Chapter 6: The Unit Crisis and the Dragonkin Roommate

The Alchemy Hall was a short distance past the Swordsmanship Hall.

The Alchemy Hall was a stone building that gave off a feeling of being both somehow classical and practical.

“We’re here. This is the Alchemy Hall.”

William’s face was as gentle as usual as he spoke.

It was hard to believe he was the same person who had been on the verge of fighting with Kyla just moments ago.

But Kyla still had a sullen expression.

No, her expression now seemed even more displeased than when she was at the academy’s main building.

Tarsha could figure out the reason without much difficulty.

“Ugh. The smell of herbs.”

Kyla waved her hand around her nose.

“I don’t really smell anything in particular.”

“That’s because you’re dull. I’ll be waiting outside, so you two go on ahead.”

Leaving the scowling Kyla behind, Tarsha and William stepped inside the Alchemy Hall.

The first thing that caught her eye was a massive hall.

Corridors branched out from the hall like tree limbs, seeming to indicate that departments were divided even within the Alchemy Hall.

“You need permission to enter the laboratory buildings outside of class hours. Please follow me.”

As Tarsha followed William into the hall, a subtle smell brushed past the tip of her nose.

The further she walked inside, the stronger the faint smell became.

The somewhat smoky smell was similar to a forge.

If there was a difference, it would surely be in what was being burned.

A blacksmith burns iron, and an alchemist…

‘I don’t know for sure, but maybe they burn things like herbs.’

In any case, it wasn’t an unpleasant smell.

As she slowly savored the scent, Tarsha and William soon arrived at a door at the very end of the corridor.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

When William opened the door, a white-haired old man stood up from his seat.

His old robe, covered in mottled stains, suggested he had devoted himself to research until his hair turned white like that.

“Sir William? What brings you all the way to the Alchemy Hall?”

The old man’s voice was hoarse, as if mixed with sand.

“It’s been a while, Dean Osbar. I’m here to introduce a transfer student who just enrolled.”

William placed Tarsha a step in front of him.

Tarsha greeted him politely.

“My name is Tarsha, and I have just transferred to Ceylon Academy.”

“She is the creator of the pattern-welded steel I mentioned before.”

“Pattern-welded steel? Ah. You mean that wave-patterned sword.”

Osbar Dellihen.

The head of the Alchemy Hall, famous for having dedicated his entire life to alchemy, scanned Tarsha up and down.

His gaze was filled with deep skepticism.

The pattern-welded steel was certainly impressive.

Its principles were not easily understood by the common sense of alchemy he had studied his entire life.

However, that alone was not enough to change the perception of the magicless that was rooted within Osbar.

She made iron harder.

So what’s next?

What more could a blacksmith who had never received a systematic education, had lived in the countryside far from magic until now, and couldn’t even sense the flow of mana, possibly show?

Was it truly right to admit someone to the academy based on a single case?

Of course, Sir William must have made that choice because he saw some potential in that woman.

However, in the eyes of Osbar, who had lived as an alchemist for a long time, he couldn’t see even a speck of the potential that William had seen.

‘If I had my way, I wouldn’t want to spend any more time on this, but…’

Since William brought her here himself, I should at least show her the proper courtesy.

“Alright. What business does a newly transferred student have in the Alchemy Hall?”

“Actually, I really wanted to see the inside of the laboratory.”

“Hoh. Are you interested in alchemy?”

“Yes.”

Tarsha answered immediately.

Osbar opened his mouth, as if to gauge her for a moment.

“I’m saying this out of caution, but alchemy is not such an easy field. If you approach it with the shallow thought that there might be something even a magicless person can do, you’ll be in for a rude awakening.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

Tarsha answered immediately, as always.

‘Did she really understand?’ Osbar, half in doubt, took out a permit from his drawer and handed it to Tarsha.

“A tour is fine, but do not touch anything carelessly. Even materials that look insignificant are all dangerous to a magicless person.”

Tarsha bowed her head and left the room.

William, who followed her out, glanced at Tarsha’s expression from the side.

The words Dean Osbar had said midway were a bit too aggressive to be considered mere advice.

“Miss Tarsha. Perhaps what Dean Osbar said…”

“Yes? Said what? More importantly, which way is the laboratory?”

However, contrary to William’s worries, Tarsha replied nonchalantly.

It didn’t seem like she was acting, either.

Her two eyes were sparkling as they were fixed on the permit in her hand.

William let out a hollow laugh as if he found it absurd, and led the way towards the laboratory.

“…It’s nothing. Now. Please follow me.”

Passing through the door with a sign that read ‘Laboratory’, a long, straight corridor revealed itself.

Through the doors of the several labs lining the corridor, she could see colorful smoke rising or liquids emitting strange light boiling.

Students and researchers were moving about busily, absorbed in their experiments.

“Oh. Ooooh…!”

A gasp of admiration burst from Tarsha’s mouth.

The place, filled with materials she was clearly seeing for the first time, was a more splendid playground for her than any theme park.

Among them, what caught Tarsha’s eye the most were none other than the beakers and flasks.

Glass existed in the medieval era, but it wasn’t as transparent as that.

It was because there were too many impurities in the sand, and the shape of the particles was not uniform.

But those beakers, while not as good as modern glass, were sufficiently transparent.

They must have used a special material that didn’t exist on Earth, or it was the result of some magical treatment process.

Tarsha lost track of time as she looked around the laboratory.

