Chapter 7: The Weight of a Dream and a Mercenary Pact

Wendy held a corner of the photograph, her gaze lost in the image of her past self, a faint wistfulness clouding her features.

‘Had a decade truly passed since then?’

Within those clear, deep blue eyes, a fleeting shadow of sorrow, imperceptible even to herself, seemed to surface.

Wendy Rhine had been born into the venerable Rhine family.

A distinguished lineage, immeasurable wealth, and unparalleled power…

What others coveted and strove for their entire lives, proving ever elusive, was effortlessly within her grasp.

From childhood, she had been hailed as a prodigy, blossoming under the admiring, often envious, gazes of many.

Yet, true happiness had always eluded her.

Her sole passion, her true love, lay in the art of alchemy.

The wondrous formulas and principles etched within ancient grimoires, the boundless transformations of materials under the subtle influence of magic—these captivated her entirely, drawing her into an obsession from which she found no escape.

Her greatest aspiration was to become a masterful alchemist.

Her father, the Duke of Rhine, however, met this ambition with utter disdain.

“Cease this trifling with worthless stones.”

“Alchemy is no pursuit for a woman. Your proper duty, the most crucial task at hand, is to master the etiquette befitting a noble and ensure you bring no disgrace upon the Rhine name.”

The Duke’s low voice was colder, more unyielding, than stone itself.

Wendy felt a profound sense of injustice; she had attempted to argue, yet each time, the towering presence of her father and his severe gaze would inevitably make her recoil.

She found herself powerless to resist.

‘The family’s interests must always take precedence. As a daughter of the Rhine lineage, one is bound to fulfill specific obligations.’

These tenets had been drilled into her since the moment of her birth.

She was expected to be elegant, proper, and utterly flawless.

As for her ‘childish’ dream, it paled into insignificance when weighed against the formidable responsibilities of her family.

Consequently, Wendy was left with no choice but to stifle her deepest desires, compelling herself to master the detested noble etiquette and don a mask carved with a false smile.

Within her young heart, a quiet despair began to accumulate, growing steadily with each passing day.

This growing burden continued until her quasi-coming-of-age ceremony at the tender age of ten, an event that became the final straw, breaking something fundamental within Wendy’s spirit.

The events of that day cast a shadow over her entire life, one she could never erase.

The worldview she had painstakingly constructed up until that point crumbled in an instant, leaving her retching uncontrollably. Like one possessed, she fled her home, vanishing into the swirling blizzard.

Even facing the bitter certainty of freezing to death, she vowed never to return to the place that had once borne the name of ‘home’.

She was, undeniably, unfortunate.

Yet, she was also remarkably fortunate.

During her time adrift on the streets, she encountered Grant.

He was an enigmatic man, a professor of the highest echelon at Arcadia Academy, who had ventured alone into the frigid Northern Realm, driven solely by the quest for a rare and precious material.

It was he who tended to Wendy, who had nearly succumbed to the freezing cold, and subsequently brought her back to the academy, offering her sanctuary.

He never pried into Wendy’s past, nor did he ever dismiss her dreams; instead, he imparted his vast knowledge to her without reservation.

That period, without question, proved to be the happiest time of Wendy’s entire life.

Free from the burden of contemplating the future, she simply indulged in her passions, living a carefree existence in the present moment.

Yet, these blissful days were not destined to endure indefinitely.

Mere years later, a devastating inferno consumed everything she held dear, reducing it all to ashes.

She watched, horrified and helpless, as the man she revered above all others pushed her to safety, only to be engulfed moments later by the towering, infernal blaze.

The tears that welled from the corners of her eyes had no time to even trace paths down her cheeks, instead vaporizing instantly in the intense heat.

Crash!

The sudden shattering of glass jarred Wendy from her profound reverie.

Her gaze fell upon the scattered fragments littering the floor, and then to Yalin, who was clutching his left hand.

“Are you injured?”

Wendy’s brow furrowed with concern as she approached him.

“It’s nothing, I apologize for breaking the apparatus… Is this item terribly expensive? Do you require me to compensate you?”

