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“This is boring.”

After things had settled down for a while, our days became a steady routine of doing the jobs that Chýtis Philip passed on to us.

Apparently, Chýtis is an honorific alchemists use when addressing one another. For practitioners of the eighth tier or higher, it is formally required to add titles like Old Master or Guru. I only learned that after coming here.

Grandpa used to say things like, “I’m fine with simply being called Gramps,” so I really wish he had taught me this sort of thing properly…

As for the work Chýtis Philip assigned me, it was mostly repairing and adjusting magic tools that people brought in, along with brewing potions. The amount I could handle was limited by my stamina, but with the goblin extermination approaching, there was no shortage of things to do.

The pay was, of course, nowhere near what Grandpa earned repairing magic tools, but it was decent enough.

It had already been five days since we reached the city and rented a dorm room through the Alchemists’ Guild. The silver coins we’d earned had surpassed eighty.

Since I hit my physical limit after just one or two hours of work a day, it felt like less than I’d expected.

So we were steadily saving up travel funds like that, but—

“This is boring…”
“So bored, nya…”

Sufi and the others were already close to their limit.

I can’t really act on my own, so I inevitably have to move together with Sufi. She helps not just with escorting me but with the work itself, but there’s hardly any difficult labor involved, so most of the time she’s just idle.

Noche and Filia also can’t wander around the city carelessly without inviting trouble, so they just laze around either in the dorm room or at Apartment 404. Just imagining it makes you bored.

“I wanna go to the Adventurers’ Guild, nya.”
“Sufi too.”
“…Wait a little longer.”

With the goblin subjugation force scheduled to depart in a few days, the Adventurers’ Guild was in a constant state of bustle. They were getting inquiries almost every day, and sometimes their staff could be seen walking around inside the Alchemists’ Guild, probably to discuss required supplies.

The adventurers gathering there were likely on edge, and the profession of adventurer is, fundamentally, meant to give work to the local roughnecks.

Those who rise in rank and travel between many cities tend to have a sense of decorum, but people who base themselves in their hometown tend to have personality issues more often than not, or so I’d heard.

If we were going to visit, it would have to be after the goblin extermination had settled down—at the very least, after they’d departed—or we might get dragged into unnecessary trouble.

That was the advice we’d received from Chýtis Philip and other alchemists I’d gotten to know.

It was something that applied to alchemists as well. Those who’d come on assignment from the East spoke to me casually, but locally hired alchemists still wouldn’t even talk to me.

In the worst cases, they’d kick my chair while I was brewing potions. Of course, that much wouldn’t make me fail, but calming down Sufi when she was about to explode was a real hassle.

Part of the reason I let it go was that it was annoying to deal with, but also because my specialty is probably magic tools—though to be honest, I can brew all potions up through the advanced rank.

Potions have grades too. Lower-grade ones can be made by anyone with a proper license. Mid-grade potions are fairly difficult, and advanced-grade ones require extremely delicate adjustments. Beyond those are the highest-grade and special-grade potions, but most of those are for treating rare diseases or for advanced surgical use.

There’s no potion that can perfectly heal a wound in a single dose. But an advanced potion made by a skilled practitioner can at least turn a “fatal wound with only seconds to live” into a “severe injury that will be fatal without prompt treatment.”

Because of that, it seems they’d requested several advanced potions as insurance, just in case. At this branch, however, the only ones who could brew advanced potions at a practical level were Guildmaster Chýtis Sigrun and Chýtis Philip .

Since it had been part of last year’s certification exam, Chýtis Philip knew that I could brew advanced potions. That was why he’d looked at me with those shining eyes.

If a branch member were to interfere with an alchemist producing advanced potions in place of the branch head Chýtis Sigrun or the lab chief Chýtis Philip, their personnel evaluation would, naturally, plummet straight down.

The receptionist from before must have been scolded pretty badly, since she now avoided contact with me and worked diligently. Even so, there are far too many challengers in this world who seem willing to devote their lives to harassing a child.

And so, it looked like the days of forcing Noche and Filia to endure things, and Sufi to exercise patience, were going to continue for a little while longer.

■■■

“…It’s done.”
“Oh, nice work… Not a trace of impurities or cloudiness despite such a short time—beautifully done.”

I dissolve the medicinal herbs in an alchemy cauldron, pass the extract through a filter, pour the resulting base liquid into a clear glass bottle, and use Forging to lightly fuse the spout shut. Repeating this process over several days, the number of advanced potions finally reached what had been requested.

When I had Chýtis Martel, the alchemist in charge of the pharmaceutical section, inspect them, he brushed back his lightly pigmented hair—a typical Eastern trait—and his cheek twitched.

