"Did you give her the magic potion?"
In the Viscount's House's subsidiary residence, the young man stood by the window, gazing at the receding Royal Bird Carriage, a low and puzzled tone in his voice.
Faced with the eldest son's questioning, the man merely chuckled.
"What, are you jealous? Because I didn't give you that one and only treasure bottle?"
He lifted his wine glass, gently swirling it, the deep red liquid creating slight ripples in the glass.
This father had never been one to consider his children's feelings, and the young man who had long grown accustomed to this responded calmly:
"Father, you cannot be unaware of the potion's danger, and you should know she is not a particularly careful person." The emerald eyes, hereditary, narrowed slightly, carrying a hint of dissatisfaction and concern.
The completed Magic Origin Secret Medicine, it was undoubtedly a magnificent work.
Magnificent, yet dangerous.
"Even though you taught me the art of potion-making, with all my current abilities, I cannot replicate the potion in your hands."
With his "graduation project", he had expended all efforts to obliterate a mid-level Arcane Surge, even gathering all the Magic Stone Essence in one place, its magic power was less than one-hundredth of that bottle.
It is hard to imagine how much effort and how many lives this person sacrificed to refine that secret potion back then.
[Potion Maker (Unclear identification of status and distance, below 20 is deceased, above 70 is a foreigner)]
"So?" The man's voice remained nonchalant, as if what the young man said was of little consequence.
"You must understand, she will definitely use that potion. Perhaps facing a never-ending horde of goblins, or some evil and formidable foe, she won't think too much, but just rely on the potion as a trump card."
The young man's stance did not falter, calmly presenting his viewpoint.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
The father's gaze held a smile, carelessly shaking the glass in his hand. Check latest chapters at NovelHub(.)net
"It's because your sister can make full use of it that I gave it to her. After all, keeping it with me is just a waste."
"...Do I have to spell it out so clearly?"
The young man finally couldn't help but furrow his brow, directly meeting the gaze of the man who shared his eye color.
"Father, though your strength is indeed formidable, you are far from the top tier in the Kingdom. You are just a Pantheon Mage, just a Military Merit Viscount, holding no real power position in the Mage Association, nor do you have your own fief or army."
The father remained silent, his wine glass still swaying gently, eyelids slightly drooped, as if indicating for the eldest son to continue speaking.
"If she loses control after using that potion, affecting the nearby cities, we will undoubtedly be implicated—"
The brother slightly raised his voice, as if describing an inevitable future.
"It wouldn't even be mere implication; we wouldn't even have the chance to defend or face judgment, but be sent directly to the guillotine!"
The father placed the wine glass on the table with a crisp click.
For the first time, he raised his eyelids, the smile on his face disappearing.
The two expressionless men stared at each other in silence, the atmosphere in the room filled with a tension that would make a hero tremble.
"Does any of this matter?"
Finally, the father's calm words broke the silence.
Ignoring the eldest son's confusion, he slowly surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping over everything within it.
Even though this was just a seldom-used subsidiary residence, the interior decorations still reflected the Viscount's House's status.
"Wealth, status, noble title, reputation... are these things important to you?"
"Are you suggesting I should abandon these external possessions?"
Hearing his son's question, the father shook his head, his tone remaining calm.
"In fact, when your mother first had you switch to study-focused Arcanist, I disagreed—because doing so, all your knowledge would be based on humankind's civilization.
"Compared to those commoners in the Capital, you are indeed a talented being, one might say acceptable. So, even under my pressure, you cultivated an awareness of belonging to the strong."
"But, my son," the father's voice subtly deepened, "you never considered losing everything. Never imagined that even the Kingdom would face a day of collapse."
The brother was rendered speechless.
"Father, are we discussing which future possibility is greater?"
"What a hassle," the father clicked his tongue lightly, "that's precisely why I disagreed with your study direction. You always imagine the worst future according to your logic—a worst future you can solve and avoid."
His tone carried a faint trace of sarcasm, yet the emerald eyes were as deep as an ancient well: "Hasn't losing to your sister taught you a lesson yet?"
The young man's brows furrowed tightly, his father's words, though not as harsh as before, struck his heart like a heavy hammer.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the turbulence within, and attentively listened to his father's words.
The father leaned back against the chair, his emerald eyes seemed to look at his son, yet also appeared to be gazing at some distant place.
"Destiny is fickle, even that woman cannot grasp all futures. And the waves of upheaval often transcend your worst imagination.
"But, being accustomed to having everything under control and planned, perhaps now you fail to comprehend that feeling.