Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Lorca eventually found Eve under the veranda.

He had just endured a round of criticism from his mother and younger brother in the living room. The elaborate preparations he had made before escaping with Agnes might have fooled their eyes, but not their hearts.

“Even now, you refuse to explain clearly what exactly happened,” Mrs. Luo sighed, rubbing her forehead with a bitter smile. “If it weren’t for those mercenaries… I truly dread to imagine the consequences. My dear, you’re no longer a child; you should think things through more carefully before acting.”

Lorca kept his head bowed throughout, silent, feeling their gazes—a mix of relief and disappointment—linger on him. He knew that beyond these spoken words, many more unspoken thoughts remained.

What they truly wanted to say was: since your life is destined to be short, why can’t you just live it peacefully?

The other three indeed felt like sighing. Even though Lorca had never been involved in family affairs, he still managed to contact an alchemist outside the Oliver family’s influence and arrange his escape.

With such a brilliant mind, why was he cursed with such a frail body?

Lorca felt he should resent that mercenary. She had deceived him, claiming she was on a family mission to rescue him—which was why he had agreed to cooperate and escape with her. But that excuse turned out to be a lie.

He had always detested being lied to, yet even after she had deceived him, when she emphatically declared that Agnes couldn’t save him, he had easily believed her again.

Mrs. Luo and Ludwig’s scolding seemed endless, and the chronic pain in his head intensified. Lorca did his best to maintain his composure. Finally, the family patriarch, seeing his dejected expression, intervened, cutting short their excessive worrying.

“Alright, Lorca didn’t intentionally mean to worry you all. Even ants have an instinct for survival, let alone a living young man like him.”

The patriarch fixed his green eyes—identical to Lorca’s—intently on the boy who had grown into a young man: “I believe, whether this was a kidnapping or not, you had your own reasons in this matter, didn’t you, Lorca?”

Lorca remained silent for a moment before finally uttering a low “Hmm.”

“That’s enough. As for the alchemist you brought back, I admit she’s a clever girl, but I’m not entirely convinced of her alchemical abilities. Still, since you’re willing to trust her, I’m willing to give her a chance.”

The patriarch continued, “But remember, your family will always love you the most. Don’t be so reckless next time. You can always discuss anything with your family. Now, don’t mope indoors. Young people should get out more. Since your health is poor, it’s even more important to exercise.”

Ludwig was secretly signaling from the side—a trick the two brothers had played since childhood, meaning he wanted Lorca to wait just outside the door once they were out of their parents’ sight, as he had something to tell his older brother.

But for the first time in this place where he had grown up, Lorca felt utterly exhausted—so mentally drained that he couldn’t be bothered with his brother’s little games. He still bid a gentle farewell to each family member but didn’t wait for his brother at the door. Instead, he turned and walked out into the sunlight.

He had changed clothes earlier on the starship and was now wearing a light gray high-necked sweater with a black overcoat—his usual attire at home.

The temperature on the capital planet was just right, but to him, it felt unexpectedly chilly. He tightened his coat and, unusually, didn’t use his wheelchair, choosing instead to stroll around the courtyard.

He carried his usual specialized pain medication in his coat pocket, but Lorca didn’t take it. His body was simply too frail. Even without the headache, he had to stop and rest after just a few steps.

Lorca looked down at his pale, powerless hands and let out a low, bitter chuckle.

What good was extraordinary talent if he was burdened with a body that could fail at any moment? What more could he possibly demand?

The Oliver residence’s garden was filled with deep red roses—Mrs. Luo’s favorite flower. But Lorca didn’t care for such vibrant colors, so he merely glanced at them from a distance before turning uninterestedly toward the rear veranda.

It was then, as he rounded the corner, that he happened to see Eve sitting lost in thought on the railing beneath the veranda.

This area had once been where the family members who instigated the rebellion over a decade ago lived. After they were purged, the place they once inhabited fell into neglect and was rarely visited.

The young, mysterious alchemist was once again draped in her dark robe, her face hidden behind a silver mask. It was unclear how she had found this place. Her legs were long, so even while sitting on the railing, the tips of her toes could still touch the ground.

She seemed deep in thought, and sitting there alone, she exuded a somewhat detached, melancholic aura.

Although Lorca knew this illusion was merely his own empathy—someone like her would never harbor such fragile and useless emotions as melancholy.

Eve was sitting there, pondering her earlier “interrogation” of Louis. Under mental control, she had questioned him about the Divine Realm Lord and matters related to Four-Star Alchemists.

