Ron was organizing some magic potion materials when he looked up at the sound of someone entering. "Gwyneth? Do you need anything?"
Gwyneth was surprised to find that this young man had somehow learned her name, despite their previous, unpleasant encounter.
"Apprentice Ron... no, Alchemist Ron." Gwyneth quickly corrected herself, her tone noticeably tense:
"I’ve come to deliver this workshop contract."
She carefully handed over the document, her gaze shifting between Ron and Trish, internally shocked by this surprising discovery.
The latest rising star of the School was surprisingly in such a close relationship with Apprentice Ron!
"Also," Gwyneth took a deep breath, a hint of apology appearing on her face:
"I want to apologize for my attitude a few days ago. I didn’t know your capabilities at the time and was somewhat offensive in my words..."
Ron took the contract, looked through it briefly, and then gave Gwyneth a slight smile:
"It’s okay, I understand. After all, it’s indeed rare for someone my age to be an alchemist."
"That’s no excuse." Gwyneth said sincerely, her gaze firming:
"As compensation, I’ve furnished your new workshop with a set of furniture. Although they’re made from ordinary materials without any extraordinary effects, they are practical and substantial items that I hope will be of help."
She retrieved a stack of meticulously drawn furniture designs and renovation plans from her bag and handed them to Ron.
Each drawing was marked with detailed dimensions and materials, clearly showing the effort she had put into it.
Ron was somewhat surprised as he looked at the drawings: "This... is too kind, Gwyneth. Isn’t this too much trouble for you?"
"Please, you must accept them," Gwyneth insisted, genuine apology in her eyes:
"I’ve already arranged with the merchants to have them delivered to your new workshop tomorrow morning. This is a token of my appreciation, and also the School’s welcome to a new alchemist."
Realizing that Gwyneth’s words were not empty flattery, Ron could only nod gratefully: "Then I won’t stand on ceremony. Thank you very much, Gwyneth."
Trish, watching everything unfold, had a knowing smile on her lips.
Having completed her task, Gwyneth tactfully took her leave.
Before leaving, she could not help but feel some sentiment: "It seems geniuses really do mingle in their own small circles..."
Watching Gwyneth depart, Ron half-closed the door and turned to Trish: "It seems I can move into my new workshop tomorrow."
"East District? That’s a prime location." The brown-haired girl raised an eyebrow: "Looks like Master Magnus values you quite highly."
Ron shrugged: "It might be Lady Allen’s doing. She seems to know Master Magnus from way back."
"Moving tomorrow?" Trish stood up, smoothing her long dress:
"Need any help? I could have Li Yue lend a hand; she’s quite strong."
"No need," Ron shook his head: "I don’t have much stuff. Andre has already agreed to help, so two people are enough."
"Alright then." Trish nodded and prepared to leave: "I have other things to attend to. I’ll visit your new workshop another day."
After seeing Trish off, Ron stood at the door, looking at the workshop contract in his hand, a surge of complex emotions welling up inside him.
Just a few months ago, he was an overlooked Candidate Apprentice facing the constant threat of death, struggling with every step.
Now, he had attained the status of a Professional Alchemist, was about to move into his own independent workshop, and had an expanding network of connections.
"The rules of this world are so simple yet cruel. As long as you display enough value, people will come to curry favor with you, even if you do nothing."
He looked at his Alchemist Badge on his chest, then glanced at the instruments and workshop contract on the table:
"Old wisdom holds true everywhere: ’In deep mountains, rich connections always exist.’
The morning light was faint, and thick fog wove through the branches of the Black Mist Jungle, enveloping the Candidate Apprentice Dormitory Area in a haze.
Andre walked on the mossy stone path towards Ron’s dormitory.
Today was the day to help his friend move, and his emotions were more complex than he had anticipated.
Initially, by his father’s side, he was merely the Thirteenth Prince of the Faruk Kingdom, without inheritance rights, having to endure the pressure from his siblings.
After arriving in the Black Mist Jungle, his situation had once been worse than when in the royal palace.
But then, three months ago, everything quietly changed.
"It’s laughable, in the end, I have to rely on someone I used to look down on..."
He muttered to himself, his fingers subconsciously rubbing the gray badge on his chest.
That was his servant’s proof, which Ron had applied for some time ago, linking it to his name.
Only with this could Andre be considered an internal member of the School and allowed to stay.
Servant... Even though Ron treated him as an equal friend, whenever he touched that special badge, he always felt a lump in his throat.
Immersed in his thoughts, a sudden rush of footsteps alerted Andre.
He looked up to see three disheveled figures stumbling toward him from the intersection ahead, their faces marked with fear and despair.
"Prince Andre! Your Highness!"
The voice was sharp and trembling, causing Andre to frown—it was Byron Leman, once the eldest son of a border count in his father’s court, who had come to the Black Mist Jungle with him.