Ancient Potion Club Classroom.
Moen first went to ask the teacher in charge of the club but found out that, apart from the senior, there was no spare key for the classroom. Left with no choice, he had to once again rely on his Lock-opening Skill Level 8 to open the lock, which was clearly a custom-made piece by the senior, designed to be difficult to unlock under normal circumstances.
"Why do I feel like I'm getting more and more adept at this?"
Moen chuckled self-deprecatingly and pushed open the classroom door.
There was no wind, and pale curtains remained tightly drawn. The entire classroom was steeped in a profound darkness.
Cold, quiet, and oppressive.
Normally, whenever Moen opened the door to the potion classroom, he would be filled with anticipation and excitement.
But this time, as his eyes fell upon the apparatus and ancient books that seemed as though they had been meticulously cared for by a pair of slender, jade-like hands, his heart ached painfully.
The familiar potion classroom, unchanged in appearance.
Except, the mischievous senior sister with her playful laugh and neatly tied hair was nowhere to be found.
…
Moen stepped into the classroom. The precise potion instruments were as spotless as ever, and the books on the bookshelf remained neatly arranged.
Walking to the bookshelf, Moen casually pulled out an ancient tome. Fearing damage to the book, he carefully turned the pages.
The complex ancient script resembled tadpoles wriggling across his vision. Even for a seasoned potion expert, the profound symbols would be difficult to comprehend, let alone for someone like Moen—an absolute novice who hadn't even begun to understand the basics of potion-making.
"This isn't working. I can't make sense of it. Searching like this will be no use."
"So many books... going through them one by one could take forever."
However.
As Moen's gaze swept over the neatly arranged layers of books on the shelves, a flash of insight appeared in his eyes.
Knowing the senior sister’s personality, it was unlikely she would leave something so important in an ordinary spot.
But where would she put it?
Carrying it on her person didn’t seem feasible; it would have already been discovered by the silence-enforcing mechanisms.
Moen took a step back and retreated once more to the doorway, surveying the entire classroom from top to bottom.
Club classrooms were usually fairly large.
So even though the senior sister had set apart this area for potion experiments and instrument storage, the remaining space was still quite empty.
Yet, a classroom is still a classroom—rectangular, with no apparent places for hidden compartments.
Could it be that it wasn’t kept here?
No, given convenience and concealment considerations, this would undoubtedly be the best location.
Then…
Lost in thought, Moen paced around the room.
Without even realizing it, he arrived by the window and pulled open the curtains, then pushed open the window.
Sunlight and a gentle breeze immediately flooded the space, dispelling the shadows in the room and filling the classroom with brightness once again—as it used to be in his memories.
Moen looked up and stared out the window.
Bare treetops swayed gently in the wind, set against a backdrop of verdant mountains and a sapphire sky.
From here, one could bypass the solemn and imposing academy buildings to see far and wide.
He remembered how the senior sister loved to lean against the window, gazing at the view outside.
But what’s so captivating about this scenery? Its vast emptiness only further emphasizes one’s loneliness.
Unable to understand the mind of the girl, Moen still felt an overwhelming tenderness for her.
He sighed lightly, resting his hand instinctively on the desk where the senior sister used to sit, almost as though trying to feel her lingering warmth.
Wait, hold on.
Always sat?
As if struck by a sudden idea, Moen’s eyes lit up.
In an instant, he swung himself into a sitting position on that desk.
Not to perversely savor any lingering fragrance left by the senior sister, but to examine the classroom from her perspective.
From this vantage point, the entire room was visible at a glance.
He could even see, through the deliberately arranged gaps on the shelves, the immaculate white wall at the back of the classroom.
The wall tiles on the surface shimmered with a jade-like brilliance, seemingly newly affixed marble.
But the rest of the classroom clearly bore signs of age.
Could it be..?
Moen’s thoughts raced, and he stepped closer to the wall.
Taking out Elizabeth, he gently tapped along the length of the wall tile, inch by inch.
Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, ding!
Right here!
Moen’s excitement surged as he ran his hand over the wall tile with the distinct sound.
Not a single seam or sign of any mechanism was visible.
Moreover, even if there were a mechanism, Moen wouldn’t have the means to open it. Without a keyhole, his Lock-opening Skill had no effect.
In that case...
"Sorry, senior sister," Moen murmured inwardly, gripping Elizabeth tightly. The pure white blade slid across the surface of the wall.
Like slicing through tofu, the wall was effortlessly cut open, revealing a hidden compartment behind it.
Moen leaned in and looked.
Potions of various colors were neatly arranged in a space slightly larger than a safe.
Tags clung to the potions.
Suppressive use.
Suppressive use.
Suppressive use.
Failed experiments.
Failed experiments.
Failed experiments.
…
Aside from the first row, most of the potions were labeled as failed experiments.
Though there were no detailed notes regarding specifics, Moen already had a rough idea of what these failures were related to.
"As I thought, the senior sister had been conducting these experiments all along."
The Ancient Potion Club might not only be a club dedicated to reconstructing historical potions—it could very well have been the senior sister’s place of self-rescue.
Though, as it stood now, this so-called self-rescue seemed to have yielded no tangible results.
But if the senior sister had this intent, it meant she’d glimpsed hope somewhere.
Moen’s gaze moved lower.
At the bottommost layer sat a low-profile, thin booklet.
Seeing that booklet made Moen’s breath halt involuntarily.
That must be it.
With trembling hands, Moen picked up the booklet and slowly opened it.
Experimental Records for Treating Serpent Metamorphosis Disease.
These were the opening words.
He turned the pages further.
...
Year 1057 of Life.
Conducted my first potion experiment after entering Santa Maria College.
Materials sourced from a second-year student, Don Rojed, who once decorated an entire teaching building with a thousand roses to win his girlfriend’s affection.
Result: Failure.
Notes: Don Rojed broke up with his girlfriend two months later, finding someone new.
...
The Year 1057 of Life?
Four years ago?
Which means the senior sister had started this as far back as then?
But serpent metamorphosis disease typically fully manifests and develops over one to three years.
"Indeed, the senior sister is highly unusual. And I have a hunch it’s not just this."
Moen kept flipping through the records.
...
Third Potion Experiment.
Materials derived from a freshman girl who frequently sought my advice on topics to impress a boy she liked; her gaze was pure, which provided a glimmer of possibility.
Result: Failure.
Notes: The two broke up a year later because the girl couldn't tolerate the boy’s foot odor.
...
Seventh Potion Experiment.
Materials extracted from a pair of childhood friends who had known each other for over ten years.
Result: Failure.
Notes: The pair remains together to this day. Pretending to be in love? Or perhaps my understanding was flawed?
...
Eleventh Potion Experiment.
This experiment never took place.
A graduating senior confessed his feelings to me. His sincerity was visible in his eyes.
By agreeing, I could have obtained the material I needed.
But I refused.
Anna—oh Anna, you will become a hated freak, unworthy of love.
...
Notes: That senior later badmouthed me, and I beat him up.
