Veylin looked at the wineglass held to his lips.
The crimson liquid shimmered in the moonlight, its glow suggestive.
A blush colored Caroline's cheeks, whether from the wine or something else. Her green eyes, usually sharp as blades, now glistened, clearly reflecting his image.
Memories of his previous life surfaced.
Ever since his first year of graduate school, the female students hoping to squeeze onto his SCI papers as fourth or fifth authors had often used similar tactics.
Dinner invitations, bubble tea, admiring looks accompanied by "You're amazing!" All that groundwork eventually led to the request: "Won't you let me join this project?"
It wasn't just similar. It was exactly the same.
After a moment's thought, Veylin understood. The Golden Sail Merchant Guild had just won a costly victory, so cash flow was bound to be tight.
And the Origin Society was a bottomless pit.
The conclusion was obvious-she wanted to cut off funding.
To him, Caroline's combination of tactics was rather amateurish, impatient and immature. He couldn't even muster the interest to expose her.
"The antidote was a success."
Veylin didn't touch the wine. He eased half a step backward, putting some distance between them.
"The antidote was a success, which proves that our partnership has a solid foundation." His voice remained as calm as ever. "So I believe this is the perfect time to discuss the Origin Society's first round of research funding."
Caroline's hand froze in midair, still holding the glass.
She had imagined countless responses-a suggestive smile, some knowing banter, even an awkward but sincere touch.
The one thing she hadn't expected was a cold bill presented amid the tipsy atmosphere she had carefully created, meant for two victors alone.
Most of her intoxication faded, leaving only the cool evening breeze against her skin.
She slowly lowered the glass. Rather than retreating, she stepped closer, her skirt nearly brushing Veylin's trouser leg, her fragrance becoming almost aggressive.
She lowered her voice, an unwittingly coy note slipping into it.
"Can't we talk about something else tonight? Anything at all."
"Funding is the most important 'anything.'"
Veylin answered without the slightest hesitation.
"Developing the antidote for Shipworms these past few days has given me plenty of new ideas. If we want to counter potential threats in the future, we need to get the Origin Society running as soon as possible. Also... I've drawn up a preliminary list of materials. Quite a few are rare, so I'll need you to find a way to obtain them."
Funding?
Materials??
Caroline's voice suddenly rose, the first stirrings of a young woman's affection shaken and weakened by the sound.
"Weilin Klein!"
Her chest heaved with anger, making the breathtaking curves outlined by her dark green gown tremble.
"Are Gold Suns and those materials the only things you can see?"
"I'm standing right here-Caroline Channing, a whole person! Can't you see me?!"
Humiliation and anger tangled together. She wanted to yank off her high heels and throw them at that unruffled face.
Watching her furious expression, Veylin sneered inwardly.
Just as I thought. When the soft approach fails, she turns to force.
His suspicions were confirmed.
He sighed softly. "Oh... Caroline, why don't you understand? A partnership without material support is a heap of sand. It doesn't even need wind to scatter it; a couple of steps will do."
"We're partners. If we don't talk money, what should we talk about? Feelings?"
His voice was calm, but to Caroline, it struck like a sledgehammer.
What could she say?
Hadn't this always been the principle she believed in? Measure everything in money, bind human nature with self-interest.
She had simply never imagined that one day, the blade she took such pride in would be driven back into her own heart.
She said nothing.
She spun around.
Her heels struck the ground in a hurried, uneven rhythm as she vanished through the terrace entrance, looking a little forlorn.
A few days later, on the deck of the Siren's Song.
The sea breeze carried a briny tang as it tousled Veylin's black hair.
The ship was heading toward Stone Salt Town.
During his remaining days in Wrong Anchor Harbor, he had visited practically every market and materials shop.
The port city truly deserved its reputation as southern Sea Land's largest distribution hub. Marine biological materials rarely seen inland, ores, and unusual plants from the Mist Isles could all be found here.
This had greatly broadened his avenues of research.
The [Origin Society First-Round Procurement List] he had submitted to Caroline included not only the standard equipment and raw materials needed to establish a basic biochemistry laboratory, but also a few inconspicuous materials.
Troll regenerative blood.
An adult Petrifying Lizard's magic core.
These were all ingredients for the Barrett Bloodline Evolution Potion.
Veylin had commissioned the Golden Sail Merchant Guild to purchase them at his own expense.
His gaze passed over the railing and settled on the bow.
Caroline stood there, giving orders to several captains.
She had become the decisive, ruthless Silver-Haired Witch again, her presence commanding and unquestionable.
As though sensing his gaze, she abruptly looked back.
Their eyes met for a second.
She immediately turned away, her jaw taut.
Looks like she still can't bear to part with those Gold Suns.
Veylin filed her behavior under "lingering, unproductive emotions."
"Master Veylin."
An elderly voice sounded behind him.
Veylin turned to see the chief Alchemist, Valerius, striding toward him. Even his footsteps seemed to stir a breeze, and his face wore a puzzled expression.
"Master." Veylin nodded in greeting.
"That wasn't alchemy!"
Valerius went straight to the point, his voice trembling. He rushed up to Veylin, making no attempt to hide his excitement.
"'β-1,4-glucosidase inhibitor'! I've consulted every text and asked all my old friends in the Royal Capital! That reasoning... only a god could have conceived such reasoning!"
"May I ask which Alchemy Workshop trained you? Why has your name never appeared in any edition of the Professional Registry?"
"I have no mentor, and I haven't taken up a profession," Veylin stated calmly.
Valerius stopped short. Even his graying beard trembled. He thought he must have misheard in his dotage.
"You haven't... taken up a profession?"
He circled Veylin twice, as though inspecting a magical beast.
"Heavens! This... how is this possible!"
The old man suddenly grew agitated and seized Veylin's arm.
"A genius as great as you is still without a profession? This is a desecration of knowledge! An insult to the path of alchemy!"
"Sir! I, Valerius Sorin, swear upon my fifty years as an Alchemist that I will become your sponsor and mentor! Please, you must take up the Alchemist profession!"
His eyes shone as he rambled through his plans.
"I may not be able to take you straight to the top, but I can teach you everything I've learned in my lifetime-all the wrong turns and shortcuts I've taken, without holding anything back! Your theories combined with my experience... heavens, perhaps you could reach level seven! How many years has it been since Sea Land produced a level-seven powerhouse?"