If she had her way, she would have run in right away to ask what substance they were mixing and what reaction it was causing.

But because William was watching with gleaming eyes beside her, Tarsha could only shed tears of blood internally and quietly watch the experiments.

At the end of their path, Tarsha arrived at the last room.

Above the door hung a sign that read ‘Material Analysis and Measurement Room’.

Gulp.

Standing in front of the door, Tarsha swallowed dryly.

The forge had measuring tools, but they were all crude and poorly managed.

But this was the prestigious Ceylon Academy.

This place would surely be different from the forge.

“…Alright. Let’s check.”

Creeak.

As she opened the door and entered, various tools were neatly arranged inside.

“Oh? This is better than I thought…”

Her mouth, about to say ‘the management is good’, clamped shut.

It was decently equipped, but upon closer inspection, minor yet significant flaws caught her eye.

A bronze scale and weight set.

Contrary to its appearance, the joints of the scale were not oiled, which would cause errors due to friction when weighing.

Moreover, the units of the weight set were, as if it were a matter of course, pounds, ounces, and grains.

For reference, 1 pound is 16 ounces, and 1 ounce is 437.5 grains.

The most ridiculous thing was the standard beaker.

The surface of the beaker was clean, but looking closely from above, the glass thickness was not uniform.

This made accurate measurement impossible due to the refraction of light, no matter how well the gradations were marked.

Of course.

The unit for the standard beaker was the pint.

Tarsha rummaged through her distant undergraduate memories and barely recalled how much a pint was.

One pint is about 0.473 liters.

At the same time, it was also about 0.568 liters.

That’s right.

The unit changes depending on whether it’s the US or British system!

This f*cking stupid yard-pound system!

“Gyaaaaaah!!!”

Tarsha dropped to her knees, clutched her face, and screamed as if the world were ending.

She had hoped.

She thought that even if mages disregarded the importance of measurement and used the barbaric yard-pound system, alchemists might be different.

But that hope had now turned to despair.

Alchemists were slightly better than mages, but from my perspective, they were still below standard.

Thinking that, Tarsha wailed endlessly.

Endlessly.

Just endlessly…

---

The sky was already tinged with the evening glow.

After being more or less kicked out of the Alchemy Hall, I eventually visited the Swordsmanship Hall and the Magic Hall.

Due to the shock from the Alchemy Hall, I couldn’t remember much of what happened there.

Having finished all my appointments, I was heading alone to the Ceylon Academy’s female dormitory.

Even as I walked, my mind was filled with only one thought.

“If I want to make anything, I have to do something about the units first.”

The existing measuring tools could not be trusted.

Even if they used the yard-pound system, if the measurement itself was not a problem, the calculation formulas would just become disgustingly complicated, but seeing the state of the Alchemy Hall, even that was a luxury.

In this world, ‘a world that poured all its resources into the development of magic instead of mathematics and engineering,’ if I wanted to design anything, a standard that I myself could accept and trust was essential.

The one silver lining was that I had the concept of the SI unit system in my head.

Of course, how to realize it was a problem I had to think about slowly.

“Oh, look over there. I think that’s the transfer student.”

“It really is. The one who was with Instructor William during the day…”

“I heard from a second-year senior that she had a fit when she saw the measuring tools in the Alchemy Hall.”

When I suddenly heard noises from my surroundings and lifted my head, I had already arrived at the dormitory.

When I looked around, the chattering disappeared in an instant.

The students who had been looking this way either stared at a distant mountain or turned their gaze away from me with awkward gestures.

“…What is it?”

Ah.

Is it because of my clothes?

My current attire is still the same as what I wore at the forge.

In this place where everyone wears a uniform, it’s impossible not to draw attention when I’m the only one dressed like this.

‘Is tomorrow the day I say goodbye to these clothes too?’

Feeling slightly disappointed, I entered the dormitory.

For some reason, I kept feeling gazes on me, but strangely, no one approached me to talk first.

When I visited the US for a conference, people would strike up a conversation even if we just met in an elevator.

This world uses the US customary system, but it seems the people’s mindset isn’t the US style.

“Let’s see. Room 303… 303… here it is.”

Opening the door labeled 303, a small entrance hall greeted me.

Surprisingly, there was a shoe rack in a corner of the entrance here!

Having a shoe rack meant that you enter the room without wearing shoes.

In my past life and now, it was an ironclad rule for me not to get on the bed even with socks on, so I entered the room with a happy heart.

“You’re quite late.”

And I met her.

Small horns protruding from between long, black hair.

A woman with black scales on various parts of her body, and above all, a large, lizard-like tail swishing back and forth.

“Are you Tarsha?”

Thud.

She closed a thick book and stood up.

For some reason, her voice was full of dissatisfaction.

She stared at me silently for a long time before finally opening her mouth.

“I’ll be blunt. This isn’t the place for you.”

This isn’t the place for me?

Only then did I realize why she was so displeased with me, a complete stranger.

Ah!

I must have gotten the wrong room!

“Ah. Sorry. I’ll leave right away. I must have been mistaken.”

I turned my back to her and went out of the room.

And I looked at the door again.

303.

Even after rubbing my eyes and looking again, the number written there was 303.

I opened the door again and peeked my head in.

There, my roommate was standing still in the same posture as before, looking this way.

“This is room 303, isn’t it?”

The moment I uttered those words, for some reason, my roommate’s face contorted with anger.