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We walked down the main street with strange gazes directed at us. The scene hasn’t changed much since I came to get my license about a year ago.

Toilets in this world are somewhat decent, but the gutters along the roadside are still covered in horse dung. After carriages passed, someone came up to clean up the mess left behind with wooden shovels.

It was a man with a weary face, dressed slightly better than us now. Though it was still practically rags, not exactly all that much better than us.

Sanitation wasn’t much better back in the village either, so I hadn’t noticed anything last year. But this time, I’m re-entering the city with memories of my past life. The scenery before my eyes, the air I breathe—it all feels completely different.

What I’m trying to say is…

“It stinks…”
“…Really?”

A beastkin’s keen sense of smell picks up every trace of sweat and discarded odors lingering on the streets. For bodies accustomed to the luxurious baths of modern Japan, this environment was brutal.

Sufi tilted her head in puzzlement, sniffing the air. She probably felt nothing because she was used to it.

As for me, having memories from my past life backfired. The facility where I was sheltered was a perfectly sealed space, but that meant sanitary was absolute. Even the outer town I was occasionally allowed to visit was equally pristine.

In short, I alone had lost my tolerance for unclean conditions.

This is another world and all—I sincerely wish they’d maintain the town’s cleanliness with something a bit more… fantasy-ish.

“Look, it’s coming into view. Hang in there.”
“Yeah…”

My sense of smell should be far inferior to Sufi’s, yet I felt groggy in an instant. Even at the gate, the unpleasant smell of sweat and grime was strong, but it must have been dispersed by the wind since it was an open area.

The walled city, combined with the filth-filled gutters, created an atmosphere that was spectacularly awful.

“Alice, we’re here.”

Sufi stopped. When I managed to lift my head, a Western-style mansion with a red roof stood before us. In the center of its familiar-looking facade, a sign near the door displayed a picture of a flask with wings.

Men clad in mouse-gray coats, wearing copper-colored badges with the same design as the sign on their chests, came and went. Passing by them, I caught a faint scent of chemicals and metal.

“Get us… in.”
“Yes, yes.”

The door opened, and the attached bell chimed cheerfully.

The reception floor was spacious. Uniformed receptionists lined the front. To the right were offices and interview rooms; to the left, a materials purchasing counter. Upstairs were the master room, conference rooms, and a library… I remember it all perfectly.

But perhaps the timing was bad—there wasn’t a single familiar face among the receptionists. Seeing us approaching, clearly vagrant children, they wore blatantly puzzled expressions.

“Um, hello?”
“…Yes? How may I help you?”

Sufi stepped up to a receptionist whose line had just cleared and spoke up. Her lack of fear in situations like this was a strength.

“We’d like to… haah, see Guildmaster Sigrun…”

The receptionist was a young woman. Her expression vanished, and a short sigh escaped her.

“The Guildmaster is the only High Alchemist in this country. He’s extremely busy. He doesn’t have time to meet with anyone without a letter of introduction or an appointment. …Do you understand?”

The sound of growing suspicion and dissatisfaction grew louder; I could tell she was no longer giving us the time of the day.

The Alchemist Guild recognizes eleven ranks based on established ability and achievements.

From the lowest: 0th Tier Neophyte, 1st Tier Gerator, 2nd Tier Theorica, 3rd Tier Practica, 4th Tier Philosopha.

These ranks comprise the largest membership base. ‘Neophyte’ is a trainee rank; from Gerator onward, members receive a formal license and a badge. As ranks advance, the number of feathers on the badge increases, and the material changes from copper to silver, then from silver to gold.

Next are the 5th Tier Adeptus Minor, 6th Tier Adeptus Major, 7th Tier Adeptus Ex, 8th Tier Magus, and 9th Tier Magus Magna. This is the top tier, commonly referred to as the rank of High Alchemist.

Above that lies the 10th tier, Ars Magna—the highest rank bestowed upon practitioners who have achieved unprecedented, monumental research and accomplishments. They are respectfully called ‘Grand Alchemists,’ and only three active practitioners held this title.

Incidentally, unlike usual, those titles are not a paraphrased translation in my head—that’s their actual, literal title. It sounds like some occult society, and personally, it rings a bell to a language I’ve heard before, but the person who decided the names is long gone, so the details are unknown.

Also incidentally, some of the ranks overlap with the Mages’ Guild. It seems the founders of the three guilds, including the Adventurers’ Guild, and the first king of the Holy Kingdom once traveled together amicably across the ravaged continent after the collapse of the Zergia Empire.

The Adventurers’ Guild is clearly Roman alphabetic, too… Could it be… No way.

Anyway, moving on.

Only senior alchemists—meaning practitioners at the 5th tier, Adeptus Minor or higher—can be entrusted with branch master positions. Sigrun is a 7th tier Adeptus Ex—in short, a super high-ranking big shot.

He holds influence even under the church’s sway and carries weight with the nobles—not someone you can just ask to meet.

“I’m a… full member of the guild too… cough.”

