Frustration gnawed at Bruno as the old man maintained his silence, a peculiar serenity adorning his face. Mamun's relaxed cheek muscles and slight smile only served to heighten the boy's curiosity and impatience. He observed every minor detail, committing them to memory while yearning for substantial answers.

"She was beautiful. So beautiful," Mamun eventually broke the silence, his voice tinged with a mix of longing and nostalgia. "I tried my best, but I couldn't resist staring at her, and she noticed. To my surprise, she seemed to revel in my adoration of her beauty," he continued, his words carrying a hint of melancholy. "My teacher, consumed by his own sense of superiority in knowledge and logic, remained oblivious to us. The old fool."

Nodding to his own words, Mamun shifted his focus back to Bruno, his eyes penetrating the young alchemist's soul.

"Even then, I knew she was the one destined to care for the kingdom, not her imbecilic brother. I had encountered him several times before, and it was evident that he possessed the intelligence of an empty bucket. All he cared about was the company of young women who served him. There was no depth to his character, and yet, he was to be announced as the next king. It was both a terrible and, in a twisted way, a blessing," Mamun recounted, his nods punctuating his words. Though Bruno paid little attention to the archmage's mannerisms, the display of emotions hinted at the significance of the tale being unraveled. Mamun's transparency was striking.

"With time, Arabel and I grew fond of each other. My sweet Arabel..." Mamun's voice softened, his gaze drifting into the distant past. "But another opportunity presented itself. A mage from Harothep was invited for a consultation with my teacher, the archmage. He took notice of me, and a few months after his departure, a letter arrived at the palace—an invitation for me to study among the finest, to become the next archmage of the kingdom," he paused, examining Bruno's face intently, as if in searching for a hidden truth within his expression.

Unwavering, the boy remained locked in curiosity, his attention fixated on the unfolding tale.

"You may not comprehend the weight of such an opportunity," Mamun continued, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and determination. "You don't refuse a letter from Harothep. But I was in love, and logic meant nothing to me. I yearned for us to be together, defying the odds stacked against us. I almost threw away this opportunity, but fate was relentless in guiding me to the desert. Javel, the fool, met his pathetic end while pursuing a servant girl he intended to violate. His neck snapped as he slipped on wet stairs," Mamun's expression turned bitter as he spoke, his face contorting with anger. „The kingdom needed a ruler, so instead of Javel, they found a husband for my Arabel...”

Furrowed eyebrows and tightly pressed lips spoke volumes, conveying a rage that surpassed words. Mamun's past resurfaced, stirring deep-seated emotions that required a moment's respite for him to regain control.

Bruno understood the weight of the moment, recognizing the delicate balance between extracting more information and potentially incurring the old man's anger. After a moment of careful calculation, he adjusted the mask on his face, aiming to convey empathy for the archmage's pain.

"Oh please, I know you don't care," Mamun almost snorted, effortlessly piercing through Bruno's facade.

The young alchemist swiftly discarded the mask, revealing his true intent.

"I've never been in love, so I simply can't comprehend. If I were in your position, I would follow the invitation letter," he shrugged nonchalantly.

„One day you will find a girl...” The old man seemed poised to utter a long sentence but abruptly halted, his countenance shifting once again, masking his emotions. "Let's return to the story," he interjected. "I traveled to Harothep. I immersed myself in diligent study, yet Arabel constantly occupied my thoughts. She married a fool who didn’t love her, but I refused to surrender. I persistently sought a way, experimenting and making partial breakthroughs, which earned me recognition from fellow masters of the craft. It took a mere thirty years," he chuckled, reveling in his own words. "That determination was my sole driving force, allowing me to endure. If you don't love your research, you'll perish out there, as there's little else to do but study."

His mind wandered briefly back through the memories, forcing a pause in his story, before snapping back to the present, returning with his gaze filled with anger as he glanced at the boy.

