Chapter 111: The Lost Person

Statues will always be broken, just like the Gregory the Smarmy statue at Hogwarts.

Because there is a secret passage hidden behind it, careless little wizards have cast many repair spells on it.

It is also like the current Professor Sineipu; he broke away from a long stagnation and turned to watch the little wizard who broke this stagnation.

But sometimes silence is relative.

Chill permeated Professor Sineipu's gloomy eyes, while Sean was slightly excited without noticing.

He lit the cauldron skillfully, and then carefully took out materials from the glass cabinet with various strange specimens.

A white slip of paper was hidden in "Advanced Potion-Making," and then shrouded in misty steam.

"Material processing, heat, stirring, ritual..."

Sean recalled every annotation in the notes,

the steps and details inside were the results of his summary and improvement many times.

Only such scientific, quantifiable exploration could allow him to stably brew 【Proficient】 level potions,

and today, the quality of the Boil-Cure Potion is likely to improve again.

This also made Sean full of motivation.

"If you still have some intelligence, Sean Green—you will carefully use those dried nettles, put them in when bubbles just start to appear..."

Professor Sineipu suddenly spoke.

Before he finished speaking, Sean put the dried nettles into the bubbling cauldron,

at the same time, the shorthand quill beside him also recorded this.

It seemed unaffected by the sarcasm at all.

Sineipu's gloomy gaze paused slightly, but soon, his voice appeared again with the sudden thunder:

"Ignorant—don't you know that stirring counterclockwise for more than two and a half turns will make the quality of this potion worse than the dirt in the cauldron?!"

Sean decisively stopped stirring, turned to count seconds, and put slugs into the cauldron.

Facts proved that when sarcasm gets no response,

only the filtered rain sound and the clinking sound of Sean stirring remained in the dungeon.

Professor Sineipu's sarcasm gradually subsided, only occasionally popping out a few "guidance" with chill.

Until—

"It's time—"

Sean's eyes were shining; Master Libatius Borage's improved ritual is a complete process,

it has foreshadowing throughout the entire process of potion brewing, but only at the end will it connect everything hidden before.

The potion in the cauldron also reached the most important moment; at this time, every small action of the wizard for the ritual would lead to violent fluctuations in potion quality.

The moment Sean recited the spell and made the gesture,

Sineipu's pupils shrank; he strode forward, his black robes surging like dark clouds, rushing to the cauldron almost instantly.

Two slips of paper in his large hands were gripped tightly, but didn't cause any change in the shape of the slips—

they were cast with multiple protection spells.

Sean was immersed in the potion without noticing,

he seemed to have become that wizard who was struggling to brew Boil-Cure Potion again.

A powerful emotion wrapped around him and led him to see the finely flowing magic.

Sure enough—

he felt the change of magic in the cauldron, and also vaguely perceived how to guide it to make it fuse more thoroughly, thereby brewing a pot of qualified potion.

But the storm inside the dungeon was almost as violent as outside the dungeon.

Sineipu watched those emerald eyes, watched those extremely familiar techniques:

"Where did you learn it?!"

【You brewed a pot of Boil-Cure Potion completely at an expert standard, proficiency +50】

The panel's prompt and Professor Sineipu's low roar suppressed to the extreme sounded together,

it was so violent that Sean shuddered.

" 'Let Yourself Have a Carnival in a Bottle!', Professor."

Sean couldn't understand this anger.

"Give it to me, the slip."

Professor Sineipu's voice sounded like it was squeezed out of his throat.

Sean silently took out the flat slip from "Advanced Potion-Making," which recorded knowledge about heat.

At the very edge of the slip, almost invisible,

was a shallow "three" written.

When Sean keenly noticed this, he glanced extremely quickly at the slip taken from "Let Yourself Have a Carnival in a Bottle!"

On it was written a shallow "two."

Professor Sineipu's expression was hard to distinguish in the dim light,

only the heavy rain washed the dungeon, making Sean almost unable to hear the professor's faint whisper—if he was speaking when he opened his mouth.

"Sean Green, get out of my dungeon—now! Immediately!"

His anger seemed to have been deposited for decades.

Sean had already sensed the terrible atmosphere and was preparing to leave,

but a slip of paper actually floated out of "Advanced Potion-Making."

Sean stood in place holding the slip,

staring stiffly at Professor Sineipu's murderous gaze.

"Idiot! Get out!!!"

Sean ran holding the slip, but when closing the dungeon door, his movements were still much lighter.

What exactly happened?

What does that number represent?

The number of people who know this knowledge?

If Professor Sineipu knows the knowledge of heat, then who is the second person who knows the knowledge of heat?

But why didn't he or she know about the ritual?

Sean's doubts were like raindrops gathering on the Gothic stained glass, finally turning into an unsolvable mystery flowing to the ground.

In the dungeon.

The cold stone walls seeped with eternal moisture, mixed with the bitter and sharp scent of aged potion materials, solidifying into a unique air belonging to Severus Sineipu.

He curled up behind the huge black oak desk, like a bat lurking deep in a rock crevice, watching those slips, which was the only thing he could do.

In "Advanced Potion-Making," two slips were stacked together, with "one" and "three" written on them,

the missing one carried the days when he could only see the bright sunshine, it was a secret he once guarded together with someone...

In "Let Yourself Have a Carnival in a Bottle!", "one" and "two" were scattered.

This disappearance of people only stemmed from his mistake...

His fingers loosened slightly, the slip didn't deform, but the movement was slow to the point of exhaustion.

His gaze was cast toward that lost slip, as if he could penetrate the wall and see the rainy night and the break-up from a long time ago.

Hatred and an unspeakable, tearing anger collided wildly in his chest.

He seemed to hear that word again, the sin he could never redeem in his life.

Thus the past gripped his throat like a ghost.

He thought he would hold this slip forever, until that idiot broke into the dungeon.

His expression was complex,

he knew, the notes would always be discovered by the next person...

Truth never ends,

just like love and hate.

On the corridor,

torches shone on the armor, reflecting light.

A short and fat knight shuttled through different paintings, occasionally knocking over a witch's wine glass,

and was greeted fiercely by the other party holding a bouquet.

Sir Cadogan didn't care, muttering in a low voice:

"Aha—I thought that old story wouldn't change, he guards those hates, and has forgotten his love for potions,

and now, a new, faint story seems to be appearing, hmm, is it hope? They all say so..."

Just as Sean swept past here,

a figure shrouded in dark clouds suddenly appeared in front of him.

Sean looked at the suddenly appearing Professor Sineipu nervously,

green reflected in his dark black eyes:

"For three days after every Thursday, I want to see you in the dungeon, don't make me regret making this decision..."

Sorry, the deer got stuck, I'll make up for one update at dawn. ===== CHAPTER 112 =====