Damn Academy - Chapter 100

[Episode 100] Circulatory System (2)

Damian first harbored suspicion upon hearing that explanation.

The essence of alchemy, the long manufacturing period, the exclusive recipe leading to a limited supply—these were the banalities of the prototypical quack alchemist.

In the basics of alchemy, one frequently hears of three mythical potions: the Elixir of Youth, Love Potion, and the concoction that turns one into a sorcerer. Although many alchemists had dedicated their lives to researching these, none have ever been successfully created, nor was it likely they would ever come into existence. They were akin to an alchemist’s utopia; ideals to be pursued but forever out of reach.

Textbooks on introductory alchemy repeatedly stressed that such potions did not exist. The idea that a potion could control a soul was an exaggeration.

A student from the Alchemy Department, perhaps sharing Damian’s sentiment, raised a hand and addressed Professor Rakam.

“It may be rude to suggest, Professor, but it seems you are peddling snake oil to us.”

Observing the avaricious glint in the students’ eyes, Professor Rakam let out a boisterous laugh.

“A good observation. Ah, just look at those eyes. That’s why alchemical charlatans manage to swindle noblewomen. Isn’t it? If you could control a human soul with just one potion, why on earth would I give such a powerful thing to you? I’d use it myself.”
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Most students from the Alchemy Department erupted in laughter.

Professor Rakam was adept at manipulating the students’ emotions.

“There are potions to delay aging, but none to reverse it; there are potions to aid in manipulating magical power, but none that grant magical abilities. This is the same. Drinking this potion won’t make someone fall in love with you. It will merely enrich an existing affection, deepening emotions, sort of paving a shortcut to the heart.”

Some murmured in disappointment.

“But, this is the closest thing to the legendary ‘love potion’ from myth, that’s certain.”

Rakam added that the potion’s effects varied significantly from person to person and typically lasted a couple of months.

To some, it may have seemed a tempting reward, but for Damian, it held little allure.

Even if you could procure love through shortcuts, maintaining it ultimately depended on the individual. If one’s qualifications weren’t enough, no amount of effort would prevent abandonment. Damian had already learned this lesson.

Of course, such an item of value could be profitably sold or traded. If Damian obtained the potion, he intended to sell it at a high price.

Meanwhile, Rakam signaled the assistants with a gesture that seemed to request something.

“Enough chit-chat; it’s time for the group draw.”

The assistants brought a magical box and placed it front of the lectern.

The classroom was enveloped in a mixture of anticipation and excitement.
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“As you all know, the Alchemy Department students will serve as team leaders for this class. Students from other departments will be given important roles eventually, so store any complaints. Students not from the Alchemy Department will draw lots from this box to decide who their leader will be.”

During the preparation period, all names and groups were to be displayed publicly, then made private the day before practice commenced.

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The recruitment and release of group members were at the discretion of the Alchemy Department’s group leaders.

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As assistants called names in groups of twenty, students stepped forward and drew slips of paper from the box. Trisha, Cecil, Sion, Lilith, and others Damian had acquainted with completed their draws, and finally, it was his turn.

Damian reached into the box and pulled out a slip.

He looked at the name written there, familiar somehow, but he couldn’t recall exactly who it was.

[Iris Semela]

After recording all group affiliations, Rakam reiterated the objective of the class.

“Your goal is to respect and integrate into the circulatory system. You may change group members if you wish, but sticking with your initial draw incurs fewer penalties to your score. Find your optimal strategy, and if you have questions, consult the assistants. That’s all.”

Securing the top rank or the highest marks was easier if you replaced your group members with more reputable ones. The penalty wasn’t severe enough to affect your rankings critically. On the other hand, for those in the middle, even small points could mean significant differences, so avoiding penalties was advantageous.

With that, the lesson was adjourned.

And so, the time had come for fervent negotiations and reorganizing of the groups.

As the professor left, the classroom soon became as noisy as a marketplace.

People shouted names, seeking out group members and leaders; there was a frenzy of movement within the halls.

Then a gentle female voice brushed Damian’s ear.

“Who drew Iris…?”

***

“Damian, is it? I’ve heard a few talking about you. Seeing you in person, I’m truly delighted.”

With her hair tinged in orange hues, Iris looked every bit the sole daughter of a distinguished family—gentle, considerate, and so sympathetic she seemed willing to listen to a stranger’s woes all night.

“You’ve heard stories about me?”

“Yes, but I don’t know the details—just overheard them. They said you were at the Weisel with Professor Silveryn.”

