Episode 47
Fracture
The festival had finally come to an end.
Lowell could finally relax and stretch his limbs. It had been a long time since he’d been this engrossed in something, and he had thrown himself into it completely.
He must have been exhausted. All the missed sleep from the past few days had caught up to him, and he ended up sleeping deeply, enough to blur the memories of the previous night.
Yet, paradoxically, his mind felt unusually clear. Taking a deep breath with a light heart, he opened the window. A cool breeze drifted in, brushing gently through his hair.
“…Why is this empty?”
That’s when he noticed a potion bottle sitting on the windowsill.
A red ribbon means it’s an experimental potion…
The bottle, now completely empty, had a red string tied around the stopper. Lowell had always used colored cords to distinguish between his potions. At this time of the year, any bottle on his desk could only be one thing.
It was part of a formula he’d been working on—an experimental version of his love potion, Beta 3. But the bottle was completely drained. It’s not like someone would’ve taken it to drink, and he didn’t recall throwing it away or spilling it. So where on earth did it disappear to…?
Ah. That explains why I was so out of it yesterday.
The moment the thought struck, Lowell froze, staring blankly at the bottle.
— “Well, nothing really changed, so I don’t think I drank anything bad!”
He suddenly recalled Temia awkwardly brushing the bottle aside. Perhaps she’d been embarrassed by her mistake. He had assumed she was referring to the food, but now it seemed it had been the potion.
He had told Lerry to bring a stamina recovery potion, but with all the cleaning and rearranging lately, it was likely things had gotten mixed up. The familiar probably recognized the red ribbon but mistook it for one of the regular stamina potions—especially since Lowell had clearly pointed out where to find it.
Lowell sighed and rubbed his forehead, unable to even muster the energy to be angry. His mind still felt hazy and dazed from the lingering effects of the potion. Thankfully, he hadn’t lost all memory of the things he said or did while under its influence. So, he slowly began to retrace his steps from the day of the festival.
Let’s see… Yesterday, sales had gone well. He’d had fun teasing his impressively expressive assistant. The time they spent together—brief as it was—had been surprisingly pleasant. He hadn’t expected much, but it had fulfilled a quiet expectation he hadn’t fully realized he had.
Dancing with Temia hadn’t been uncomfortable—it had been genuinely enjoyable. Even later, walking through the crowd holding her hand, he hadn’t felt awkward. Instead, he’d been… slightly excited. And even now, after the effects of the potion had worn off, the feeling remained.
It really was strange. I didn’t know human touch could be this… not unpleasant.
Aside from his studies in magic, nothing had ever piqued his interest this much. And for that interest to be sparked by a person—Lowell himself couldn’t have predicted that.
In other words, even after the potion had worn off, he didn’t feel the slightest aversion to anything he had said or done to Temia. In fact, he felt as though he could do it all over again without hesitation.
This is… unexpected.
Every human he had ever met had seemed pathetic to him—greedy and unaware of their own limits. After so many encounters like that, there were few positive memories he could associate with others.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d instinctively recoiled whenever someone else touched him. Though he’d never made a show of it, it was no secret that he didn’t enjoy being touched.
So the fact that he felt the same way with or without the potion—meant that the emotion he felt was genuine. Not artificially induced by the potion, but a feeling that had already taken root.
Am I… actually fond of Temia?
Perhaps it was a kind of personal affection. His subconscious must have already placed her in a more important category than he had realized. She was one of the rare few he didn’t instinctively dislike. He had never thought it would go beyond that, but this incident made him reconsider her place in his life.
Thinking of it that way, the other puzzle fell into place too. The guest from Viscount Ricru’s estate had probably already held some affection for Temia, which is why the potion hadn’t had any obvious effects.
Of course! There’s no way my potion was faulty…
A deep sense of satisfaction bloomed in Lowell’s chest. It was a relief to resolve the issue that had been bothering him so easily.
He picked up his research journal and jotted down his findings in elegant handwriting.
[Love Potion Sample Test Result: If the subject already has a certain degree of affection, the potion may not show any significant effect. Add this to the usage notes.]
The mage propped his chin on his hand and chuckled softly. Whether that laughter was because of the resolved problem—or because he was starting to acknowledge the depth of his own feelings—he didn’t yet know.
—
Temia, on the other hand, had her own thoughts.