“There’s no need. The bottle holds no significant value. Simply attend to your injury, and ensure you don’t repeat such a mistake in the future.”

Wendy stated, her voice devoid of warmth.

She had initially felt a pang of concern, but the moment Yalin began to speak of compensation, that flicker of sympathy instantly dissipated.

‘Did this person’s mind contain anything beyond the incessant pursuit of money?’

Yalin was the student under her tutelage, a relationship ostensibly that of teacher and pupil, yet both were acutely aware that their connection was forged purely by financial exchange.

Professor Grant’s research theories were notoriously abstruse and complex; even throughout the entire academy, only a select few possessed the intellect to truly comprehend them.

Wendy, notably, was one of those rare individuals.

This particular research had consumed the entirety of Grant’s dedication, representing his one unfulfilled dream.

Thus, Wendy had firmly resolved to carry on his research, determined to fulfill her mentor’s dying wish.

She had completed all of the academy’s rigorous courses in a mere two years, attaining the rank of associate professor in the Alchemy Division while still in her twenties—a feat that established the fastest record in the institution’s history.

In a certain sense, she was a genius even more prodigious than Celeste.

However, merely securing the title of professor was insufficient to ensure the continuation of the research.

The Alchemy Department, unlike its two counterparts, placed immense emphasis on theoretical knowledge.

Consequently, academy regulations mandated that every professor must mentor at least one student to aid in their research and produce tangible results within a specified timeframe.

This was, in essence, a straightforward requirement; for popular professors, overseeing a dozen or more students was a common occurrence.

For Wendy, however, it proved to be an exceptionally arduous task.

For one, she was far too young, her credentials still relatively nascent.

Secondly, the subject of her research was not only incredibly complex but also appeared to offer little in the way of future prospects.

These two factors alone were sufficient to dissuade over ninety percent of potential students.

The remaining few, for the most part, were drawn solely by Wendy’s striking beauty, their intentions far from scholarly.

Individuals whose minds were preoccupied with ‘silver worms’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term for lustful or perverse thoughts) would never genuinely apply themselves to academic research.

Wendy herself, being fiercely proud and discerning, held little regard for individuals of average intellect or ambition.

After a protracted selection process, Yalin ultimately emerged as the sole candidate who met her rigorous standards.

Despite his affiliation with the Magic Guidance Division, he inexplicably possessed a remarkably solid foundational knowledge in the field of alchemy.

Even more remarkably, he possessed his own unique insights, making him one of the rare individuals Wendy could genuinely acknowledge and respect.

Furthermore, he had consented to join her research laboratory, even expressing a willingness to transfer divisions if necessary.

By every conceivable metric, Yalin appeared to be the ideal candidate.

He presented only one, singular demand: money.

He would join, but Wendy was required to pay him a monthly salary and, furthermore, allocate project funds according to the research’s progress.

Initially, Wendy found this utterly preposterous. What kind of professor, she wondered, would pay a student for their mentorship?

The stark reality, however, was that she simply could not attract any other candidates.

Without a student, the research could not proceed, and so, with a heavy heart, Wendy reluctantly acceded to Yalin’s demand.

In any case, she was hardly lacking in funds; supporting even ten students, let alone one, would be a trivial matter for her.

Yet, she simply could not stomach Yalin’s mercenary attitude.

Despite possessing talent and aptitude that rivaled her own, he harbored no grand ideals, caring only for the paltry, immediate gains before him—a blatant squandering of natural gifts.

To make matters worse, she later learned of Yalin’s various persistent attempts to harass Celeste, which only deepened her disappointment.

To be vexed by his unfortunate circumstances, yet lament his lack of ambition—such was likely the depth of her feeling.

Wendy shook her head. ‘Never mind,’ she thought. ‘Ultimately, it’s merely a transaction where each party gets what they need.’

Yalin required money, and she required a student to fulfill the quota. Neither was indebted to the other; it was a perfectly adequate arrangement.

As she turned to depart, her gaze inadvertently swept across the shards of glass glinting within the waste bin, causing her to abruptly freeze.

‘Wasn’t that the reagent bottle, containing dangerous chemicals, that she had neglected to properly dispose of?’