The new contract, still smelling of Master Grimes's nervous sweat and cheap ink, was a frail shield, but it was Leo's first true possession in this new life. It granted him three silvers a week—a pittance, but more than the room and board he'd previously received—and, critically, "supervised access to the stockroom for supplemental study."
Supervised meant Grimes would glower from the doorway. But it was access.
The rest of the day was a surreal pantomime. Leo scrubbed floors, dusted shelves, and sorted dried mandrake root with muscles that ached from forgotten labor. All the while, the God-Eye hummed in his vision, an incessant, glorious distraction.
Every person who entered the shop was an open book.
A harried mother buying willow-bark tea: Sin: 38 (Lied to her husband about the price of a new dress). Her strings were simple: Love for her child, Fear of debt.
A city guardsman with a nasty cut: Sin: 155 (Accepts bribes to ignore certain tavern brawls). His string: Desire for promotion. Price: Evidence against his superior.
The data was overwhelming, a cacophony of petty crimes and human frailty. Leo learned to focus, to let the general noise fade and pull forward only the information he sought. It was like flexing a new mental muscle.
As dusk settled, Grimes locked the front door with a final, fearful glance at Leo. "Two hours. No more. And if anything is out of place, so help me…"
"I understand, Master Grimes," Leo said, his tone flat, devoid of the old obsequiousness.
Alone in the back, the only light from a single magelamp, Leo stood before the stockroom door. This was his true starting point. Not with a legendary weapon or a hidden inheritance, but with dried herbs, powdered minerals, and acidic reagents.
He opened the door. The familiar, complex scent of a hundred ingredients washed over him—earthy, sharp, floral, rotten. In his past life, this room had been a prison of tedious labor. Now, it was a treasure vault.
And the God-Eye agreed.
As his gaze swept over the jars and bundles, faint, shimmering golden threads appeared, connecting certain ingredients to each other, and some to points beyond the room's walls. These were not the strings of people, but Paths—the system's quest lines.
A jar of common [Blue Cap Moss] had a thread leading to a crate of [Sun-Dried River Snails]. Another thread, emanating from a vial of [Tears of the Moon] (a pretentious name for distilled lunar-water), led not to another ingredient, but straight down, through the floorboards.
PathDiscovered:'TheApothecary'sSecret'PathDiscovered:'TheApothecary'sSecret'
Objective:CombineBlueCapMoss,RiverSnailAsh,andLunar−Waterinthehiddenbasin.Objective:CombineBlueCapMoss,RiverSnailAsh,andLunar−Waterinthehiddenbasin.
Reward:Unknown.Reward:Unknown.
A hidden basin? Under the shop?
Ignoring the moss-and-snail path for now, Leo focused on the lunar-water. He took the vial, its liquid glowing softly in the magelamp's light. He followed the golden thread with his eyes; it led to a seemingly solid flagstone near the drain. Kneeling, he ran his fingers along the edges. There was a nearly imperceptible gap.
He needed a tool. His eyes scanned the cluttered workbench. A God-Eye thread flared, connecting a stout iron pestle to the flagstone's edge. A lever.
Wrenching the pestle into the gap, he heaved. With a gritty groan, the flagstone tilted up, revealing a shallow, stone basin, dry and stained with old, multi-colored residues. A secret mixing well.
His heart pounded. This was it. Active use of the system. Not just observation.
He uncorked the [Tears of the Moon]. As he poured the silvery liquid into the basin, the golden thread from the vial pulsed brightly. The liquid didn't pool as expected. It swirled, defying gravity, climbing the basin's sides in intricate, glowing patterns that matched the God-Eye's own script.
A new notification seared his vision.
ConditionMet:Lunar−WaterintheSecretBasin.ConditionMet:Lunar−WaterintheSecretBasin.
HiddenVendorMenuUnlocked.HiddenVendorMenuUnlocked.
