Apparently self-destructing and having an existential crisis was mentally taxing.
Who would've thought? Definitely not me, Calvin grumbled sarcastically.
He paused, flipping through one of the books Dalia had found on brewing poison, before letting out a weary sigh. Per usual, Dalia had been a great help when he needed books from Kieran's father's study, she hadn't questioned why he required a book on poison, nor had she mentioned the clear aftermath portrayed on his face indicating that something had clearly happened at school. She just nodded before leaving and then eventually returned with a hot cup of tea and a book.
Why is she so compliant?
Covering his eyes with his hands, he sighed again, mind wandering back to what had happened in the classroom.
Why had he lashed out like that? In hindsight it wasn't even worth it. All he had done was activate one of the many death flags and thus, set the story in motion.
At least that is what he believed.
Why else would Ailín follow him out of the classroom? None of it made any sense!
Screw it, at least I now have a reason for giving him a thank-you of some sort. Plus, I found out he likes apples. Cal looked down at the book and suppressed a tired laugh. The title of the current chapter was 'Malum Venenum', or 'Apple Venom' when translated out of Latin, which could be procured using apple cores. In otherworldly vocabulary, Calvin was trying to figure out how to extract cyanide from apple seeds.
How had he found this page?
Well, for the first time in his life, he was grateful that his parents had forced him through a Latin language course in hopes he would become a doctor. Even if it only aided him now, when he was about to commit a crime, it was still useful.
Conscious about time, Cal looked at the clock before shifting in his chair and directing his attention at the makeshift chemistry equipment he had found while searching through Kieran's closet.
Was it normal to keep the equipment hidden away in one of the bottom drawers of a closet?
Probably not.
But then again Cal didn't really care, all that mattered to him was that he now had the means of extracting the cyanide even if he had zero experience whatsoever.
What is the probability that I die while attempting to do this? He pondered while mindlessly flipping through the old pages of the chapter, before pushing the depressing thought aside. Trying to remain positive, he decided, worst case I no longer have to worry about a gruesome death and can just get some sleep.
He paused, could that even be classified as positive?
Deciding it wasn't worth the worry he pushed the thought away, it was a positive for him.
All he had to do for now was extract the poison while also preparing the antidote, which he would start with due to moral reasoning.
While he was willing to commit a crime, he wasn't willing to commit a murder.
According to the book, the effects of Malum Venenum could be cured with a remedy made by magic. All one had to do was condense mana within their palm, while occasionally threading in some energy from their own body. It was a difficult and dangerous process, but somehow he managed to finish within two hours.
Cal smiled, thankfully math can simplify any problem when given enough thought.
He had translated some of the steps into mathematical formulas, allowing his movements and actions to be as precise as they could be given his inexperience. He had also calculated the standard error, assessing to what extent he could mess up without invalidating the results.
Proudly looking at the two miracle beads he held within his hand, he placed them into a vial before securely sealing it shut with a cloth and thread.
Antidote, check, now onto the actual poison.
Turning to the book and his lab equipment, his brow furrowed in concentration. Time was ticking, and he had to finish the extraction before morning. He had gathered the apple seeds, set up the ceramic dish, and positioned the structure over the desk.
Now all he had to do was hold his palm under the dish and create a flame within it.
Easy, right?
No.
Creating the flame was anything but easy.
Thank goodness, we learnt about this thoroughly yesterday before I-, Cal wanted a better term for it, before my overreaction? No, it was totally valid, then before the incident?
That felt better.
We learnt this before the incident.
Concentrating on the flame was difficult, especially when his chest contracted ever so slightly with every second that passed trying to maintain it.
He squinted down at the book, what was the temperature again?
Finding the correct passage, he muttered, "Ah, right, exactly two-hundred degrees Celsius."
Then he paused, wait, Celsius?
Was the author of 'Taming Him' european?
Extinguishing the flame within his palm he tried thinking of the correct conversion between Celsius and Fahrenheit. The topic was so stupid that he never bothered remembering it.
At least it gives me an excuse to do some easy math.
Finally recalling it, he let out a tired sigh, right, two hundred degrees Celsius times one point eight, plus thirty-two. So, three hundred ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit.
Now the question was, how would he maintain a constant temperature without a measuring device?
Wait, what if Kieran has a thermometer lying around?
If the guy kept random flasks and chemistry equipment in his closet, he surely also kept some sort of measuring device somewhere, right?
It only took a few seconds of rummaging through the drawers of the desk, before Calvin loudly exclaimed, "AHA!"
He had found one! Sure, it looked outdated, but it probably worked just fine.
He was just about to get back to work when a knock resounded against his door, "Young Master? Is everything alright?"
Uh-oh.
Dalia had heard him, like always.
