Chapter 61
Even the exam had been subject to subtle external pressure rather than outright interference. That meant a mediocre result could easily spark controversy.
Besides, Prim was in no position to worry about others. If she failed to secure this regression, all the ease she currently enjoyed would become nothing more than a meaningless joke.
Until now, she had focused on survival and laying the groundwork for the future, offering fragrances to Retemor, Tamdrion, Yulberon, and even Keresen. Barin had understood her reasons as well.
But now, Prim resolved that every single ingredient within her reach would be used with absolute care—nothing wasted.
“Do all perfumers distinguish scents at this level?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Prim nodded at Vianna’s question.
That meant, even among them, she would have to go one step further to stand out.
Vianna thought, I doubt that…, but since Prim clearly knew the most about perfumery among the three, she changed the subject.
The winter river wind was quite cold.
“You’re going back now, right? Are you going to play chess again?”
A knight was expected to possess many virtues.
They had to be fluent in multiple languages, well-versed in etiquette, knowledgeable about basic perfumery and scents, and skilled in poetry, music, and even chess.
Rosien picked up their belongings and lifted Prim effortlessly as he said,
“Last place folds the towels.”
“There are way too many towels! The loser should carry the ether solvent!”
Rosien stared at Vianna in disbelief.
“That’s just making someone else do your work.”
Vianna hadn’t come here just to play—she’d been practicing solvent extraction methods she learned from Prim.
“Then what about the towels? Why are there so many? It’s because you shower too much morning and night!”
“What am I supposed to do? I sweat after training! I can’t just bathe once a day!”
Rosien flapped his shirt as he spoke. A faint scent of roses mixed with soap drifted from him. Vianna frowned.
“The apprentice knights at Yulberon manage just fine being all grubby.”
In truth, they were relatively clean compared to most apprentice boys—and recently, they’d become even cleaner thanks to Rosien’s influence.
But to Vianna, who had only ever seen Prim, Rosien, and children from the orphanage behaving similarly, they seemed practically like wild animals.
Rosien felt the same way.
“Ugh! I seriously can’t stand that.”
Vianna burst into laughter, then suddenly grew serious.
“So what happens if you lose at chess?”
“I said—fold the towels.”
Vianna muttered in slight frustration,
“Then I’ll start showering morning and night too.”
She was determined to increase the number of towels to fold.
“Do whatever you want.”
Rosien shrugged with a smirk. Vianna stomped her foot in disbelief, while Prim smiled softly.
* * *
The day of the first written exam.
Prim adjusted the coat given to her by Priest Marseria and the scarf Rosien had wrapped around her.
Her body felt bulky, but strangely, she felt good. Thinking of Vianna dragging the worried pair along made her smile again.
The exam was dense.
There were short-answer questions and descriptive ones.
Prim’s hand moved quickly across the page. She had worked in the field until just before her regression. At most, she had only been away for half a year—nothing here was difficult.
‘Solvent extraction… I just did that with Vianna.’
She carefully wrote out the process: using ether solvent to create a concrete, dissolving it in alcohol to separate the wax, and finally evaporating the alcohol to leave only the fragrance.
‘Characteristics of bergamot extraction.’
Gather the peels in high-quality linen, hang them from the ceiling, and collect the juice in a glazed container below. As the bergamot matures inside, its unique flavor develops.
Depending on the type of container and how high or low the peel pouch is hung, the scent subtly changes—one of its joys.
‘Types of magical beasts that produce agarwood resin.’
Resin formed from wounds in agarwood trees becomes more special when caused by magical beasts. It was speculated that the darkness carried by the beasts caused this effect.
Thus, depending on the beast, the resin’s scent changed slightly. Prim listed the names, traits, and resulting scent variations.
‘Enfleurage.’
Prim lightly tapped her cheek with her pen.
With solvent extraction becoming widespread, this method—placing flower petals onto fat to extract scent—had nearly vanished.
It required too much labor and time, making the perfume extremely expensive.
Still, Prim occasionally used it. The long process captured even the most delicate floral notes.
—Prepare two panels coated evenly with purified animal fat. Place flower petals carefully so they are not damaged. Press the panels together…
Most questions were basic. There was a lot to write, and her hand grew tired, but none of it was difficult.
‘Does this test even distinguish skill levels?’
Prim tilted her head.
Surely anyone serious about perfumery would know these things.
She vaguely recalled her previous life’s exam being similar—though she had never considered it meaningful then.
‘Regional water characteristics.’
Prim smiled.
The examiner clearly understood fragrance-making.
Castellanza’s water was hardened by silica and soda ash from nearby Vitrelia’s glassmaking, causing citrus scents to evaporate quickly.
Northern water was soft with few minerals. Southern water, influenced by the sea, contained salt and held scents well, allowing citrus notes to last longer.
In the eastern mountainous region with frequent lightning, woody notes were enhanced, green notes amplified, and musk lasted longer—but alcohol could degrade, and discoloration might occur.
“Hmm.”
After finishing, she looked up. Others were still writing.
A proctor passing by gave her a strange glance, then quickly looked away.
Sitting quietly, Prim stifled a yawn. She longed for hot chocolate—rich, warm, with a hint of mint and cinnamon, topped with plenty of cream.
Her feet were cold, but no one could enter until the exam ended. Unable to walk, she had no choice but to sit still.
The proctor slowly circled the room, glancing at the small girl sitting by the window.
Wrapped in oversized coats and layers of scarves, she looked like a bundled snowball. Yet her bare feet were exposed, trembling in the cold.
Clicking his tongue.
She was said to be a candidate recommended by Barin’s temple.
Some in the empire no longer even knew of Barin, but the exam organizers did—every year, one applicant appeared.
Until now, they had all been sponsored by the Aurum Vena merchant group—likely having bought recommendation letters from Barin’s last remaining parish.
But this time, they brought a ten-year-old child. An orphan from that temple.
There had been controversy over letting her take the exam, and seeing her in person made the proctor uneasy.
A child not yet fully grown, wrapped in excessive clothing—as if someone, in a cruel and misguided way, cherished her like a doll.