The air above the basin shimmered. A small, translucent shop interface appeared, like a window into another realm. It listed three items, their prices not in gold, but in Life-Force Essence.
Recipe: [Lesser Potion of False Health] - Cost: 1 Essence
Recipe: [Philter of Minor Truth] - Cost: 3 Essence
Seed of the Whispering Vine (Grade 0) - Cost: 5 Essence
Essence. He had none. A flicker of despair threatened. Then he remembered the system's initial analysis. Mortal Fragment – Grade 0. Was Essence what he needed to advance his own grade?
As if sensing his thought, a footnote glowed at the bottom of the vendor screen: EssencemaybeharvestedfrombeingsofGrade1orhigherupontheirdefeat,orfromcertainrarespiritualloci.EssencemaybeharvestedfrombeingsofGrade1orhigherupontheirdefeat,orfromcertainrarespiritualloci.
Defeat. Combat. He was a Grade 0 Alchemist, weaker than he'd been at eighteen in his first life. He couldn't defeat anything.
But perhaps he didn't need to.
His eyes went back to the first Path he'd seen—the moss and snails. A simple alchemical process. What would it make? He gathered the ingredients. Using the shop's mortar and pestle, he ground the moss and snails into a fine, greyish powder. No golden thread guided the process, but when he finished, a notification chimed.
CraftingSuccessful:Youhavecreated'UnidentifiedAsh(Grade0).'CraftingSuccessful:Youhavecreated'UnidentifiedAsh(Grade0).'
God−EyeAnalysisActivated.God−EyeAnalysisActivated.
Substance:InertAsh.Canbeusedasabaseforlow−gradecursepowdersoranutrientforfungalgrowths.Substance:InertAsh.Canbeusedasabaseforlow−gradecursepowdersoranutrientforfungalgrowths.
Useless. But the act of crafting had felt… different. More intentional. He looked at his own status, pulling it forward in his mind.
Name: Leo
Grade: Mortal Fragment (0)
Class: [Alchemist - Locked]
Abilities: God-Eye (Level 1)
Essence: 0
His class was locked. Of course. He hadn't undergone the official System Ceremony at the Guild yet. That was weeks away. In his first life, that ceremony had branded him with the [Alchemist] class, setting his path. Now, the word Locked felt like a promise. A choice.
He had time. And he had the God-Eye.
He spent the remaining hour meticulously cataloguing the stockroom with his new sight. He found two more faint Paths: one suggesting a specific distillation of feverfew that would yield a superior potion, another pointing to a mislabeled jar of "sulfur" that actually contained [Emberstone Dust], a slightly volatile magical component.
Knowledge. That was his currency now. Not strength, not yet.
When Grimes's heavy footsteps signalled the end of his time, Leo carefully replaced the flagstone, hiding the secret basin and its otherworldly vendor. He left the stockroom, the Unidentified Ash in his pocket.
Grimes stood in the doorway, his beady eyes searching Leo's face for signs of theft or mischief. The man's [Fear of Exposure] string was still taut, thrumming with nervous energy.
"Satisfied?" Grimes sneered, trying to reclaim some dominance.
Leo met his gaze, and with a conscious effort of will, he focused on that glowing green string of fear. He imagined pulling it.
"Perfectly, Master Grimes," Leo said, his voice low. "I look forward to tomorrow's… studies."
A visible shudder ran through the apothecary. He muttered something and turned away, unable to hold the gaze.
Leo climbed the stairs to his attic, the single silver coin Grimes had advanced him clutched in his hand. It wasn't much. But he had a contract, a hidden vendor menu, and a system that showed him the levers of the world.
He lay on his straw mattress, staring at the water-stained ceiling. The [Hero] and his party were out there somewhere, still young, still believing in their destined glory. Elara, the [Swordsman], the [Priest]—they were not yet legends. They were children, like him.
But he saw their sins before they'd even committed them. He knew the price of their loyalty.
And he would make them pay it, in full. The game had begun.