There’s definitely something weird going on with that man…
Of course, the mage had always had a strange, slightly off-killer way of thinking. But this time felt different—at least from Temia’s perspective.
After the festival ended, Temia had crashed in her room like a corpse, barely managing to do some light cleanup before passing out. Lowell had gone back to his lab, but she remembered hearing movement on the stairs just before she fell asleep, so he must’ve returned to his room shortly after.
From then on, her sleep had been so deep she didn’t even dream.
But the next day, Lowell began acting… odd. Not enough to call him out on it, but enough to raise suspicion.
First was the way he stared at her—too intensely, too often. He wasn’t smiling, and his face held a rare seriousness. It made it impossible to joke around. With his lips tightly shut, the sharp air around him grew tenser, and Temia began to wonder if she had done something wrong.
Did he find something out? No… but I didn’t do anything suspicious.
Her dealings with Rio had long been resolved, and after that, she’d gone straight to Lowell. She’d been nothing but professional. If she had done something inappropriate, Lowell would’ve scolded her immediately.
Then what’s with him?
Unable to bear the weight of his stare, she finally asked if something was wrong, but all he did was shake his head and say it was nothing.
And that wasn’t the only strange thing.
When Temia reached for a potion on the top shelf, her fingertips brushed a bottle and knocked it loose. She closed her eyes instinctively, bracing for the crash.
But the expected sound of shattering glass never came.
Why didn’t I hear it break?
Peeking through one eye, she was startled to see Lowell right in front of her, his hand barely catching the bottle just before it hit her.
The real problem was that his other hand was braced against the wall, which meant he was now standing very, very close.
Flustered, Temia quickly mumbled her thanks and stepped back in a rush. But Lowell just stood there in silence, staring at her, not moving a muscle.
Thinking something else might’ve fallen, she asked cautiously:
“…Lowell? Are you hurt or something?”
“I’m fine. What about you, Temia?”
“Well… thanks to you, I’m okay.”
“Then that’s good. Hm… I think we should get a small ladder to make your work easier. Just wait a moment.”
He scanned her from head to toe and muttered something under his breath before disappearing.
Moments later, he returned with a perfectly sized ladder, placed it down for her, and went right back to his work like nothing had happened.
Only Temia remained behind, utterly baffled.
“…What’s with him? Is he sick or something…?”
—
Even after leaving her side, Lowell remained frozen for a while. It took a long time before he could gather his thoughts and sit down in his lab.
The moment he saw that bottle falling toward Temia’s head, his body had moved on its own.
Normally, he would’ve taken his time, casting a spell and scolding her for being a clumsy assistant. He might even have adjusted the impact so it broke without hurting her—just to tease her.
But this time… he hadn’t even thought about it.
He stared out the window. The idea of Temia getting hurt was… unpleasant. Of course, no one would enjoy seeing someone suddenly bleed in front of them—but even setting that aside, the thought of her getting hurt irritated him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Because she’s a surprisingly competent assistant?
Could that really be the only reason?
Lowell couldn’t understand himself. After analyzing yesterday’s incident with the love potion, he’d come to terms with the fact that he held a certain level of affection for Temia.
But still—affection was just affection. She was simply a rare type he didn’t find annoying, someone who kept him entertained.
What truly set her apart was that she was easy to be around. Her blunt honesty meant he didn’t need to overthink anything. She didn’t seem to expect anything from him—especially not rewards, like most people did. In fact, it seemed more like she hadn’t even figured out how useful he could be.
But even if she did… she probably wouldn’t change.
Maybe that’s why I felt comfortable around her.
After going over the thought multiple times, Lowell finally reached a conclusion.
He liked Temia more than he had realized.
Spotting danger, moving without thinking—that wasn’t like him at all. Normally, he would’ve blamed it on her carelessness and tossed her a healing potion afterward.
Back when she’d burned herself at the cauldron, he’d helped her only because she was still a novice. But this time… there was no logical explanation.
And that was the real problem.
As someone who always attached a reason to his every action—even small acts of kindness—Lowell was deeply bothered by his own inexplicable behavior.
But after hundreds of mental loops with no answer, he finally made a conclusion that was unlike him.
Well… it’s a little different from what I expected, but there’s no real harm in it. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. I’ll just let it be.
It was the arrogant judgment of someone who couldn’t see the future—and the best conclusion a man unskilled in emotions could come up with.
