Chapter 75.2

“Ah, of course!”

Even as this brief conversation passed, I continued to produce the mana potion without a pause.

Even with Balzac standing right next to me, he watched with sparkling eyes as if everything I did was fascinating and amusing.

Still, it seemed he had enough sense not to bother me after his initial question about gold.

“Hmm!?”

But even Balzac couldn’t help but flinch at a certain moment.

“Are you throwing away those high-grade magic stones?”

In the end, he couldn’t hold back and mumbled his question out loud.

“That’s right,” I replied, nodding lightly since I had just finished an important step in the process.

“That’s expensive.”

“…Yes, it is.”

During the production of the mana potion, three high-grade magic stones had lost their light.

A magic stone losing its light meant it had become an ordinary stone.

‘Without a mana engine, rubber, an aether circuit, or a mithril container, I have no choice but to grind up the magic stones and force-feed them into the process.’

The result of sacrificing those magic stones was a blue liquid that barely filled half a beer mug.

“Three high-grade magic stones, and that’s all the potion you got?”

Balzac grimaced, clearly stunned.

“It’s not just the magic stones. The other materials aren’t exactly cheap, either.”

“Exactly. This is as wasteful as trying to make gold using alchemy.”

“You mean that thing where it costs 10 gold coins to make 1 gold coin?”

“…Yes.”

“Dear heavens… Even if we deal with the plague, it’s still going to be a problem.”

I felt the same way as Balzac. I didn’t expect the yield to be this small.

‘Three high-grade magic stones for just 500 ml of mid-to-low-grade mana potion… And that’s with my Luck stat applying.’

Even with the bonus effects of my Luck stat, this was all I could get. The more I thought about it, the more chilling it felt.

‘No matter how you spin it, using this much money to make mana potions is not a sustainable solution.’

It became clear that mass production of mana potions was out of the question.

I had braced myself for it, but the cost was beyond excessive.

It felt like burning down my house and melting gold just to drink a sip of soda.

‘There’s no guarantee that Entir will be able to bring me everything I requested.’

Even if I poured more money into it, I couldn’t be sure I’d be able to make more mana potions.

Sure, I could scrounge up high-grade magic stones from the North, but the rare medicinal ingredients and alchemy materials that couldn’t be sourced locally had to be obtained through Entir.

But would the Empire really let that slide?

‘I need to prepare an alternative to the potion.’

I began setting up a new process on the alchemy production line. This time, I prepared leaves, paper, mid-to-low-grade magic stone powder, and medicinal ingredients.

‘I never thought I’d have to use this like this… I was saving it for a more critical moment.’

This was supposed to be a hidden card I’d use as leverage when I needed to put the witches to hard work later on.

But it seemed I had no choice but to bring it out now.

***

Isabelle was experiencing one of the rarest luxuries she’d had in her 240 years of life.

“Don’t worry. You’re fine, old lady.”

She was receiving a massage directly from none other than Arina, the Grand Duchess of the North.

“…”

Isabelle, drained of mana to the point where even speaking was difficult, looked at her liege with a faint smile, the kind only a grandmother could give.

‘What kind of bloodline produces such a kind-hearted child…’

A sense of pride, known only to her, bloomed in her heart.

‘Whose bloodline, you ask? Mine and Rune Renslet’s, of course. Hohoho…’

The North was dangerous, and the situation for the witches was bleak.

Yet, strangely, Isabelle felt neither sorrow nor loneliness.

After all, right before her eyes was Arina.

“Your Highness! Apologies for being late! I’ve brought Sir Arad!”

Her dependable “little rascal” Balzac was here, too.

“Granny! Sir Arad!”

“Apologies for the delay, Your Highness!”

And the Northern sorcerer, a man who could resolve any situation.

Arad Jin is here now.

“Excuse me, Miss Isabelle.”

As soon as Arad arrived at the palace hall, he carefully pulled out a clear bottle filled with a blue liquid from his bag.

‘Mana…?’

The moment Isabelle saw it, she could sense it.

She knew exactly what that blue liquid was.

“Good thing I made a syringe right after I heard about the pandemic.”

Muttering to himself, Arad immersed something peculiar into the container with the blue liquid.

It was a silver cylinder, about the size of two fingers, with a thick needle attached to the front.

“This is going to hurt.”

Tap tap tap

With a sharp motion, Arad rolled up Isabelle’s left sleeve and plunged the needle into a vein.

Isabelle, her strength drained from mana exhaustion, could only blankly watch as Arad performed the procedure.

“The needle has a tiny hole in it.”

“Indeed. To craft such a precise needle… It’s remarkable craftsmanship.”

“You’re injecting the mana potion directly into her veins?”

“Administering mana potions straight into the bloodstream… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Didn’t they say he’s skilled in healing arts too…”

Arina and Balzac watched the process with wide, curious eyes, their gazes glued to Arad’s movements.

The effect took less than five minutes.

Isabelle slowly moved her body, feeling her mana fill up to about 30% capacity.

“H-How is this possible…?!”

She stared at Arad, wide-eyed with shock.

“Now then, would you be so kind as to tell me the story?”

Arad, with a somewhat blunt tone, directed the question at Isabelle.

“Story, you say, President Jin?”

“Yes, tell me the full story of how this mess came to be.”

“A story, huh… I’d like to tell you, Sir Arad. But because of the curse, I can’t.”

“Is that curse what’s draining everyone’s mana?”

“That’s right.”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Then what’s going on right now? You haven’t broken the curse, yet you’re still fine.”

“This… This is…”

Isabelle trailed off, unable to continue.

“Let me rephrase my question. If you broke the curse now, what would happen? For instance, if you tried to tell me more about the curse, what would happen to you?”

“The mana I just recovered would drain away again.”

“All at once, like before?”

“That was a rare exception… Normally, I’d lose my mana gradually but quickly.”

Even just saying that much caused cold sweat to bead on Isabelle’s forehead.

“Repeated bouts of mana exhaustion… It would eventually make it impossible to use magic again.”

“I know. It’s a punishment worse than death for those who have mastered magic.”

“Exactly, Sir Arad.”

Hearing Isabelle’s explanation, Arad’s eyes gleamed.

“Then that means, theoretically, if I can keep replenishing your mana, I can hear the truth from you.”

“Theoretically, yes. But that mana potion… I could tell as soon as I took it. It must have cost a fortune to make. And the quantity is extremely limited, isn’t it?”

“That’s true for the mana potion.”

At Isabelle’s words, Arad smirked as if he had expected it.

He reached into his bag once more and pulled out something else.

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