The morning was pleasant and warm, signaling the gradual conclusion of the dry season. However, in this proximity to the ocean, the air carried a slight chill compared to the inland regions. Adding to the ambiance, the garden was regularly watered by diligent maids, tending to the flourishing estate.

Running at a more leisurely pace, the trio embarked on their journey. Bruno swiftly closed the gap between himself and Mamadou, stealing a quick glance at the man, who remained silent.

"I need a favor," the young alchemist whispered, keeping his voice low even though they were alone.

"Have you found a way to escape?" the former assassin responded, his hushed words melding seamlessly with his breath.

"No, I've encountered a problem... Actually, several problems. I need to learn something to address one of these issues, and I require your assistance," the boy explained.

"What do you need?" Mamadou inquired.

"I need some lockpicks and small padlocks. The smaller, the better. I have to conceal them," Bruno replied.

"Are you certain you can accomplish that? If you must hide them, ensure you have a good hiding spot. Otherwise, you may come to regret possessing them in the first place," the man cautioned.

"I have numerous secure spots. I can conceal them within bags of various ingredients. The underground is teeming with possibilities. No one will ever discover them," Bruno assured him.

Once again, the trainer briefly turned his gaze toward the boy.

"I will bring them for you tomorrow," he promised. Then, speaking louder, he added, "If you can keep up with my pace, I believe it's time to pick up the speed."

With those words, Mamadou increased his pace, compelling the two boys to hasten their steps in order to keep up and avoid falling behind.

Seated within a small room, the sole illumination emanated from a lonely crystal fixed to the wall behind him, Bruno was frustrated. The source of his annoyance was Mamun, who currently dwelled upon a particular pattern of magical energy flow explaining every detail of it he could possibly speak about.

The young alchemist had gradually realized that the old man meticulously selected the subjects of his teachings, diverting Bruno away from the knowledge necessary to access the enigmatic laboratory concealed behind a weighty door. Nonetheless, he dutifully took notes, intending to scrutinize them later, as enduring the lecture necessitated redirecting his thoughts elsewhere.

Suddenly, his unconscious mind got urged to drop the fantasy and return to reality from a mental journey, drawing attention back to the classroom. It was something the archmage had mentioned—a pattern briefly referenced. It was meant to serve as a bridge to the concepts employed in the magical discipline of illusion. Bruno had seen it before, and in an instant, the memory resurfaced—a tiny tattoo concealed at Hallel's hairline.

For the remainder of the lesson, that singular image consumed the boy's thoughts, lingering even as he ventured into his makeshift laboratory next door. The space had become densely packed with ingredients, reaching a point where no more could fit, requiring some items to be stored in the corridor outside. Each component was essential for the creation of the elixirs crucial to his ongoing treatment.

He commenced his work, utilizing a brief respite to retrieve a padlock hidden within a pouch of crimson mineral powder, along with a lockpick from a separate spot. With these tools in hand, he set about attempting to unlock the mechanism. Over the days, his skills sharpened to the point where a few measured breaths rendered the item useless—he had memorized its workings.

Then, he resumed his interrupted work with great efficiency, speed, and an uncanny ability to evade detection by both Mamun and his spies. This pattern persisted for several hours until the day waned and the time for sleep approached. Yet, that troubling symbol he had learned about earlier still haunted his mind.

‘What is he doing to that poor girl?’ Bruno found himself repeatedly asking. He recognized it as a crucial piece of the puzzle—one that could potentially unlock the enigma of the old man. The information held immense value, almost equal to the young alchemist's own life, but what was even more important, it was annoying. Like a fly that wouldn’t leave him alone, sitting over and over on his skin, despite a lot of effort put into chasing it away.

Soon the work for the day was done, and Bruno cleaned up after, checking if all the alchemical processes came to an end, making it safe to leave the laboratory.

Ensuring that every lockpick and padlock was securely hidden, he exited the room, stepping into the corridor. Passing by crates brimming with ingredients, he remained lost in contemplation until his gaze fixed upon the door ahead. It was Mamun's room—the possibility of finding answers beckoned. He took a chance, feeling he had little to lose.

Drawing nearer, he knocked on the door, but there was no response. Encouraged, he turned the handle, and the door swung open, revealing the chamber beyond. Familiar sights greeted him— the chandelier adorned with glistening crystals, suspended from the ceiling on a short chain, and a rug that terminated just shy of the weighty desk, strewn with papers. Behind the desk sat a startled Mamun, and beyond him, a massive portrait adorned the wall—an almost flawless painting of Princess Hallel.

"I'm busy right now," the old man stated. "If you've completed your work, retire for the night."

The archmage returned to his writing, albeit briefly, since Bruno remained rooted in place, capturing his attention once more.

"I have a question that cannot wait," the boy declared. "It has plagued me throughout the entire day, and I won't find peace unless I get an answer. That is all I ask for."

Mamun let out a heavy sigh.

"Very well... Come inside and pose your question," he relented, setting aside the quill he had been using and reclining in his chair.

With a determined stride, Bruno stepped forward and closed the door behind him.