Another young man from their group interjected.

“Do you remember me?”

His hair was so sleek it looked as though it had been doused in oil; his rigid parting almost seemed obsessive.

Iris laughed awkwardly.

“Ah… haha. What was your name? I don’t think I’ve been introduced yet…”

“Ahh, right? I’m Lysander, from the Magic Department.”

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“Pleasure to meet you.”

Our gaze shifted to the last member of our group.

The burly young man, formidable in stature and frame, addressed me without introducing himself.

“You’re the grand wizard’s disciple, huh?”

“…”

We all held our silence until he finally introduced himself.

“Ahh, I am the eldest son from the Orlo ducal house, Polson. Combat Department. And my father is the empire’s Minister of the Treasury, so I assume you’ve heard about us.”

The mention of the Royal Treasury Minister caused Iris’s face to stiffen momentarily.

Polson turned to her.

“I remember you receiving an invite from the prince too. You’re the top student in the Alchemy Department. We met at the matriculation reception, didn’t we?”

Iris recalled for a moment.

“Was that so? Ah… you mean with Prince Franz and…”

“I was the one talking about the Crow Count next to the prince. Don’t remember?”

“Ah, yes! I remember now. Oh my, that was you!”

Iris’s voice lifted with apparent joy.

They exchanged a few more words about their meeting during the reception.

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As Polson mentioned the prince, Iris’s tone became slightly enthusiastic.

The keywords ‘matriculation reception’ and ‘prince’ seemed to have formed a bond between them instantly.

Lysander, with his slick hair, couldn’t help but chime in.

“I suppose you don’t remember, but I was there too… Nice to meet you.”

A blush then swept over Iris’s face.

“Wow, our group turned out so well. Three of us went to that reception? And there’s also the… disciple of Professor Silveryn.”

Lysander added, almost ingratiatingly,
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“The key is that our leader is the top student of the Alchemy Department.”

Top student. The sensation felt off as soon as that Polson fellow had started talking about the reception.

Iris, attempting modesty, waved her hands dismissively.
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“Oh, no. I’m the top now, but I still have so much to work on.”

She seemed to regard me favorably, yet I couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of discomfort.

It appeared I was the only one who felt it, as all three exuded a subtle confidence upon discussing the reception.

Supposedly the top of the Alchemy Department, did she not crave the horn of that familiar? To aim for it, one would need a team of formidable members.

As our introductions continued, snippets of conversation from other groups in the classroom reached us.

“Sorry, we need a spirit conjurer.”

“We’ve had a planned group from before; you’ll have to leave.”

“We don’t need two from the Artifice Department.”

Others callously restructured their teams.

Right then, I instinctively knew.

‘I might not be able to stay with these people until the end.’

It was too early to make any decisions, but I prepared myself mentally.

As I contemplated, Polson tapped my shoulder and spoke up.
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“Hey, help me arrange a private meeting with Professor Silveryn later.”

“…”
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I stared blankly at Polson’s face. Why was he issuing commands as though our hierarchical relationship was pre-established? Then, Polson added,

“Why that face? Helping the Orlo family could be beneficial for you. Think about it.”

Was it the recent battles that had cultivated my propensity for violence, or was he just the type who needed to be put in his place? Regardless, I couldn’t just start a fight; I had to mask my anger.

Silveryn had advised me once that trouble often arose early in the term because of hierarchical presumptions. There’s no use in being emotionally reactive to such matters.

Soon after, Iris interjected with a forced smile.

“Let’s hold off on personal matters for now. We have to prepare for the circulatory system practicum.”

***

Professor Rakam sat in his office, sipping tea in the sunlight. Escaping the ashen landscapes of the north had enlivened him.

A teaching assistant knocked and entered.

“Here is the newly revised group list.”

“Ah, let’s have it.”

He skimmed the list and smiled contentedly.

“Things are proceeding well.”

It seemed quicker to find the groups that hadn’t shuffled members than those who had.

Students who were left unassigned to any group were beginning to emerge.

This circulatory system class was designed not only to foster cooperation and adaptability but also served another purpose.

And that was the taming of freshmen.

He chuckled at the thought of their shocked faces upon receiving their reversed grade reports.

The students who thought highly of themselves were bound to hit rock bottom in an unexpected way during this session.

Preparation would surely lead to a lower mark, unbeknownst to them.

Past grade statistics showed a consistent pattern—the highest marks were always achieved by those initially expelled from their group and thrown helplessly into the circulatory system.