Part of Dorian wanted to burst into laughter.
Alchemy?
The word rang in his mind like a bad joke, dry, outdated, and almost insulting. For a brief moment, the corners of his lips twitched as though he were about to let loose another round of mocking laughter.
Alchemy was what failed scholars turned to when they couldn't grasp real magic. Pills, potions, herbal mixtures; an auxiliary discipline at best. Useful for merchants and healers, perhaps, but hardly something worthy of the risks she was implying.
And yet he didn't laugh because Liora wasn't smiling. Her expression was blank. Calm. Completely serious. There was no trace of humor in her emerald eyes, no attempt to provoke or tease him.
She believed what she was saying, the thought alone made Dorian straighten slightly in his chair.
He studied her more carefully now, the woman who had performed strange magic in front of him, magic that ignored conventional rules.
Then there was her sudden appearance. Overnight, she had taken ownership of one of the most influential establishments in the Red District without resistance. No rumors of conflict. No power struggles. No noble interference.
And now she sat before him, entirely unbothered by his status.
A bastard, yes but still a son of House Viremont, Nicholai had made that much clear to the kingdom. Most people treated him with thinly veiled contempt or exaggerated caution.
Liora did neither
It would be idiotic, Dorian thought, to assume the alchemy she's talking about is the same one I know of .
He exhaled slowly.
"You're not talking about the alchemy I know of, are you?" he said at last. "Not the kind involving pills, herbs, and potions."
For the first time since she had proposed it, Liora smiled. It was the smile of someone who had been waiting for him to catch up.
"You're correct," she said. "What I speak of is true alchemy."
Dorian frowned slightly, and she continued, voice steady. "What the world now calls alchemy is merely fragmented knowledge. Primitive science.
Herbalism refined over time. It is what remains after the real discipline was stripped bare."
She lifted her teacup and took a slow sip.
"The first alchemist," she went on, "was a man named Aurelius. He practiced both what you now recognize as alchemy and true alchemy."
The name struck something deep within him.
Aurelius.
Dorian made a mental note to research the name later.
Before the thought could fully settle
"Don't bother," Liora said.
His gaze snapped back to her. "What?"
"There are no records of Aurelius," she replied calmly. "None that still exist here that is, the only records you'll find are probably with the dragons"
Dorian's heart skipped.
How did she—
Before he could ask, she met his eyes directly.
"I can read your mind."
Shock hit him first sharp and immediate.
Then, beneath it all, a dangerous curiosity unfurled.
"…You're joking," he said, though the words felt hollow even to him.
"I'm not."
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
"That's—" He stopped himself, squeezing his brows together. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, forcing his thoughts into order. "If you can read my mind, then you should already know what I'm about to say."
Liora chuckled softly. "Just because I can doesn't mean I always do. I value privacy, mine and others, unlike you."
Dorian snorted. "That's reassuring. And what do you mean, unlike me?"
She smiled faintly, "That's a topic for another day"
Dorian's expression hardened.
"Well," he said, standing abruptly, "this conversation ends here."
She didn't interrupt him.
"I'm not becoming an alchemist," he continued. "I'm satisfied with my life as it is."
He gestured vaguely. "I have everything I need; booze, women, comfort, money. The finest clothes in the kingdom. I don't need… this."
He turned toward the door.
"You can find someone else," he said over his shoulder. "Forget what happened between us. Focus on running your brothel."
As Dorian reached for the door,
"Catch." Liora called out to him
Something small flew toward him and Dorian turned instinctively and caught it.
A ring. It was dull, heavy and made of lead.
He raised a curious brow, examining it.
"What's this?"
Liora stood now, her gaze fixed on him sharp, assessing.
"You know your life could mean more than this," she said quietly. "True alchemy comes with knowledge no record in this world contains and power that transcends even the greatest magic.
So worrying about mana and magic is pointless as you don't need mana to be an alchemist"
She stepped closer.
"You're a brilliant boy, Dorian Viremont. You always were."
His grip tightened around the ring.
"And men like you," she continued, "share one fatal weakness."
"Curiosity," she said softly. "The more unknown the knowledge, the stronger the pull.
She met his eyes. "Only put the ring on if you agree to my offer. Once you do, it's a done deal."
Dorian said nothing.
He turned and walked out, the ring clenched in his palm.
Behind him, Liora watched him leave.
A slow, confident smile curved her lips.
"…It's only a matter of time."
The rest of the day passed strangely.
Dorian wandered the halls of the Viremont mansion, his footsteps echoing faintly as he moved without direction. Servants paused when they saw him not out of fear, but surprise.
This wasn't his routine.He wasn't drinking, sleeping or chasing pleasure. Instead, he headed for the library.
He pulled book after book from the shelves, anything that even mentioned alchemy. Academic treatises, old research notes, forgotten essays by obscure scholars.
He found nothing, no mention of the name Aurelius.
No mention of true alchemy, nothing beyond what he already knew.
The servants whispered among themselves, glancing at him as he passed with stacks of books in his arms.
Milton, stood near the archive entrance, watched quietly. A faint smile touched the old butler's lips.
It's been a long time, he thought. Since he looked like this.
And soon night fell and Dorian sat alone in his room defeated, books scattered across the floor, he was clearly frustrated.
"…Nothing," he muttered. "Absolutely nothing."
He leaned back, rubbing his eyes.
Why am I even doing this?
True alchemy or not it didn't matter.
He had no magic. He exhaled heavily, recalling Liora's words.
You don't need magic.
His gaze drifted to the lead ring resting on the table.
"I'm happy with my life," he told himself quietly. "This is fine."
He tossed the ring onto the table and collapsed onto his bed.
"I'll think more clearly in the morning."
The room fell silent, minutes passed and then Dorian shot upright.
"Agh, fuck it!"
He jumped out of bed, strode to the table, and slipped the ring onto his middle finger.
The metal was cold and heavy.