Ch.73Reunion (6)

“Come in.”

They say humans are creatures of adaptation.

I was gradually accepting the fact that the Three Clans were collective nudists.

Additionally, I was getting used to walking alongside naked necromancers, vampires, and shapeshifters.

Of course, it wasn’t just because I had amazing adaptability.

If I had to name the major factors, there would be two.

One was that the necromancer before me didn’t seem particularly concerned about being naked.

The other was that her body was small enough not to stir any sexual desire.

If she had been Isla’s size, it would have been quite troublesome. I followed along with a clear mind.

We were on the upper floor of the tavern. More precisely, it was a laboratory extending from the upper floor, seemingly enchanted with magic that prevented outside observation.

I stepped into the laboratory wondering if this had been here all along.

Overall, the laboratory was very characteristic of the “Three Clans.”

Reagents were everywhere, and there was a subtle chaos mixed with what appeared to be well-organized arrangements.

To put it kindly, it looked like a proper laboratory; to put it less kindly, it was somewhat cluttered with a mad scientist vibe.

As I entered the laboratory, I voiced the question that had come to mind.

“If it was this close, why did Hertol need to leave? Couldn’t he just meet you directly?”

The alchemist turned to look at me.

“Obviously, I moved here after being chased. I wasn’t originally here.”

She appeared completely different from the somewhat pathetic figure she had shown earlier.

She walked confidently with her chest out, slapping her tail against the floor.

It was somewhat irritating. As I suppressed the urge to smack her, the alchemist shoved a workbench with her arm, toppling it over before setting it upright again.

Naturally, the books and parchments that had been piled on top scattered everywhere.

“Is she crazy?”

“It’s my laboratory. No need to worry about it, right?”

“She is crazy.”

“With that manner of speech… I should have added a knowledge injection process.”

Clicking her tongue, the alchemist brought a chair to the workbench. She placed another chair for me to sit on and then headed somewhere.

“Sit and wait.”

“What is this about?”

The alchemist had brought me here saying she would explain everything.

But now she was doing this without any explanation, causing the violent tendencies within me to awaken again.

…No, was it really my violent tendency? Thinking back to earlier, something felt strange.

It felt as if I was being moved by something other than my own will.

The feeling of being swayed by an impulse I could neither refuse nor resist. I had felt this before.

It was the same feeling I had when I grabbed Melody’s wrist.

At that time, I thought it was just some dark desire I felt toward a level 20 with only 8 strength.

But was there something I didn’t know?

I sat down on the chair with a sour expression, and soon I could see the still-naked alchemist lighting a fire on the stove, using a footstool to compensate for her small height.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m addressing the complaint you mentioned earlier.”

“Com…plaint?”

What had I said? Honestly, I had just been nitpicking, so my memory was vague.

“Didn’t you say you hadn’t eaten or rested?”

Oh, did I? As I was trying to recall, she began cooking with practiced ease.

Magic manifested with just a flick of her fingers, lighting a fire on the stove.

A frying pan that seemed to be used for experiments as well was placed over the fire, and the alchemist brought a huge egg and cracked it over the pan with a serious expression.

As her tail swished by, the yolk and white flowed from the punctured egg, filling the frying pan.

Using what appeared to be another experimental tool, she stirred it quickly, creating a strangely familiar dish.

Scrambled eggs, I suppose. It was a dish I often made for myself after my sister disappeared.

Eggs were expensive, but the landlady often brought them to me.

For someone like me who couldn’t cook worth a damn, it was a familiar dish. As a scrambled egg expert (2 years of experience), I could tell the alchemist’s scrambled eggs were excellent.

Despite the large quantity due to the enormous egg, it wasn’t burnt. While not at Isla’s level, she was clearly more skilled than me.

“I didn’t expect to entertain a guest, so this is all I have. Still, eat it with gratitude.”

As I was soaking in a subtle sense of defeat, the cooking was already done.

The alchemist hopped down from her footstool, placed the egg dish on a plate, and brought it to me.

Complete with a neatly placed fork on the plate. I stared at the food for a moment before picking up the fork and taking a bite.

“…It’s soft.”

Egg dishes are generally soft, but this one felt unusually so.

I should say the quality was good.

I had thought that since it was so large, it would be somewhat tough or have an unpleasant smell.

But it was completely different from what I expected. I quickly emptied the plate, and the alchemist grabbed a robe from the coat rack, loosely draped it over herself, and sat across from me.

“Of course. Despite appearances, I am the clan’s finest cook.”

The alchemist puffed out her chest proudly, hands on her hips.

Well, if alchemy was what I thought it was, it wasn’t unrelated to cooking, so claiming to be the finest cook wasn’t unreasonable.

But this dish clearly benefited greatly from good ingredients. Honestly, the cooking process was barely even basic.

So I snorted while chewing.

“It’s delicious because the ingredients are good. And remember, you owe me your life.”

I had a chronic condition of wanting to beat up overly confident people.

So I deliberately brought up what had happened earlier, but the alchemist didn’t seem to mind.

Instead, she made a “hmph” sound and said:

“I would have died anyway if you hadn’t taken me in. Threats are useless.”

“Why are you so confident?”

“I don’t bother with petty pride. It’s a waste of energy.”

What a strange personality. I moved my fork to put more egg in my mouth and saw the alchemist’s lips curling upward.

“Besides… if the ingredients are good, that’s clearly my merit.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an egg I laid.”

