Ambition City, Lord’s Castle.

  Mira sat cross-legged on her chair, resting her chin in her hands, lost in thought.

  With a creak, the grand doors suddenly swung open.

  At once, the self-procimed dignified lord sat up straight, composing herself as she gnced toward the entrance with a calm expression.

  She was met with the sight of Prinplup swaggering in, casting a disinterested gnce at her poised demeanor before rolling its eyes in a rather human-like fashion.

  Who are you trying to fool in front of me… Paying no mind to the lord, Prinplup strode over to the table and casually grabbed a Berry, taking a bite.

  “Hah, I spaced out again.” Mira let out a sigh, slumping back into her chair before zily picking up a document from the table, flipping through it absentmindedly.

  Rustle, rustle, rustle.

  Just then, the sound of armor cnking echoed through the hall.

  At the same time, from beyond the doors Prinplup had left open, the figure of Knight Kevin appeared in the distance.

  He’s here… Mira silently noted as she sat up properly at the desk. “Kevin, do you have results?”

  From afar, Kevin heard his lord’s question and strode into the hall with purposeful steps. Stopping before her, he executed a standard knight’s salute before reporting, “Your Highness, I have investigated the apothecary named Samuel.”

  “So? What did you find?” Mira asked, her tone unhurried as she pondered.

  “His background is spotless. His deceased parents were ordinary commoners.” Kevin reyed the detailed report on Samuel before adding, “Too spotless, in fact.”

  Too spotless… Mira furrowed her brows. She understood what her knight was implying—how could someone with such an unremarkable background have mastered the art of potion-making?

  Apothecary studies were incredibly complex; it wasn’t as simple as obtaining a formu. The process required precise techniques, exact proportions, and carefully timed ingredient additions—all of which influenced the potion’s success and effectiveness.

  Judging by his performance during the potion-making, Samuel was certainly no novice. Moreover, that unique formu of his—it was far too refined to be mere guesswork.

  Afterward, she had discreetly inquired among the other apothecaries, only to find that they were unanimous in their astonishment and admiration.

  Samuel’s methods were extraordinarily sophisticated—far beyond anything they had learned. Many suspected that a highly skilled master apothecary stood behind him.

  “Kevin, where do you think Samuel learned his apothecary skills?”

  Suppressing the urge to mess up her hair in frustration, Mira turned to her most trusted knight.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It could be from an ancient tome, or perhaps from one of the major factions.”

  Kevin pondered for a moment before adding, “Your Highness, have you forgotten our greatest adversary?”

  Hearing this, Mira drummed her fingers on the desk, her brows knit together. “Are they pnning to make a move against me?”

  “It’s only specution.”

  Seeing the troubled expression on his liege’s face, Kevin offered reassurance.

  Specution… Mira nodded. “Continue keeping watch over him at Berlitz Farm. Until we fully understand his identity, we cannot recruit him.”

  Kevin nodded, accepting the command before withdrawing.

  “Just whose pawn are you?”

  “And why did you expose yourself? Was it really just to save a Petilil?”

  In the vast and empty hall, Mira let out a quiet sigh, gazing at the overcast sky in the distance. A storm seemed to be brewing.

  ...

  Berlitz Farm, Small Cabin.

  Samuel was in the middle of brewing a healing potion using Berries.

  “Although potion-making has been rewarding…”

  “The risks it brings are far greater than I anticipated.”

  Skillfully crushing an Oran Berry and adding its juice—precisely three drops—Samuel let out a small sigh.

  By now, there were surely many people investigating him. After all, an apothecary from a commoner’s background was highly suspicious.

  Mastering potion-making required countless hours of practice. For someone of his status, obtaining enough Berries for proper training should have been impossible.

  He had indeed considered using potions as a means of making money, but after realizing how difficult it would be to expin his skills, he had immediately abandoned the idea.

  On the other hand, the formu for growth fertilizer was different. While fresh Berries were out of his reach, rotten ones were plentiful in his line of work.

  He could easily cim to have discovered the formu by accident, perhaps even attributing it to an old family secret—after all, his parents had been orchard farmers.

  But back then, in that critical moment, he had no other choice but to reveal his skills to save Petilil.

  And to ensure the potion’s effectiveness was convincing, he had to dispy a level of expertise that would earn the apothecaries’ recognition.

  So now… how should he expin his knowledge?

  Samuel frowned slightly. Should he go with the cssic mysterious old mentor trope seen in so many stories?

  That would only raise more suspicions. Even if such a mentor existed, people would question their true motives.

  Would they have trained him out of kindness? Or simply because they saw potential in him?

  Talent made sense for Pokémon, but for an apothecary? How could one measure it?

  This world was steeped in darkness and cruelty. Samuel had no way of predicting how others would react.

  “In the end, it all comes down to power.” Clenching his fist, Samuel muttered, “If I were a Champion-level Trainer, none of this would matter.”

  At that moment, a deep yearning for strength burned in his eyes.

  On the other side of the room, Petilil y nestled in its flower pot, basking in the rich nutrients of the soil, slowly drifting into slumber.

  After these days of care, the leaves atop its head had grown significantly greener—proof of its thriving health.

  Stealing a gnce at the peacefully sleeping Pokémon, Samuel smiled. It reassured him that all his efforts had been worthwhile.

  But in that brief moment of distraction, his potion suddenly emitted a wisp of smoke—signifying failure.

  Unfazed, he shook the vial before downing its contents in one gulp. It had a slightly sweet taste.

  Almost instantly, he felt his fatigue melt away—far more effective than any coffee.

  Failure was an inevitable part of potion-making. Berlitz had told him the success rate was about one in three.

  For every three potions he made, he was expected to fail twice. But considering the tenfold profit margin, the losses were negligible.

  Still… what a waste. I could’ve had an extra healing potion for myself… Samuel sighed, rubbing his chest at the thought. His gaze hardened.

  No matter what happened, he had to get stronger.

  -----

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