"When I returned here, my old master still clung to life, though confined to his bed. I finished him off with poison and claimed his position. But even before that, I visited my beloved Arabel. She was plagued by illness, lying on her deathbed. Witnessing her in such a state nearly shattered me. Despite her constant suffering, she found solace in our reunion. It was her husband who was responsible for her condition. That wretched, imbecilic fool," the archmage slammed his fist on the desk, his voice seething with contempt. "He was never deserving of the throne, and upon discovering his actions, I vowed to her that I would rectify her legacy. I would mend the kingdom that rightfully belonged to her."

"And is this what you're striving to accomplish? To fix the kingdom?" Bruno inquired, his tone blunt.

Maintaining a completely neutral expression, the young alchemist veiled his emotions, deeming it too risky to reveal any hint of his true sentiments.

"Yes, you see... Akhenaten was unable to father a child with Arabel, and in his foolishness, he forced her to be with other men, usually the servants, all in pursuit of securing an heir. Of course, everything was shrouded in utmost secrecy, and eventually, his plan succeeded. She gave birth to Smenkhkare, the current ruler, and father of Hallel and her siblings, as well as Natutkhamun, his brother. But neither of them carried Akhenaten's blood. Few are aware of this fact, but I am, and I wager that Smenkhkare knows it too," a triumphant smile materialized on Mamun's face. "She confessed everything to me on her deathbed. She revealed how that bastard allowed the servants to violate her. That's why she would always exact revenge upon them later."

As Mamun recounted the details, Bruno's mind sparked with comprehension, and the pieces of the puzzle aligned to form a complete picture.

"Then I told her about my research," Archmage divulged, "and explained that we could be together if she allowed me to transfer her mind to another body." Bruno's eyes widened with realization as he absorbed the gravity of Mamun's words.

With a mixture of anticipation and desperation, the old man continued, "She agreed, and I freed her from her confining cage. However, no suitable vessel presented itself for her essence, and so I resorted to trapping her within a crystal, tirelessly searching for the perfect candidate. Despite my efforts, no one fitting emerged, and her impatience grew, mirroring my own. Yet fate intervened when Hallel, born of Smenkhakare's seed, embodied the very essence of my beloved Arabel. We deliberated extensively but ultimately disagreed on utilizing her. Then, the dark truth of Natutkhamun's affection for Hallel came to light. He raped the little child and got executed for that by his brother, but the mind of the poor girl was broken."

"That's when you decided to step in and put Arabel into Hallel's body," Bruno interjected, breaking the monologue with a sharp insight. His words hung in the air, awaiting confirmation from Mamun.

With a deliberate motion, the old man nodded, acknowledging the young alchemist's astute observation. Bruno's gaze shifted to a grand painting adorning the chamber wall, a captivating portrait that seemed to exude a profound presence.

"And this portrait," the young alchemist pointed directly at the artwork, "It's Arabel, not Hallel."

Mamun's response was a simple affirmation, the weight of truth resonating through the air.

"I understand now... I think," Bruno cautiously expressed, attempting to grasp the intricate web of secrets and intentions.

The archmage emitted a derisive snort, dismissing the notion of true comprehension from the young mind before him.

"You don't understand anything," the old man retorted, his voice laced with a mix of disdain and superiority. "But you don't need to understand. You have your answer. I'm doing her a favor. I'm saving her and the kingdom. That is all you need to know. Now, leave."

Obeying the archmage's command, Bruno rose from his seat, bowing respectfully before turning to depart. But as he crossed the threshold of the chamber, he felt a sudden jolt of energy coursing through his collar, a tingling sensation that served as a chilling reminder. All due to the words the old man spoke.

"Oh, and don't ever talk to anybody about what you heard in this chamber," Mamun growled, his eyes flashing with an ominous glint. The archmage's warning echoed in the boy’s mind.

Resisting the impulse to rub his neck, Bruno swiftly made his way to his quarters. A whirlwind of thoughts consumed his mind, the weight of newfound knowledge pressing upon him. The night felt too short, insufficient to process the magnitude of what he had uncovered.

It was a gold mine of secrets, an intricately crafted puzzle that required careful unraveling. The young alchemist understood that the task ahead was arduous, but he was determined to dig deep and unearth the truth concealed within.