Chapter 5
✠
After a fulfilling morning in the kitchen, I went with Prinz to the alchemist’s laboratory.
It seemed the issue with the herb guild hadn’t been resolved yet—the alchemist hadn’t returned.
Healers were rare on the continent of Serentra.
Divine power was harder to awaken than aura or magic, meaning there were few skilled practitioners. And since the guild monopolized all human resources, private hiring was impossible.
If a noble house had its own dungeon raid team, the guild might send a healer. But for the Gillette family, who had long since abandoned swordsmanship and stopped dungeon raids, that wasn’t an option.
No matter how rich the Gillette family was, they had to personally visit the Grand Cathedral to receive treatment from a healer.
And it wasn’t practical for nobles to endure a waiting queue every time they were injured or sick.
Fortunately, there was a workable alternative to a healer’s magic: healing potions made by alchemists.
Wealthy noble families often hired both a personal doctor and an in-house alchemist.
Leonard Rodeline was one such professional. He was highly skilled.
It was clear from the story of the tenth reincarnation protagonist, who survived thanks to one of his top-tier healing potions, that his potions were nothing to scoff at.
“The ointment for wounds seems to be all used up.”
Prinz rifled through the shelves on my behalf—I didn’t even know what the ointment looked like.
It was strange for such a commonly needed item to be missing. Prinz quickly explained:
“The housekeeper often takes it. Something about moisturizing the skin… or something like that.”
“What? You didn’t tell the steward?”
“They’re all in cahoots. The steward, the housekeeper, even the doctor…”
That was… troublesome. I supposed we’d just have to wait until the alchemist returned to ask for more.
Prinz, however, looked unusually downcast, and it caught my attention.
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Oh, no. It’s just…”
“Just?”
“Well… you said you’d apply it yourself for once.”
Ah. So that was the source of the sulking. Hard to argue with that.
I looked around the lab. All the ingredients and equipment seemed to be in place.
[<System> You have purchased the “Rebirth Package (Non-Combat).”]
[<System> You have awakened Alchemy Lv.1 by selecting “Grand Alchemist’s Synthesis Circle.” You can now use: “Analyze Alchemy Materials,” “Craft Cosmetic Alchemy for Smooth, Moist Skin,” and “Craft Fragrant Natural Soap.”]
“Ugh… time to level up.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“Nothing, just… don’t mind me, Onii-sama.”
Level 1 only unlocked cosmetics and soap. To make ointments or potions, I’d need Level 2.
‘Actually, that works out.’
Ingredients were plentiful, and cosmetics and soap would come in handy anyway.
I rolled up my sleeves in preparation.
“Let’s get started.”
✠
“Ai? Lintz?”
Leonard returned to the lab after finishing his work and was taken aback.
Eyelet and Prinz were asleep, sharing a single blanket, and the lab was a mess compared to when he left.
But the desk told a different story. Dozens of glass jars filled with jelly-like substances were neatly arranged.
Leonard examined the prettily tied ribbons. Each ribbon had a label:
“Foaming Soap,” “Moisturizing Cream,” “Whitening Cream,” “Hydrating Lip Balm.”
He gasped.
“Could it be… she actually did alchemy?”
A small note accompanied the jars:
<Sorry for making these without permission. Give the soaps to the servants and the beauty potions as a gift to the Countess. She’ll love them. – Eyelet>
‘Beauty potions as gifts?! I never even thought of that!’
Leonard wasn’t the type to think strategically. He was a scholar who lived in books, obsessed only with proper potion research. He had no idea that cosmetic alchemy was becoming popular commercially.
Naturally, he had no clue how to win favor with his employer, the Countess. That kind of savvy came from Eyelet, who had seen countless cosmetics ads and had some social experience.
‘Could it be… my daughter is a genius?! Hmm, no. I can’t make the same mistakes many fathers do. Stay calm. The idea and attempt are great, but she’s just a child, so the quality may not be perfect…’
Leonard restrained his proud, doting side and decided to test the quality.
He opened a jar of moisturizing cream with a pounding heart and applied it to his skin.
“This… is incredible!”
The effect was undeniable. Even a layperson like him could see his skin regain elasticity and a natural glow.
‘My daughter really is a genius!’
He allowed himself to fully indulge in being a proud father.
The desk held not just cosmetic potions but ointments as well.
She was already making items imbued with healing properties. No doubt remained.
‘My child is destined to become a grand alchemist. I must start teaching her properly from tomorrow.’
Leonard lifted the sleeping Eyelet into his arms to place her in bed, a broad smile spreading across his face—a true fatherly smile.
✠
I had a depressing dream.
It was from when I was ten, before I was possessed. By then, I had already been completely separated from my family.
It was right after a car accident took my father and older brother. My personal cloud of gloom never seemed to leave me.
But before I could process my feelings, I had to learn to pay attention to others’ expectations first.
The family who had agreed to take me in was the “big house.”
Once they decided to raise me, they rented a three-room apartment—much larger and better than the separate studio they had lived in before.
But my uncle and aunt often argued and each took separate rooms. My cousin, two years younger, insisted on having her own space and refused to share a room with me.
So I mostly lived in the living room.
I didn’t mind. I was just grateful they didn’t send me to an orphanage.
Of course, I didn’t know then that the apartment rent came from the compensation my father and brother had left behind.
I simply wanted to do well in the household. Since my mother wasn’t around, my brother used to handle chores while my father worked. I tried to follow his example and gradually took on tasks like washing dishes, laundry, and cleaning.
My aunt seemed pleased. I had always been sensitive to praise from adult women, which motivated me further. The chores naturally became my responsibility.
One weekend, I woke around noon to find the house empty. I waited, thinking the family would return and we’d eat together.
But they didn’t return until long after sunset.
The first to appear was my cousin, wearing a headband with a swinging star spring.
When I greeted them and asked about dinner, the big house family looked displeased and said they weren’t planning to eat, retreating to their rooms.
It made sense; the smell of grilled pork lingered on them—it was clear they had eaten out.
Empty weekends became routine. Eventually, I stopped waiting and ate by myself. After all, I wasn’t truly family.
One question lingered: with their modest means, how could they afford to eat out so often?
Later, I learned that all the money they spent came from my father and brother’s accident insurance and settlement.
When the truth came out in my second year of high school, the big house accused me of ingratitude for “counting money” despite raising me. I realized there was no point arguing and decided to endure until adulthood.
They had it easy with me—I never rebelled. I never even experienced adolescence properly. Spoiling oneself required someone willing to indulge you, which I didn’t have.
I thought I was doing okay. But in truth, I often tossed and turned at night, haunted by nightmares.
Sometimes, my cousin would come to the living room yelling, “Are you insane?!” and throw a pillow at me. But that wasn’t something I could consciously control.
Not even now.
“Mom… Dad… please don’t leave me alone…”
“Ai?”
“Brother… don’t go… I won’t steal your snacks anymore… I’ll even share my chocolate milk… Bro… Brooo…”
“…”
Then my hand was covered by warmth. It was the first time it happened, and I was vaguely puzzled even in my half-asleep state.
A soothing, gentle voice spoke like a lullaby:
“Shh, Ai. You must have had a nightmare. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.”
“Dad…?”
“Yes, it’s Daddy.”
“Really… our Dad…? That’s strange… our Dad…”
The rest of my words stuck in my throat.
Luckily, ‘Daddy’ continued:
“I’m really your Dad. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep again.”
“A promise… a promise.”
“Yes, a promise.”
The warmth from his hand spread through my chest.
For the first time, I felt truly safe and drifted back to sleep.
