day I asked if I could attend just one cram school, they scolded me. I felt so bitter and dejected when I saw that my cousin was being forced to go to five cram schools that she didn’t even want to attend.
I went to a playground across the town to bawl my eyes out because I had no room of my own to cry in. My uncle and his family became even more antagonistic toward me when I finally asked them where all the money had gone. They told me I was ungrateful and that it was so calculating of me to be focused only on money.
I knew there was no use talking to them, so I kept my mouth shut and tried to endure it just until I was old enough to move out. Looking back, I realize how easy I must have been to manipulate. I never even really went through adolescence. It wasn’t like I had a choice. You can only act childish if there’s someone to parent you.
I tried to ride it out for the year and a half that I had remaining living in their house. I didn’t want any trouble and I believed everything would be okay if I kept my head down. But, of course, that was just wishful thinking. The problem was that I frequently had nightmares and would often cry out in my sleep.
My cousin would storm out in the middle of the night to yell at me, calling me an insane freak. But it wasn’t something that I could consciously fix. Even now.
“Mom... Dad... Don’t leave me...”
“Allie?”
“Oppa... Don’t leave me... I promise I won’t steal your snacks... I’ll give you half of my chocolate milk. Oppa, Oppa...”
Suddenly my hands were wrapped in warmth. It was a new experience and I felt surprised even in my sleep. A soft, warm lullaby-like voice surrounded me.
“Shh, Allie. You must be having a bad dream. It’s going to be all right. Daddy’s here.”
“Dad...?”
“That’s right... It’s your dad.”
“Are you really my dad...? That’s strange. My dad...” My voice choked and I couldn't complete my sentence.
But my “dad” comforted me. “Of course, it’s your real dad. I’ll be right here next to you until you fall asleep again.”
“Promise... You promise?”
“Yup, pinky promise.”
The warm feeling traveled up my hands and to my body. I fell right back asleep, comforted by this newfound feeling of relief and security.
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