Self-Introduction

When the host of the International Alchemy Convention formally announced that Albert Anderson had received the Pioneering Contribution Gold Medal, the venue suddenly fell into a deathly silence. There was no applause, no cheering—only scrutinizing, doubtful gazes. As the alchemists in the hall turned their heads, all eyes converged on Albert.

Being watched by so many people with such scrutiny and suspicion felt truly awful. The alchemists present had even selectively forgotten that staring at someone for so long was extremely rude. Yet under the pressure of more than a hundred pairs of eyes, Albert's expression barely changed. He had seen grand occasions before; the hostile looks from that crowd were not enough to make him back down.

Isabelle, who was especially sensitive to other people's gazes, frowned. She quietly reached out and took Albert's hand, trying to lend him courage, encouragement, and support through her palm. But Albert was clearly not someone lacking in courage—otherwise, he would never have been sorted into Gryffindor.

Of course, he knew many people were secretly delighted by this, hoping to see him humiliated and disgraced, perhaps even forced by the pressure to give up the Pioneering Contribution Gold Medal and slink away from the International Alchemy Convention as they wished, becoming the subject of everyone's after-dinner gossip. But those people were destined to be disappointed.

The awkward atmosphere in the hall had no effect on Albert whatsoever. He rose from his seat and slowly walked onto the stage beneath the hostile stares of countless wizards.

The host looked at Albert, evidently not expecting things to turn out this way. Once Albert stepped onstage, he hurriedly handed him the microphone.

"The view from here is quite nice. I can see quite a few old friends below." Albert took the microphone and casually said, as