Just in case, I showed her the license I got last year. The front of the copper badge had a flask with three wings engraved on it.

The woman at the counter saw it and her expression twisted violently.

“I don’t know where you stole this from, but—”
“My name and membership number are engraved on the back.”
“You didn’t carve it out and engrave your name here, did you!? This is a Practica… an Intermediate Alchemist badge! How dare you!”

The receptionist slammed her hand on the counter and stood up. I felt eyes turning toward us.

It just looks like plain copper, but it has anti-counterfeiting measures that would be obvious if checked. But maybe because my first impression was so bad, she wouldn’t listen to my explanation.

Last year, thanks to Grandfather’s recommendation, I got certified as a Neophyte and immediately took the exams for three levels up to Practica. I passed, exhausted from the non-stop written and practical tests, and worked hard to earn that badge.

It was done under the supervision of several alchemists, including the Guildmaster, and there was no cheating.

“What’s the matter?”
“Listen! This half-beast child seems to have stolen someone’s badge!”

While worrying about what to do, afraid they might call the guards, a man with narrow eyes emerged from behind the reception desk.

Ah, thank goodness, someone I know.

“…That badge belongs to the child.”
“Huh!?”
“I’ll take over… It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I’m sorry about Old Master Haumass. My deepest condolences.”
“Mr. Philip.”

He was Philip, an intermediate alchemist of the Fourth Order, ‘Philosopha’, and the second most powerful figure in this branch after the branch chief.

“When I heard the Old Master’s inheritance was sold off in the neighboring town, I rushed to find you two, but…”
“Things… happened. Right, Sufi?”
“It was tough!”

After taking back the badge he returned, I clenched it tightly in my hand. I hadn’t thought much of it back then, but it was proof I’d earned it with my own strength, back when I had nothing.

After talking a little, Philip frowned, troubled, though I didn’t know how much he knew about the situation.

“Well… I don’t know if this will comfort you, but the people who brought in the materials were arrested.”
“The thieves got caught!?”

Sufi’s eyes sparkled, but not because they stole Grandpa’s materials.

“A lot of Grandpa’s stuff is flagged if they’re sold without the license.”
“Correct. Ignorance always breeds tragedy… though in this case, it’s just comedy.”

Grandpa had been playing doctor and pharmacist. Many of the substances he handled, or their raw materials, were dangerous if used improperly. Considering the risks, most countries have laws stipulating that only church priests, pharmacists, or alchemists may handle certain drugs or materials.

In Japan, it’d be like ordinary people trying to sell anesthetics or explosives at a pharmacy—they’d get arrested, of course.

“You knew, Alice?”
“I knew carrying them would bring trouble.”

I hadn’t read that far ahead, but looking back, those materials definitely were a trouble magnet.

If it ended up hurting those people, then fine by me.

“…Speaking of which, do you know anything about a Rainyblue flower soaked in a low-grade, shoddy potion?”

Philip, who’d been listening to our exchange, asked probingly. That flower was stolen from us, so I don’t see why I’d hide it.

“Sufi found it in the next town over, but it got stolen.”
“…In that case, it’s karma.”
“What happened?”

It seemed something had happened involving that, as his tone turned less than calm.

“You see, it was brought to the apothecary in the neighboring town, and it caused quite a stir. Apparently some slum kids brought it in. It had been properly preserved, and the Alchemist Guild bought it, but…”

The Alchemist Guild apparently haggled it down to a single gold coin, but even that was too much money for the slum kids.

“They also found a lot of properly dried aserica herbs, apparently. There was a pretty fierce fight over them among the slum kids. In the end, someone even used poison, causing mass poisoning and forcing the vigilante group to step in.”

Another terribly tragic incident. They probably got greedy once they learned the stolen liquid-preserved leaves and powder could be sold for gold.

They robbed it from us either way. I feel no sympathy.

“Still… coming to this Alchemist Guild first was the right call. Truly the last beloved disciple of the old master.”
“Sir Philip, is this child really an alchemist?”

The receptionist woman listening nearby raised her voice, glaring at us with obvious skepticism. I hadn’t been able to convince her alone. I’d counted on having at least one acquaintance here, but I’d completely miscalculated.

“Yes, absolutely. The old master brought her here last year, and I supervised her during the exams.”
“…Is that true?”
“It is indeed. This girl is the last direct disciple of Old Master Wasel Haumass, the proud Magnus Magna of the Kingdom of Roud, and she is the youngest ever to receive the official license of Gerator in history—Miss Alice.”

His voice was deliberately loud, as if to make sure everyone here knew who I was. I didn’t think Mr. Philip was a bad person, but his intentions were unclear, making me wary.

Considering my own worth, I wanted to believe he wouldn’t treat me carelessly, but I still couldn’t bring myself to trust him completely.

Whether he knew my thoughts or not, Philip gave a wry smile and shifted his gaze from the receptionist to me.

“…The girls from the East who aren’t prejudiced against beastkin used to call her the Fluffy Alchemist.”

…What a stupid epithet.