He had been quite fluent when it came to topics about alchemists and the Alchemist Association. For example, once one reached the level of a Four-Star Alchemist, they would gain the right to enter and exit the Divine Realm once. This was a special favor bestowed upon high-ranking Alchemists by “that one.” If one’s comprehension was exceptional, they might even grasp truths about alchemy during this consultation.

But when it came to the Divine Realm Lord, his answers were far more circuitous.

She first asked directly if he knew the origins of the Divine Realm Lord. Louis’s face twisted with struggle and pain, as if he were on the verge of breaking free from the mental control. Eve was forced to withdraw the question and casually erase that part of his memory. When she instead asked who Cionanado was, his response flowed much more smoothly.

He said, “He is the alchemist who has come closest to godhood in history.”

Eve: “……”

Well, now she knew who it was.

So certain terms, like “Divine Realm Lord,” seemed to be taboo subjects in Louis’s mind. Even under control, he would intentionally conceal information for the other party.

Fortunately, he clearly wasn't too sharp. Changing the phrasing of the question didn’t hinder the interrogation.

She also asked Louis if he knew who Agnes was, but his mental world was simply too fragile. Such deep probing, almost scouring the depths of his memory, couldn’t withstand many rounds. Combined with the intense subconscious resistance from asking about the Divine Realm Lord first, after stammering out a few words like “non-human species” and “aberration,” Louis’s mental world was already on the verge of collapse.

Eve was somewhat afraid that if she continued like this, she might actually turn him into a fool or a madman—that would be too great a disservice to the Oliver Family.

So in the end, she stopped in time, cleaned up the day’s memories, and fabricated a new memory for Louis. She made him remember that the newly arrived alchemist had visited him today, that they had engaged in a friendly but superficial exchange, that she said she didn’t need help, and that she left uneventfully.

The moment her finger left Louis’s brow, the green-robed alchemist collapsed face-first onto the table with a thud, completely unsupported.

“Truly a typical alchemist raised by a family.”

Eve tapped Louis’s forehead and sighed.

His sense of danger was weak too. Aside from alchemy, he cared about nothing else—not even as much as the rumors about another Five-Star Alchemist. She had heard that person was born with an E-grade congenital disability but, upon becoming a high-ranking Alchemist, immediately forced himself to reach A-grade through potions.

They were both in the same profession, both held such high positions—how could he have so little sense of danger? If he ever encountered a true expert, even a room full of alchemy arrays wouldn’t save him before he was killed.

Eve felt she was still too kind. Fortunately, her kindness had limits, and she had no intention of leaving Louis with memories of this valuable lesson.

As she was deep in thought, someone suddenly patted her shoulder, interrupting her reverie.

Eve turned her head: “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Lorca said, wearing his signature gentle smile. “Why are you sitting here daydreaming? What’s on your mind?”

Of course, she couldn’t say she was thinking about knocking out his clansman and then brainwashing him—even if that clansman didn’t seem like a decent person.

Eve’s eyes shifted. “I was thinking about your treatment plan.”

“Oh?”

Lorca looked genuinely interested, listening intently. He lifted the hem of his coat and sat down on the railing beside Eve.

Two people: one facing the sunlit corner of the garden outside the veranda, the other facing the wall split between light and shadow. Yet they sat closely together, like a cluster of intertwined flowers—one blooming brightly in the sunlight, the other silently decaying in the darkness.

Lorca stared at the sharp line of light and shadow on the wall, thinking a bit darkly.

Eve had no idea where the young master’s thoughts had wandered off to. She had only brought up the treatment plan casually, but now that she mentioned it, she actually had an idea.

After a moment of contemplation, though, she felt it was best to discuss treatment options directly with the patient. So she said, “Actually, it’s like this: I once read about a certain potion in a book that should be very effective for your poisoning. But upon further consideration, I realized that potion seems to have some flaws.”

It was one included in Cionanado’s manuscripts, called “Decomposition.” It could break down the toxins in Lorca’s body into their original components, making it well-suited as a stabilizing agent for his condition.

But after decomposition, what then?

According to Eve’s observation, the toxin within Lorca was a highly pure existence. Even if it could be broken down or alleviated, it would merely transform from a large toxin into smaller ones, still remaining inside his body.

She did have an idea, though it was somewhat risky, so she felt it was better to get Lorca’s agreement first.

“The toxin in your body is actually very difficult to eliminate at the source. I believe previous alchemists have already told you this.”

Eve briefly explained the situation to him, assuming that Lorca should have some basic understanding of his own condition, though she wasn’t sure how much.

If she had to say, Eve felt that among Lorca’s successive attending alchemists, Agnes’s skill level was likely the highest. But she didn’t know if Agnes had previously shared her research findings with him, as the two seemed to have a polite but distant dynamic.

