A Crown of Shadows and Starlight

Chapter 3

“Qianyu, what is it?”

Meilin turned around to see a male apprentice about her age.

This apprentice, Qianyu, had joined the academy a year later than Meilin, but he had decent aptitude. The two shared a good relationship. It was said that in just a few months, he would successfully engrave his eighth Willpower Rune and become an official apprentice.

“You know, I want to become a potion master in the future, but my fundamental knowledge of potion ingredients is still lacking. I was hoping you could help me with that,” Qianyu said, somewhat embarrassed.

“No problem. The usual arrangement—one session per lesson, lasting for a month. As for the time… let’s do it after dinner. You know, I have other things to do during the day,” Meilin said after a brief moment of thought.

“Thank you! Here’s your payment.”

A smile immediately spread across Qianyu’s face as he handed a magic stone to Meilin.

“Heh, then I won’t be polite…”

Meilin accepted the magic stone, her mind stirring slightly, though her expression remained unchanged. She tucked it away and waved goodbye to Qianyu.

Magic stones were the primary currency among wizards, also serving as materials for experiments and magical recovery. Within the academy, most transactions required magic stones—whether for attending lectures, purchasing experimental materials, or borrowing alchemical texts.

For unofficial apprentices, the monthly allowance was typically just one magic stone, barely enough for basic sustenance. To meet other needs, one had to find alternative ways to earn. Even official apprentices had to frequently take on academy-issued tasks to sustain their expenses.

Meilin had her own methods of earning magic stones. The first was through her work—though it wasn’t a well-regarded job, she earned some herbs each month as payment. With her solid foundation in basic alchemy, she could process these herbs and sell them at a higher price to potion makers.

Her second source of income came from her warrior skills—as a Level-3 Warrior, she could act as a bodyguard for apprentices on missions or go hunting, exchanging prey for payment.

Her third source of income was tutoring. Though she only taught basic public courses, her explanations were far more detailed than the official instructors, and her fees were reasonable. The academy didn’t interfere with such private lessons, and higher-level official apprentices didn’t bother with such small-scale earnings.

⸻

Turning the corner of the staircase, Meilin glanced around to ensure no one was watching. She pulled out a small piece of parchment from her pocket, unfolded it, and after a brief look, her expression darkened.

After a moment of contemplation, she walked outside, found a secluded spot, and tore the parchment into shreds. Then, retrieving a tiny bottle from her pocket, she dripped a few drops of dark green liquid onto the paper scraps.

A faint hissing sound filled the air. The scraps not only disintegrated completely, but the ground beneath them corroded, leaving a small hole several inches deep. A strong acidic odor spread through the air.

This way, even most restoration spells wouldn’t be able to recover the contents of the message, ensuring the safety of the sender.

After adjusting her emotions, Meilin made her way toward the academy’s logistics department.

According to academy regulations, the first day of each month was when apprentices collected their allowances. Official apprentices had servants deliver their supplies, but those like Meilin had to collect them themselves.

When she arrived at the logistics office, dozens of unofficial wizard apprentices were already waiting anxiously—not for her, of course, but for the distribution to begin.

Meilin silently took her place at the back of the line. A few people glanced at her but refrained from mockery—after all, they were all unofficial apprentices. Until they successfully engraved their eighth Willpower Rune, their futures remained uncertain.

“Creak—”

The heavy doors emitted an ear-piercing sound as they slowly swung open.

A low voice echoed from inside:

“Line up properly. Enter in order. Anyone causing a disturbance will forfeit their monthly allowance!”

At this, the apprentices immediately fell silent, sealing their lips shut, fearful of provoking the staff inside.

There were only a few dozen people, so the process moved quickly. Meilin was the last to enter.

Behind the desk sat a short, elderly man, his chair raised high to give him a lofty appearance. Anyone unaware of his status might mistake him for the dean, but in truth, he was just a Level-1 Apprentice who had somehow secured this position.

In the wizarding world, aptitude and effort were crucial for progress, but external conditions—such as access to magic stones and potions—played a major role.

Especially potions. With sufficient auxiliary potions, progress in magic training sped up significantly, making them a shortcut—though not without cost. Overuse led to potion toxicity, necessitating detoxifying elixirs at regular intervals.

By academy regulations, unofficial apprentices received a monthly allowance of:

• 1 magic stone

• 2 vials of Basic Focus Potion

Magic stones, as previously mentioned, were essential for transactions. Focus potions, on the other hand, enhanced mental strength, aiding in the engraving of Willpower Runes.

“Here, take it,” the old man sneered as he slid a magic stone and two potion vials across the table toward her.

“Thank you, senior,” Meilin replied, but her eyelids twitched as she noticed something odd.

Inside the transparent vials, the liquid was a pale gray—these were failed potions.

Potion-making was an intricate and error-prone process. Even a master potion maker occasionally failed, producing either completely useless mixtures or potions with unremoved impurities, rendering them toxic.

These two Focus Potions were complete failures. If consumed, one wouldn’t need a reaper’s scythe—death would come swiftly enough.

Typically, lower-quality potions were given to unofficial apprentices, but never outright failures. Meilin instantly knew she was being targeted on purpose.

“Senior, did you make a mistake? These two potions are defective. How can anyone consume them?”

“And why wouldn’t they be usable?”

The old man’s triangular eyes glinted coldly as he sneered.

“Trash like you is just wasting resources anyway. You refuse to become a servant, don’t you? Maybe drinking these will fulfill your wish. Oh, but don’t say I never looked out for you—here, you can have them all.”

He pulled out a cloth sack, heavily placing it on the table. It was filled with failed potions.

“Thank you for your generosity, senior.”

To his surprise, Meilin remained calm, accepted the bag without hesitation, and turned to leave.

“Uh…”

The old man was dumbfounded.

This… wasn’t how the script was supposed to go!