Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 17: Knowledge is Power

A large table stood at the center of the spacious dining room. Beneath it, a plush carpet provided a soft landing for footsteps, while overhead, a shimmering chandelier cast an elegant glow, accentuating the allure of the food.

Daisuke sat poised at the table. Underneath his tailored tailcoat, he wore a crisp shirt and trousers, neatly tucked into tall boots. His knife and fork hovered over the leg quarter of a Horned Rabbit, ready to indulge in the feast before him, when Reginald's voice called out from across the table.

"Where's Aprilena?"

There wasn't a pause in Daisuke's response. "She's still a bit shaken up about the whole ordeal."

"Well, that's perfectly understandable," Reginald replied in a monotone, casting a brief glance at his butler which evidently held meaning. "She's still just a child, after all. Winston, why don't you ensure she gets something to eat."

"Right away, My Lord."

Daisuke watched as the man with sleek, permed hair straightened his bend before disposing himself to the task. Then Reginald began rehashing the tale about the king's personal request, which—in hindsight, according to him—was quite ludicrous. The narrative continued as they climbed a flight of stairs leading to the man's study.

A plush couch with a footrest beckoned, accompanied by a wooden table littered with a selection of worn books. It was an intimate space, and Daisuke paid particular attention to the filing cabinets.

Stepping from the study and through a curtain, they entered Reginald's lab where a host of scientific wonders unfolded. Light radiated from the crystals set in the walls like torches. Shelves also lined the walls, each laden with an array of vials, flasks, and ancient tomes. The room was infused with the scent of different herbs, chemicals, and powders. A dark wooden desk took center stage, its surface a mosaic of notes, transmutation circles, sketches, and strange vats containing biological specimens in various stages of experimentation.

Reginald traced his finger along the glass tube contemplatively. "After being stripped of our wealth, honor, and prestige—the very pillars that defined the Percival name, my mother left soon after, my sister eloped with her lover, and my father eventually succumbed to his own despair and shame, taking his own life.

I alone remained.

I've been working alongside my father long enough to know that his work and research wasn't in vain. He just didn't have enough time to perfect it, especially under the constant pressure of the king's waning life.

But the greedy mongrels of the court didn't understand that; they readily chastised us after the king passed. Without even giving us a chance to demonstrate our accomplishments, we were looked upon as clowns and banished."

In the dungeon-like ambience of the quiet lab, Reginald's voice carried a tone of anger and derision as he spoke. His mood changed, however, once he began talking about alchemy—a power whispered to be a gift from the gods themselves. His eyes held a spark of passion as he conveyed the science he had succeeded from his father.

"Alchemy is a force that stirs the heart of both man and universe, a cosmic dance that allows us to touch the divine."

With an exuberant gesture, he indicated the various alchemical components that surrounded them. "It is the mastery of matter. It is the art of manipulating elements, of shaping the very foundation of existence. Imagine, Julian, the ability to turn base metals into gold and mithril, to wield the Philosopher's Stone and forge the elixir of youth, defying the relentless march of time."

Reginald's words painted a picture of wonder and possibility. "To be an alchemist is to stand at the crossroads of science and magic, a bridge between the mundane and the extraordinary. We humans strive not just for wealth or power, but to unravel the mysteries of creation itself."