"Who's that?"
"That crest on the carriage... that's the insignia of House Beraunbella!"
"A count?!"
Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd.
Since the rise of the Bloody Emperor, a great number of nobles had been purged. Those who remained were either extremely lucky—or dangerously powerful. And unlike in the Re-Estize Kingdom, noble titles here carried real weight.
The young man stepping out of the carriage leaned on a ruby-encrusted cane, though he walked perfectly fine. It was more fashion statement than mobility aid. But sharp-eyed onlookers quickly noticed something else—his right hand was hidden within his sleeve.
The blond youth stepped down from the carriage and immediately looked toward Lyle, his eyes narrowing instinctively upon seeing his black hair and young age.
"Good morning, Master Alchemist Lyle," the youth greeted warmly, with a slight bow and a genteel smile. "I am Joshua St. Elra Adebayo Beraunbella. May the fragrance of the ziya blossom bring you luck today."
Then, turning slightly, Joshua addressed the others crowded around the courtyard, his expression still friendly. "Everyone, would you be so kind as to let me go first?"
Silence fell. No one answered—and no one refused.
"Very well, come in," Lyle said calmly, giving the scene a brief glance before turning to head back into the courtyard.
Joshua followed, still smiling, while the butler who had arrived with him stayed at the entrance, standing like a statue.
Once the heavy door closed behind them, tension spiked again among the waiting crowd. If the first chance was taken, then everyone else would have to fight for the second. After all, who knew how long this mysterious alchemist would continue offering free treatment?
Inside the courtyard, the two sat facing each other.
"Before we begin," Lyle said evenly, "I must remind you—my regeneration potion only works on injuries acquired after birth. Congenital deformities can't be healed."
Joshua didn't react with anger, though many nobles would've taken offense at such bluntness.
"Not effective on birth defects, hmm?" he murmured, then calmly raised his concealed right arm.
It was missing a hand. The end was scarred and misshapen—clearly a result of injury, not birth.
"I'm going to have to reopen the wound," Lyle said, eyeing the ruby scepter clutched tightly in Joshua's other hand. "It'll hurt. I hope you can endure it."
"A little pain is nothing compared to living without a hand," Joshua said with a laugh.
Without further warning, Lyle picked up a mithril knife and sliced into the scarred limb.
Joshua screamed.
His face turned ghostly white, twisted in pain. And for the next hour, he endured pure agony.
As Lyle applied his regeneration elixir, the new flesh had to be shaped and trimmed repeatedly. The process was less like healing and more like sculpting a hand out of raw, living material.
When Joshua finally left in his carriage, his clothes were soaked through, his body shivering uncontrollably, and his face pale as parchment.
"He really is just a normal human," Lyle muttered, watching the carriage disappear. His furrowed brows slowly relaxed as a glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes.
Then he turned to the gate. "Next."
Meanwhile—
After leaving the common district, Joshua's carriage took a sharp turn, bypassing the noble quarter and heading straight for the central boulevard.
It accelerated, speeding past the central plaza and toward the imperial palace.
The palace, a Byzantine-style structure, was lavish even by imperial standards. Inside one of its smaller, opulently decorated chambers, crimson silk carpets covered the floors, and golden candelabras cast a steady glow—though it was daytime, no shadows lingered in the room.
At a large desk sat a figure with short, finely cut golden hair. Four thumb-sized, oval-shaped ornaments, arranged like a floral circlet, adorned the sides of their head. They wore a robe of black and gold, elegant yet comfortable.
Long, violet eyes glinted with intelligence and power. Every inch of this person exuded the presence of a born ruler.
This was none other than His Majesty, the Bloody Emperor—Jircniv.
"Your Majesty, he has returned," a secretary whispered as he bowed and approached cautiously.
"Send him in," Jircniv replied with a slight smile, pausing his paperwork.
Click.
Joshua entered, kneeling on one knee with his head bowed and one hand placed solemnly over his chest.
"Your Majesty."
"Well?" Jircniv asked, his voice light, almost amused.
"I've acquired it," Joshua replied immediately. He raised the ruby scepter—his ever-present companion—and suddenly drove its tip into his newly regenerated hand.
Squelch.
Blood gushed forth, but none of it touched the floor.
Instead, it was drawn into the ruby, absorbed completely.
In moments, the regenerated hand began to shrivel, drying up as if the life had been sucked out of it. The gem pulsed with a crimson glow, and within its core, droplets of shimmering azure liquid began to condense.
By the time the process ended, Joshua's hand had turned to ash and scattered to the floor. The precious potion had been fully extracted.
"Your Majesty," Joshua said reverently, offering the scepter.
"Have it sent to the Ministry of Magic for analysis. Good work, Joshua."
At the emperor's gesture, another courtier stepped forward and took the scepter.
"It was an honor, sire," Joshua said, bowing deeply before exiting the chamber.
"Any updates on his background?" Jircniv asked, his eyes returning to the documents on his desk.
The secretary straightened and reported, "There's very little to go on. What we do know is that he's registered as an adventurer under the Re-Estize Guild."
"What rank?" Gilgeckfur asked, tapping a finger against a parchment.
"Bronze—lowest rank," the secretary replied.
"Oh?" Jircniv paused, then let out a soft chuckle. "The Adventurer's Guild really is still clinging to that archaic ranking system."
His eyes gleamed faintly. "Mobilize our assets hidden in E-Rantel. I want everything there is to know about this man."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
That night, back at the courtyard—
The little Barghest lay on the grass, happily gnawing on a Ogre's spine like it was the world's best chew toy.
Across the yard, Lyle looked at Imina, who stood with arms crossed, clearly annoyed.
"Things not going well on your end?"
"Not going well?" Imina huffed. "We're being targeted. That's what's going on."
She looked more irritated than usual.
"Suddenly, no one is selling Ogres anymore. Every supplier's dried up. Someone's cutting us off."
"That is a problem," Lyle admitted with a chuckle.
"You think?" Imina shot him a glare. "This is all your fault, genius alchemist. Couldn't you have waited a little before making something miraculous?"
She sighed dramatically.
Honestly, she hadn't expected him to actually pull it off.
"Ruff!" The Barghest suddenly perked up, ears alert, and turned to face the eastern wall, teeth bared and growling.
Thud, thud, thud!
Three figures vaulted over the courtyard wall, landing silently in the grass—only to lock eyes with Lyle and Imina, who were already watching them.
"Well, well. Looks like you've got company, genius alchemist," Imina said, her tone almost cheerful.
Her fingers were already resting on the hilts of her twin daggers, purple ponytail flicking behind her as she grinned. "Need a hand? I'm running a special tonight—friends-and-fools discount."
The air grew heavy.
Lyle didn't look at the intruders. Instead, his gaze turned in the opposite direction.
There, at the shut gate, stood a hooded figure cloaked in grey. No one had noticed them arrive.
Imina saw them too—and her face changed.
She stepped forward instinctively, placing herself between Lyle and the newcomer.
"Hey. You might want to leave this one to me," she said, voice tense.