Oliver sat on the chair and stared at the room, completely baffled.
A huge white board stood in the center, covered in messy diagrams.
Some parts showed rune structures.
Others were drawings of beasts with their organs labeled, arrows pointing to glands, veins, and cores.
On the left side of the room, shelves were packed with glass jars.
Some held cloudy liquid with floating claws, eyes, or chunks of flesh inside.
One jar had something that looked like a tiny red heart, still twitching once in a while.
On the right, a row of potted plants grew behind a transparent barrier.
Some leaves had patterns like eyes.
One plant had thin teeth along the edge of its petals and snapped at a passing fly.
"…Is this the potion room for the alchemy faculty?" Oliver asked.
"No, This is my private workshop. I asked the academy for an empty room, then filled it with my things."
"Oh. We can do that?"
"Normally, no." Celia tilted her head slightly. "
But with the recent incident and my parents pushing a little, it was possible. Why? You also want a personal workshop?"
"Of course, Can you help me get one?"
"Sure, but first, give me your hand."
She stood in front of him, palm raised as if asking for a handshake.
Oliver blinked, but still reached out.
Her hand was small and cool when she took his wrist.
Inside the bag, Ethan muttered, "This feels weird."
Celia's expression did not change.
Her other hand moved slightly.
Oliver saw a faint glint of metal between her fingers.
The next moment, pain shot through his fingertip.
"Ah?"
He watched, stunned, as the tip of his right index finger separated cleanly.
It spun once in the air, trailing a thin line of blood, then landed lightly in Celia's other palm.
Ethan froze. 'Did she just cut his finger off?'
Blood welled up from the stump.
Oliver opened his mouth to shout.
Celia calmly slapped her hand over his mouth.
His cry turned into a muffled "Mmph."
Something round and hard pressed against his lips, then against his teeth.
Before he could react, she pushed it into his mouth.
A bitter taste exploded on his tongue.
It melted almost instantly, turning into a warm, sticky sweetness that slid down his throat like honey.
Heat spread from his chest, moving through his veins.
His finger stump began to itch fiercely, like ants crawling under the skin.
Oliver jerked his hand away and stared.
Before his eyes, new flesh grew out of the stump.
Skin wriggled and stretched.
In just a few breaths, his finger was whole again.
Celia held his old fingertip in her other hand and examined the new finger with open interest.
Her calm eyes shone faintly.
"So it really can regenerate a severed part at this level," she murmured. "Recovery speed is acceptable. No obvious distortion."
Oliver finally found his voice.
"You… you cut off my finger!"
Celia looked up, slightly puzzled.
"Don't mind, it's just a bit of pain, and I gave it back," she said.
"That is not the point!" Oliver grabbed his hand protectively.
"You could at least warn me first!"
Inside the bag, Ethan took a deep breath.
'Kid,' he said quietly, 'remember this. Never get too close to a woman who can cut your finger off while smiling.'
Celia ignored his protest.
She set the severed fingertip on a small metal tray, then picked up a thin needle and pricked it.
A drop of blood oozed out. She watched how it flowed, how quickly it darkened.
She lifted the tray closer, eyes focused, lips moving in a soft whisper.
"Mana density is slightly higher than average. No obvious impurities. Reaction to high-grade recovery pill is normal…"
Oliver's scalp tingled.
He slowly edged back with his chair, legs ready to spring.
Celia glanced at him and seemed to realize something.
"Ah, did that scare you?"
"Yes!" Oliver shouted. "You cut my finger off!"
Celia thought for a moment, then nodded.
"My brother said I should talk more before doing anything," she said seriously. "I forgot again."
She wiped her bloody fingers on a cloth, then, without shame, raised one finger to her lips and lightly licked the last bit of red away.
"It tastes normal," she commented calmly. "You're healthy."
Oliver's body shook.
That was enough.
Chair legs scraped loudly against the floor as he pushed himself back and bolted for the door.
"I will come back later!" he said in a rush. "Much later! Maybe next year!"
Celia watched him run, the corner of her lips lifting in a very faint smile.
"A shame," she murmured. "I still haven't asked my question."
She glanced at the regrown finger through the open door one last time and made a small note on a nearby slate.
"Next time, remember. I need to talk first" she said to herself. "Brother is right."
