"What exactly are you planning to do?" Makarov demanded, sensing something was wrong but still unaware of the details.
"I want Noel to see the world beyond the Gate," Mond replied with a faint smile.
Makarov didn't fully understand, but he knew that for alchemists, the so-called Gate was the Gate of Truth. Alchemists pursued the law of Equivalent Exchange, and opening that gate required a heavy price. One thing was certain: the price would be enormous, as it meant glimpsing the very laws of the world.
"Have you truly made up your mind?" Makarov asked in a low voice.
"Of course." Mond's face was calm, almost relieved.
"But let me warn you: don't go down the wrong path. Don't drag Noel into your reckless dreams. Your ideals may seem noble to you, but do you know what they will mean for him? You're still so selfish, never considering things from others' perspectives." Makarov sighed.
"This is for his own good. I've more or less figured out what the price will be. It should require a soul."
"A soul? Are you insane? Don't tell me you're planning to sacrifice someone else! That's illegal, Mond! If you actually go through with this, I won't hesitate to report you to the Council!"
Makarov was visibly agitated, wanting to lash out, but he restrained himself, holding a complex tangle of anger and helplessness in his chest.
"Oh, come now, it's not like that." Mond chuckled. "No one else will be harmed because the soul I plan to use is my own."
"This will be the final gift from a master to his apprentice. I truly hope Noel will surpass me, which is why this must be done."
"Have you even considered how Noel would feel about this? If you sacrifice your soul for him, how could he possibly live with that guilt?"
"Even if he accepts this power, will he truly be able to bear its weight?"
Makarov could not understand what was going on inside Mond's mind. It was far too domineering, far too unfair to Noel.
"If I brought him into this, then I must take responsibility for him. I believe in his talent, and I believe in his resilient heart. He'll find his way, no matter how dark it may get."
"Even if the road ahead is shrouded in fog, there will still be light to guide him forward. I've also made preparations in case he can't handle it. When that happens, I need you to help him."
What is this, a dying man entrusting his child to me? Makarov was furious, wanting to refuse outright, but in the end, he found he had no reason to do so.
"…Fine, I'll agree." Makarov glared fiercely at Mond. "But it's not because of you. It's because that child deserves better. If there's a next life, Mond, don't become someone's master again. It's too hard to be your apprentice."
"There's no helping it." Mond sighed. "This is the way of alchemists who carry on the legacy. Otherwise, how would we know the world's secrets?"
Mond's eyes darkened, as if he had become a different person.
"I once had a master too. When he passed down all he knew to me, he took me to see the world beyond the Gate. This won't be my first time going there. But this time, I'll be going as the price itself."
"I really don't want to go back there, you know. Every visit to that place leaves behind pain and sorrow." Yet, strangely, Mond's expression was peaceful.
"I don't care about your past. This path you've decided on for Noel is meaningless. He should have the freedom to walk his own path, not one you've forced upon him," Makarov retorted.
"Let me be selfish just once more, Makarov. I believe Noel will understand and accept that," Mond replied softly.
"You're just like a child sometimes." Makarov muttered.
Knock, knock, knock. There was a knock at the door.
"Master, I've brought you some tea. You've been talking for so long, you must be thirsty."
"Come in," Mond called quietly.
Noel carefully opened the door, taking care not to disturb the conversation, and tiptoed in to set the tea down before them. This was his first time entering the study, as it was usually off-limits unless there were guests.
Master really likes being in here. He must be studying something, Noel thought.
"You didn't hear any of our conversation just now, did you? What we discussed is confidential," Mond said coolly.
Why is Master acting so different today? He doesn't usually wear that expression. Did I do something wrong? But I've been well-behaved lately, so why would he be mad at me?
"I only just finished cleaning up and thought you'd be thirsty after talking so long, so I brought tea," Noel quickly explained.
"I see. Then have a seat," Mond said, glancing at Makarov, who immediately understood: Don't mention what we talked about.
The atmosphere was heavy as Noel sat down. With two elders in the room, he didn't dare speak, and the oppressive silence felt suffocating.
Finally, as Noel was about to say something to break the silence, Makarov spoke up first:
"If there's no other way, then let's proceed with a formal commission for your workshop, Mond. At the very least, we can have you craft some medicines to stabilize Laxus' condition while I'll have Porlyusica handle his long-term treatment. Does that work?"
Mond followed the topic immediately. "I have some ideas for those medicines, but you'll have to provide the materials yourself, you know that. Alchemists generally lack combat power and spend a long time gathering materials and preparing them for refinement. Few are willing to take on unnecessary tasks."
"That's acceptable." Makarov nodded, knowing this was standard for alchemy commissions. Alchemists always required the client to supply the materials, and it was entirely reasonable.
"Noel, pay attention to this. When you take on commissions in the future, this is how you should handle negotiations. This profession is not free, you understand? While it can earn money, it also consumes a lot of money. Producing an alchemist with cheap, cut-rate methods is pointless." Mond lectured.
Noel could only nod quietly. For some reason, Mond's presence felt different today, heavy and authoritative, leaving him with no room to speak. He could only sit there and listen, powerless to guide the conversation or make decisions in this negotiation.
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