Clearing his throat, Calvin responded, "Yeah, sorry. There was a-, a bug, in my room? And I finally caught it."
"But it is so windy today," Dalia pondered out loud.
Cal was left speechless for a moment. Despite her status as a maid, Dalia was a bit too perceptive. "Uhm," Cal stammered, "it has been annoying me since yesterday, so there is that."
"I see." Dalia stated. "Well, call on me if you need anything, Young Master."
Calvin suppressed a sigh of relief, "Yes, of course, thank-."
He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. Drat.
Dalia ignored it, though a smile could be heard when she next spoke, "That is why I am here. Have a pleasant night, Young Master."
Calvin remained silent.
It took everything he had to not return the sentiment, but he had already made one mistake and couldn't make another. It was surprising she hadn't noticed anything off about him yet.
Or had she?
Either way, the behavior of the other maids hadn't changed, so even if she had told someone, there wasn't a direct consequence for him.
The other servants still treated him with the same respect clouded by fear that he was used to. It probably helped that he never talked to them either.
Though it was the only aspect of his behavior he managed to control, it was the most vital one.
Don't speak unless directly spoken to.
It was a habit he had developed in his childhood since his parents had favored obedience over anything else.
It is especially easy to pretend I am not being spoken to since they don't even look up when talking to me, Cal laughed helplessly.
Redirecting his attention to Dalia's receding footsteps, he released a relieved breath.
Thank goodness she hadn't burst inside like a week and a half ago, when he had seen Kieran's face reflected in the mirror instead of his own.
Next cover up story isn't allowed to contain a bug though, he thought sarcastically, third time it will be suspicious.
Returning to his task at hand, Calvin rekindled the mana flame beneath the dish containing the apple seeds, before holding the tiny, worn-out thermometer over it. His chest continued to ache, but he ignored it, trying to only focus on the flame and the temperature being shown by the thermometer.
Wow these nerves are really getting to me, he cursed as a bead of sweat ran down his temple, why the hell is this so difficult?
Keeping his focus on the pull of the flame and the thermometer, he watched as the indicator slowly rose until the temperature was correct. The process was tedious, especially when continuously checking whether the number he remembered was actually the one written down.
Heat the seeds to exactly three-hundred ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit, he reminded himself, glancing at the meager flame burning within his palm, struggling to keep it steady.
Stupid chemistry, or alchemy, or whatever the fuck this is.
The time it took to reach the temperature wasn't long, but to Calvin it felt like ages. He felt like a fish out of water, the different alchemical terms blurring together and making his head spin.
I hate this.
However, despite his annoyance, he pressed on.
In a sense the experience was quite interesting. As the heat increased, the seeds began releasing vapors, beads of moisture forming on the ceramic dish's surface. According to the book, this indicated the breakdown of compounds within the seeds.
This is going better than expected.
The realization made him happy, yet remembering the next step, his confidence wavered. The text had stressed the importance of accurate timing.
Shifting his entire focus on the vapor, he recalled the instructions. I need to condense the vapor for precisely thirty minutes.
Paranoid that he might mess up the timeframe, Cal checked the clock.
Three thirty-six in the morning.
The time alone told him he would regret life choices in the morning.
How lovely.
Then, he positioned a miniature glass funnel with a narrow tip to guide the condensed vapor into the waiting vial. Minutes ticked by slowly as Cal focused on his task, making sure the flame burned at a steady temperature, while also checking the clock every few seconds to make sure he hadn't missed the end of the given timeframe.
Each second felt like an eternity, especially when checking the clock so often, and he couldn't shake the nagging doubt that he was missing some critical detail.
The time it took did leave him wondering why Kieran had hidden away the equipment in his closet. 'Taming Him' hadn't mentioned anything about Kieran being interested in alchemy. Then again, as the antagonist of a fictional novel, his back story hadn't really been explored.
This really is taking ages. Who knew thirty minutes could be so long?
Finally, when the clock reached four o' six, he put out the flame and removed the vial from the experimental construct. His hands trembled as he sealed it tightly, anxiety clawing at him. He had followed the instructions to the best of his ability, but his lack of knowledge left him feeling uncertain.
What if this doesn't work?
What if I have to fight tomorrow?
He didn't know what he would do if any situation other than the one he prepared for came to pass. But then again, it was too late to worry about it. Morning had come quicker than he had anticipated, especially since he hadn't been able to take any calculated shortcuts in fear of messing up the procedure.
But I finished, he reminded himself.
The duel was today, and all the preparations for his plan were complete.
It didn't matter that some of the preparations had come from an emotional outburst. All that mattered was that the very last thing he had to do was get an apple, carefully spread on a layer of poison, and then he would be fine.
Getting Ailín to eat it would be easy.
Right?