"I would like some tea. I would like some tea. I would like some tea," Bruno repeated incessantly each time he emerged from his room in the dead of night. Dark circles began forming around his eyes, mirroring the growing suspicion on the maid's part as the days passed.

On one occasion, she deviated from her usual route and stealthily crept up behind the boy, curious to discover what he was up to when she was meant to be absent. However, the boy had anticipated such a move and occupied her chair each night, patiently awaiting her return with the drink.

With the cup in hand, he would embark on a race against time within his modest alchemical laboratory. Not only was Billy's ship expected to be en route, but Mamun's imminent return loomed inevitably.

As the days flew by, excitement ignited within the boy's mind, fueled by the progress he was making. He was aware that this very excitement could flourish, steering his thoughts in a perilous direction and triggering the activation of the collar, which would cost him his life. To avert such a dreadful outcome, he commenced reciting the old rhyme Ernesto had taught him long ago when he was but a young child.

"The young miner Frank, swung his pickaxe, clang, clang, clang. The little boy, all he wanted was to destroy! The rock that was on his path, all that to avoid the father's wrath. Because you know, he actually was the one to block the path down below. He sealed the family mine by himself, oh that young rascal, naughty elf. When Papa found out, he got angry, no doubt. He scolded the young Frank, and the boy standing right there just shrunk. The father fixed the problem as the parents do, so kids remember to never try to hide the truth," Bruno would repeat tirelessly, keeping his mind occupied.

It worked like a charm, diverting unwanted thoughts and replacing them with memories from his early childhood.

However, his peculiar behavior drew suspicion from those observing him, and soon Bruno noticed traces of the mischievous girls spying on his work within the laboratory. This only brought a smile to his face, for he had expected it and cunningly disguised his experiments in a manner that only someone with alchemical knowledge rivaling his own could discern their true purpose.

The sole individual in the entire estate possessing such knowledge was Mamun, otherwise, the resource would be put to work on the treatment process. Yet, the notes bestowed upon the young alchemist so long ago, by the archmage, contained no evidence of such a person’s involvement. All of this cemented the boy's unwavering certainty and emboldened him to pursue his newfound goal.

Soon the maid, who kept a watchful eye on Bruno throughout the night, began preparing the tea in advance, convinced that she had somehow seen through his intentions and sought to thwart the young alchemist's plans with this alteration. However, she was mistaken, and he did not grant her even the slightest shred of satisfaction, completely disregarding the change.

Eventually, everything was in readiness, and the only remaining task was to employ the prepared resources.

Just like countless nights before, Bruno emerged from his bed in the dead of night. The maid was there, faithfully waiting for him. As soon as he revealed himself, she greeted him with a warm smile.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, adhering to their usual routine.

"Yes," he replied, playing his part.

With that response, she set aside her knitting and reached for the teapot and cup resting on a tray on the floor. She poured the brew, then handed it to the boy. As always, he didn't drink it right away but carried it with him to his workspace, placing it carefully on the table. Pausing for a moment, he listened intently, ensuring she didn't harbor any immediate notions of spying on him.

Satisfied with the complete absence of sound, he proceeded, gathering everything he needed for the task at hand—a pouch filled with a vibrant yellow powder. The fine consistency of the substance resembled flour, and the bag held an ample supply. Securing it to his waist, he retrieved a few hidden lockpicks from among the ingredients, stowing them in his pocket. With his preparations concluded, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the room, ensuring that the angle was correct and that his body concealed the pouch.

The maid's full attention immediately shifted toward him.

"I'm in need of some ingredients," he explained, offering her a smile as he turned his head to face her. "Would you mind if I asked for a little help? I'm uncertain if I have what I need here, but I'm certain it's not in my laboratory."

She responded with a smile, setting aside her knitting once again, rising from her chair, and moving toward him. Her caution didn't escape Bruno's notice; in fact, he had anticipated it.

All he required was for her to take a few steps closer, and she obliged. However, upon realizing that he hadn't budged, she instinctively took a step back. But Bruno was quicker. He lunged forward, scooping up a handful of the powder from the pouch and flinging it toward the maid.

She gasped, her hands flying to cover her face, but it was a futile reaction, as she already inhaled enough. Almost instantly, she succumbed to unconsciousness, and Bruno caught her just in time, preventing her limp body from crashing onto the unforgiving floor.

Gently laying her down on the cold stone, he swiftly distanced himself from the scene of the incident. Finally, he released the breath he had been holding since the moment he grasped that handful of special sand.

One of many tricks he had prepared for this very special night. The night of freedom.

With no time to waste, he hastened toward one of the doors. The particular one, which led to the old man's subterranean office.