Outside, Oliver leaned against the corridor wall, heart pounding like a drum.
"Senior Ethan, she is crazy."
"In this world," Ethan said solemnly, "you must never provoke three kinds of people.
Old monsters. Hidden experts. And beautiful, crazy women. Especially the last one."
"You are right, Senior. I will stay far away from her," Oliver said firmly.
"Oh, I was talking about the future," Ethan replied.
"Right now it is already too late. She will definitely come to find you again."
Oliver nearly tripped.
"Senior, can you help!?"
"Cough. I am a sandal," Ethan said calmly.
"What exactly do you expect me to do? Kick her?
Besides, I truly envy you. A life surrounded by danger and romance.
Very suitable for a main character."
"That is not romance!"
Oliver wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
Only then did he look around properly.
Trees surrounded him on three sides.
Stone tiles formed a small open space in the middle, decorated with three statues of old robed figures holding books and staffs.
Birds perched on their stone heads as if they owned the place.
"…Where am I?" Oliver muttered.
Before he could sort it out, voices drifted in from the other side of the trees.
Oliver's body reacted before his brain did.
He slipped behind a thick bush and crouched down.
On the other side of the bushes, several students in neat uniforms stood in a loose circle.
Oliver peeked through the leaves.
He saw Cedric.
In front of him stood a boy with refined features, light blond hair, blue eyes and a short cape pinned with a golden emblem.
He did not speak.
The one talking was a lackey standing beside him, narrow eyes full of arrogance.
"Cedric, His Highness Prince Andrew himself extended an invitation to you. Y
ou refuse, just like that?"
Cedric bowed his head slightly.
"I am honored by His Highness Andrew's regard," Cedric said.
"However, my father instructed me clearly. I am not to take sides in any dispute between princes. I must refuse."
The lackey's face darkened.
"'Dispute between princes?'" he repeated.
"Mind your words. His Highness is the rightful core of the kingdom's future."
Cedric's jaw tightened, but he did not look away.
"I am very aware of His Highness's status.
But my father's order is absolute.
I ask His Highness to forgive my discourtesy."
The blond boy, Prince Andrew, still did not speak.
He simply watched Cedric with a small, unreadable smile.
Inside the bag, Ethan clicked his tongue.
"Classic," he said. "This should be the usual faction recruitment.
Prince wants talent, but the Loyal dog does the talking."
Oliver frowned.
"So this is about the throne?
They are already fighting this openly in the academy?"
"Where better to recruit than a place full of young talent," Ethan replied.
"If Cedric joins, he gains backing. If he refuses, he gains enemies.
Either way, someone is unhappy."
Oliver listened more carefully.
The lackey stepped closer to Cedric, mana pressing down faintly.
"Think carefully, Your family maybe famous but it's still lack influence.
Without strong support, how long can you stand in the capital?
His Highness is generous."
Cedric's fists clenched at his sides.
"My answer is the same, I do not wish to join any prince's faction.
If that offends His Highness, I will accept the consequences alone."
Oliver let out a quiet breath.
"…He has guts."
Prince Andrew finally moved.
He raised a hand slightly.
"That is enough."He gave Cedric a faint smile that did not reach his eyes.
"I will not force you. The academy years are long. I look forward to seeing how you grow. But just make sure I don't hear you join my brother."
He turned away.
The lackey bowed quickly and followed him, shooting Cedric a cold glare as he left.
Cedric stayed where he was, shoulders tense.
Only when they were completely gone did he let out a slow breath and unclench his fists.
Oliver watched from the bushes.
"So that is Prince Andrew's faction. They're well known for looking down on commoners
You really should stay away from them."
Oliver's heart almost jumped out of his mouth.
He turned his head slowly.
Celia was crouching right next to him, half hidden by the same bush, calm smile on her lips as if she had been there the whole time.
He nearly screamed.
Celia's hand covered his mouth before any sound came out.
"Shh," she whispered. "Do you want the prince's people to notice you spying on them?
Prince Andrew's faction is famous for being proud and petty.
They do not like outsiders watching their recruitment fail."
Oliver's eyes were wide.
"…When did you get here?" he hissed once she removed her hand.
"Not long ago, Around the time you said 'this is about the throne,' I think."
"You heard all that!?"
"Of course."