“By the way, did you know your spiritual state has actually mutated?” Eve asked after some thought.

Lorca nodded: “A flower has grown on my head, but no one knows why it mutated in this way.”

“That flower is actually drawing energy from the root of your spiritual state. Because of it, your spiritual state has been weakened; its current strength is only at A-level.”

Lorca showed no reaction to this. In his view, ever since he lost full control of his spiritual state, whether the snake was S-level or A-level didn’t matter much to him.

Seeing his blank, almost lifeless expression, Eve thought he had resigned himself to the fact that his spiritual state had degraded. But it did sound pretty bleak, so she comforted him: “You don’t need to be too upset. Actually, I have a method that could both solve your poison condition and address your spiritual state problem at the same time. It’s just that the method might be a bit risky. I wonder if you’d mind.”

Hearing this, Lorca turned his head, looking both incredulous and surprised. He hadn’t expected that this alchemist he had casually brought back would actually have a way to solve the long-standing affliction that had plagued him.

“You really have a method?” he asked.

“Of course, why would I lie to you?” Eve gave him a strange look. “I plan to break down the toxin and then transfer it. The first option is to transfer it to your spiritual state. Theoretically, this is feasible because your toxin is a spiritual poison, which shares a commonality with the spiritual state. But since no one has ever conducted such an experiment before, the risks are very high. It’s possible that you might have had a few more years to live, but if I make a mistake, you could die on the spot.”

Eve continued: “So you should think carefully. I also have a more conservative approach, which, although it can’t cure you completely, could extend your life by a few years…”

“Okay.”

“—it should be no problem. Wait, what did you say?”

Eve hadn’t finished speaking when she was interrupted by this resolute response.

“I said okay. Let’s go with the first option.”

Eve turned her head to look at the burning fighting spirit in the young man’s eyes.

Could such a pale face and such calm, lifeless green eyes really ignite such intense vitality?

“I accept the first option,” Lorca repeated, his tone solemn. “Feel free to give it your all. It’s okay even if it fails.”

After all, in this household, aside from him, no one else believed that this obscure young alchemist could actually cure the young master’s long-standing toxin—they all thought she had just caught the eye of the Rosses and was recommended here.

Just as, aside from Eve, no one else in this household would be so enthusiastically and seriously thinking about how to cure this innate toxin, because no one truly believed anymore that the young master’s illness could be healed.

Their situations were the same: equally unanticipated, equally with nothing left to lose.

Lorca had never realized this so clearly before. He gently grasped Eve’s wrist, but his words were firm and powerful: “I don’t want to continue with those conservative methods anymore. I no longer wish to live this kind of barely scraping by life. Be bold in your attempt. I will prepare a will and make arrangements in advance before the treatment. Even if I die unexpectedly during the treatment, you will not be held responsible.”

Eve blinked, looking at him with curiosity, as if meeting him for the first time: “Aren’t you afraid that I might deliberately mess up and end up killing you?”

How strange. She had thought this guy was the type who, if he were to die, would definitely drag others down with him.

“If you really wanted my life, you could have easily done it on Venomfang without waiting to return to Oliver.”

Lorca was well aware that if Eve merely wanted to gain a favor, she could have directly handed the potion and the plan to the Olivers, leaving it to them to decide whether to proceed. She could even have given it to the Rosses, who would then pass it on, minimizing the risk of being blamed if it failed.

But since she stood here, in front of him, asking for his opinion, this act itself was a symbol of her willingness to take responsibility.

She respected his right to decide over his own life, so of course he was willing to return that respect.

Feeling inexplicably good, Lorca curled his lips into a slight smile: “Besides, isn’t it very important to maintain a mutually trusting and friendly relationship with one’s attending physician before surgery? I just hope the two of us can be open with each other.”

“Open with each other? Well, hearing such words from you is quite unusual.”

Eve jumped down from the railing, her leather boots stepping into the muddy soil of the garden below the veranda, a few fallen rose petals releasing small traces of sap under her feet.

She took a couple of casual steps, then turned back to look at Lorca and smiled: “Although I don’t know what kind of scenario you’ve imagined for me in your mind, I’m quite satisfied with your attitude. It means that at least the upcoming treatment can have a harmonious beginning.”

From under her black robe, she extended a slender, pale hand—a young girl’s hand, with distinct knuckles and faint traces of veins visible under the sunlight.

Beautiful, healthy. When stretched out toward Lorca, it inexplicably stirred a sense of longing and envy in his heart.

“Let’s go to the laboratory,” Eve said. “Let me examine you and get a proper look.”