There was a sudden, intense pain. It wasn’t poison or some magic activating.

It was just that I had inhaled in surprise and the powdery yolk had blocked my windpipe.

That was all. I started coughing and spat out the egg—no, the “egg.”

It wasn’t my intention. The alchemist looked at me with a frown and said:

“Strange, I didn’t make you need to breathe… Hold your breath. For about a minute.”

It sounded like she was telling me to die, but she was right. A homunculus doesn’t need to breathe.

It was just my time as a human that made me breathe unconsciously.

Following her advice, I held my breath while clutching my rough throat, and after about a minute, I felt better.

“Are you crazy? Who serves their own eggs as food?”

“I lay them periodically, so don’t worry about it. I have no other use for them. I eat them often myself.”

“No, but…”

She looked at me as if I were the strange one. I could only tilt my head in confusion.

The necromancer alchemist was a lesser dragon, but still a dragon.

Dragons are oviparous, and not knowing much about lizard species, I had no way to refute when told that dragons lay unfertilized eggs.

But isn’t there some kind of… recognition?

Something that comes from your own body is difficult to eat.

Essentially, laying unfertilized eggs feels like the dragon equivalent of a human period, so is it really okay to eat them?

While there was no issue with the taste or smell, I pushed the plate away, feeling a subtle revulsion creeping in.

“What a waste. Then I’ll eat it.”

Grumbling about how she had gone to the trouble of preparing it, she took the plate and ate my leftover egg dish with the same fork I had used.

I watched her with a sour expression and thought:

This woman is truly insane.

I hadn’t noticed when I was about to beat her up earlier, but how should I put it?

There was an efficiency to her that was extreme to the point of being bizarre.

Yet she was confident, showy, and lacking in common sense.

The worst combination was her lack of common sense and her efficiency.

And true to being a monster of efficiency, the alchemist cleanly finished her own egg.

Judging by how she flicked her long, purplish tongue like that of a dragon, she even seemed to enjoy it.

No, no matter what, it came from her own body…

Regardless of my discomfort, she wiped her mouth and said:

“Well then. Now that the meal is over.”

Is this the main point? As I leaned forward, the alchemist looked at me.

Asymmetrical mint-colored hair with one eye slightly raised.

A small face framed by voluminous medium-length hair. That face wore a serious expression.

“Did you really kill Hertol?”

“Yes. It wasn’t long ago.”

Just a few hours at most. I had just gone back to see my sister and returned, so the smell of blood still lingered on me.

The fatigue of battle still remained in my body.

If I weren’t a homunculus, I would have collapsed long ago.

This body was a monstrous physique that didn’t feel fatigue.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel mental fatigue.

I wanted to curl up next to Isla, hugging her tail, and fall asleep, but the reason I was here instead was simple.

The entity that controlled Hertol and made the clan and empire hostile toward me.

This alchemist seemed to know something about it.

“Hertol was—”

“Ortemilia.”

What is she saying? As I looked at her, she placed her hand on her scantily covered chest.

“Or call me Rtera Burger.”

It was her name. A long name like Nerilmaeus.

Well, I couldn’t keep calling her “you,” “alchemist,” or “tiny dick.”

I nodded and leaned in further.

“Hertol left to meet you, Rtera, according to Edilum.”

“Edilum… did you kill him too?”

“No, Hertol did. He crushed his head right in front of me.”

Rtera raised one eyebrow, seemingly surprised.

But soon she sighed, saying, “As expected.”

“You know something.”

“Of course. I anticipated something would happen. But… not this quickly.”

Clicking her tongue, Rtera leaned back against the chair. She stared off somewhere with her half-naked body.

“…The assassination of the five grand dukes.”

She spoke after a long pause.

“The imperial civil war, and last year’s great chaos.”

All were incidents attributed to the Three Clans. As I looked at her, her vertical pupils turned toward me.

“Do you know?”

The necromancer also known as an alchemist asked me.

Coming from someone who had declared herself one of the creators of homunculi, it sounded strange.

“I know. Vaguely.”

“Do you know the common thread?”

Common thread?

I rolled my eyes to look at the empty space.

The assassination of the five grand dukes was carried out by the Three Clans to expand their influence within the empire.

The civil war was the same, as was the great chaos.

At least that’s what I knew, but I suddenly felt that such an obvious answer wasn’t what she was looking for.

It was intuition.

“It seems different from what I know. No, it feels different from what’s commonly known.”

“You’re quick-witted. That’s good. You’re correct.”

Her body leaned toward me. Afraid I might see something I shouldn’t, I quickly raised my eyes to find her staring intently at me.

“Those three incidents were all ‘stolen’ from the clan while they were in progress. As a result, they ended up working completely differently from what was intended.”

Stolen incidents.

I frowned at the strange wording.

“And Hertol became like that while investigating it.”

She was now pointing at me with her tail.

“But there is one more thing that was ‘stolen’ like those.”

Stolen incidents. Strange wording. I realized what her tail was pointing at and opened my eyes wide.

“Wait, are you saying…”

“Yes.”

The necromancer called an alchemist, one of the creators of homunculi.

She said:

“The most successful test subject and the perfect recreation of father’s flesh. The adult form.”

Her tail brushed against my hand. The sensation of cold yet soft scales. I unconsciously swallowed.

“You are an experimental subject that was stolen and hidden by the one who controlled Hertol.”