“Alice, you haven’t, by any chance, lived through life a few times already, have you?”
“…A one-hundred-percent genuine seven-year-old.”

I flinched for a moment, but this one was completely unfounded.

I only regained memories of my previous life about a month ago, and in that life I knew absolutely nothing about alchemy. Alice’s ability as an alchemist is something a six-year-old girl cultivated on her own under her master’s guidance; past lives have almost nothing to do with it.

“I see…”

Judging by how he packed them into the delivery crates while staring off into the distance, the inspection seemed to have passed. He belongs to the branch, while I’m just hired labor, so I need to have everything properly checked.

Among alchemists, there are the sage type, who belong to an organization, guild facility, or school, carrying out work while conducting research, and the hermit type, who do not belong anywhere and continue their research independently.

Grandpa apparently once had many disciples and even served as a court alchemist, but after various things happened, he grew tired of socializing and power struggles and became the hermit type.

Given that I plan to travel with companions, I have no choice but to choose the latter.

“Why not just become part of the branch?”
“No, thank you.”
“No hesitation at all.”
“If I hesitated even a little, I feel like the paperwork would come out instantly, *cough*.”
“Can’t argue with that.”

It’s not funny to imagine Chýtis Philip showing up with branch affiliation forms saying, “All that’s left is your name.”

If I’m going to apply for affiliation, I’ll do it at the main headquarters in the royal capital of Alveria. I have no intention of staying long-term in the Kingdom of Roud.

Even if I applied and immediately requested a transfer and it was approved, I doubt they’d let Noche and Filia—not Sufi, who’s family—use an airship… honestly, I think it’d be impossible.

To gain enough influence at this branch to push something like that through would take at least several years. Acquiring power over time in this country without a guardian would be difficult.

“Alice, is work done?”
“Yeah. Let’s eat.”

Perhaps sensing it from our tone of voices, Sufi peeks in from the doorway. The apothecary reeks of medicinal smells, which is apparently quite harsh for Sufi’s sensitive nose, so I always have her wait at a distance.

Today there aren’t any nasty local alchemists around, so Sufi seems in a relatively good mood.

“Alright, I’ll have your payment ready for tomorrow.”
“Okay.”

I stagger toward the doorway and have Sufi carry me out of the apothecary. It’s not like I’m fine with the smell either—I just tolerate it because I’m used to it.

“So, what should we do today?”
“The reception ladies said they’d buy various things at the market.”

We chat as we walk down the corridor. Starting with Casey, I’ve kept in touch with the other Eastern receptionists. Maybe because they’re used to us beastkin, they’re oddly friendly, and they don’t seem particularly averse to Noche or Filia either.

They were a little taken aback by Noche’s jet-black hair, but I didn’t sense any disgust from their expressions or voices.

Since we started talking more, they’ve been oddly attentive, even going out of their way to help us. They buy travel necessities and food on our behalf, since we can’t shop ourselves.

Thanks to that, our travel preparations are steadily coming together. The problem is that the adventuring equipment they pick tends to be on the very cute side.

Because magic exists in this world, women sometimes become adventurers too. Whether they succeed is another matter, but their ability to do the job itself isn’t inferior to men’s.

There aren’t many women who willingly choose such a rough line of work, so the numbers are very small—but they do exist.

Aiming at that small demand, there are female-oriented equipment options, and that’s what they tend to choose for us, but honestly they’re awkward to use and the quality is questionable. Better than nothing, I suppose.

More importantly, there are no child-sized versions, so eventually we’ll need to have proper custom-made gear. No matter how much money we have, it won’t be enough.

“Since we asked for seasonings today, why don’t we make something in the other room?”
“That other room is convenient.”
“With this much food, we can make all sorts of things.”

The kitchen in Apartment 404 is fairly well equipped. Running water, of course, plus a stove, refrigerator, rice cooker, and even a microwave oven.

We had the receptionist ladies buy a variety of ingredients for us, so our repertoire has expanded quite a bit.

We mainly requested seasonings, so it was expensive, but they’ll definitely be useful on our journey.

“Sufi, what do you want to eat?”
“Meat!”
“Got it.”

There should still be some sliced pork left in the fridge, and the vegetable drawer is full of root vegetables that look like lotus roots.

They must’ve had a big harvest, since we were able to buy them cheap and in bulk.

The name’s different and the color’s purple, but the taste and texture are exactly like lotus root.

Of course, it’s something beastfolk can eat without any issues.

Thinly sliced pork and julienned lotus root—maybe a pseudo–chinjao rosu.

It would’ve been nice if the supplies included soy sauce, but I haven’t checked all the boxes yet.

If we keep eating nothing but the supplies because they taste good, they’ll run out in no time.

We need to gradually switch over to local food.