Ezra returned to the Computing Center and headed straight for X's office.
X: Oh—it's you, you're back.
At that moment, X was busy trying to extract a gold tooth from a skull.
Focused as he was on the task at hand, he didn't bother to look up, but he didn't forget to ask.
X: Is my little contraption still doing the job?
Ezra: Perfectly! It's worked better than any slingshot I've used before. It didn't hurt any animals, but I managed to scare them away. It's really come in handy.
X: It's my pleasure, Director.
X: ...Hyah!
The gold tooth was finally dislodged and shot up high into the air.
Then it came down, slow and steady, landing in X's palm.
X: There, now I can actually focus and listen to what you have to say.
X: Hmm? What's this...
Ezra: I stumbled upon this Dryas octopetala ... er, white dryad on a cliff behind a beasts' den.
Ezra: It's not the typical season for Dryas octopetala to bloom, so I only spotted this one. To make sure it doesn't wither, I placed it along with its surrounding vegetation in my foraging box.
Ezra: Though when it was first placed in the box, it did show signs of withering.
Ezra: I was taken aback at first, but then I quickly realized I could solve the problem...
The gold tooth fell into a tin can, along with the gold bead, a die, and some crumpled paper.
X: It's beautiful, just as I imagined.
Ezra: You like it? Great!
Ezra: Please accept it as a gift, Mr. X.
X: ... For me?
X paused, silently pointing to himself with a questioning expression.
X: ...You're giving me the flower?
Ezra: Yes, I thought I might give it to you.
X: But what about your exhibition? The Dryas octopetala would make for a fantastic addition.
X: You climbed the mountain to find these plants, to present them in your exhibition—right?
Ezra: That's right, my task is to collect exotic plants from the mountain.
Ezra: But I picked the white dryads for you ...
Ezra: You generously helped me solve my problem, and this is my way of thanking you.
Ezra nodded, then nodded again.
Ezra: Of course, you could also give it to that kid you know—the one who's so fond of these flowers.
Ezra: I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see this flower; it might only be a small part of my exhibition, but for him, it'll mean a lot more.
X: ......
The handful of pure white flowers held in the child's hands were lifted up high.
He looked devout and sincere, almost like an angel. He just needed a white robe and a trumpet to complete the image.
X: Ezra, do you know what white dryads symbolize in the East?
Ezra: Symbolize?
Ezra: I've ever heard them referred to as the "flower of warmth and kindness"... is there another meaning behind them?
X: In the East, Dryas octopetala is associated with "health" and "longevity" because of their resilience in harsh environments and prolonged blooming seasons.
X: Among the arcanists who live near the mountains, there's a custom of braiding White Dryads into children's hair to ensure happiness and a long life.
X: ......
X reached out and took the Dryas octopetala from Ezra's hand.
X: I met that kid back in the orphanage.
X: I was 11 at the time, and he was 9.
Ezra: Oh... so it goes back to your past, from those days...
X: Now, I'm 16.
X: And ... He didn't get to be 10.
X: I have no need for this flower.
Mesmer Jr.: Remember when you said you wouldn't turn down his gift if you were in my shoes?
X: Our situation's a bit different. He's a good kid, I'll give you that. At first, I was testing him, but once I got to know him, I started to genuinely like him.
X: I want his exhibition to succeed, and honestly, I don't need that flower.
X glanced away toward the crowd gathering around the Dryas octopetala display.
X: See, a beauty like that flower deserves to be right here—under the spotlight, encased in that high-transparency glass. It'll wow everyone.
Mesmer Jr.: But your words probably hurt him.
X: ...I never meant to deceive him. But lying's easy, and I'm pretty well-versed in it.
X: But you know, I grew up in an orphanage, always surrounded by kids.
X: He is so young that I feel a pang of guilt looking into his eyes, yet mature enough to handle the truth.
Mesmer Jr.: ......
Mesmer Jr.: I would take that flower if I were you.
Mesmer Jr.: It's gorgeous, easy to care for, and it'd make both of you happy.
Mesmer Jr.: Plus, it could be a part of your complicated contraptions. Brewing Dryad tea with a dollop of butter beats regular tea any day.
X: Hey-hey! You can't expect such a kind-hearted lad to be so selfish, only focused on his research. I'm not that heartless of a scholar!
Medicine Pocket: Oh...
Medicine Pocket: Apparently I am.
Medicine Pocket: I heard you're heading to the snowy mountains. Got any room in your backpack?
The guest moved around as if it was a home from home, and the host didn't mind.
The door bounced off against the wall, still rattling as Medicine Pocket sank into the guest sofa.
Ezra: Sure, I'm leaving for the snowy mountains in twenty minutes. I could squeeze in an extra bag for you.
The young man flashed a grin as he packed, welcoming his friend officially.
Ezra: Welcome to my very own turf, Medicine Pocket.
Ezra: This is the first time we're meeting since I moved to HQ—I thought about saying hello earlier, but with the exhibition prep and handovers, I couldn't find the time.
Medicine Pocket: Don't sweat it. We're not the kind of phony friends who need to "catch up often" to stay close.
A hand popped up from behind the crest of the sofa, followed by a leg.
Medicine Pocket: I've got something more important than small talk.
Ezra: Sure thing, go ahead. I'm listening.
Medicine Pocket: I'm working on a project—top secret. You're the only one I'm telling, so keep it under wraps.
Medicine Pocket: I'm talking about human stamina supplements, sort of like "Picrasma Candy" for humans.
Medicine Pocket: Right now, we've hit a snag in our sourcing.
Medicine Pocket: And you, my friend ...
Now an excited head popped out from the sofa's edge.
Medicine Pocket: Your snowy mountain trip could be a big help.
Medicine Pocket: Remember why I went to Australia?
Ezra: Of course, I was the one who told you to head to the Croc n' Roll bookstore to hunt down a fragment of the Potion Analysis Handbook.
Medicine Pocket: Great memory. Keep working that brain; it's good for avoiding dementia—
Medicine Pocket: I've been studying those fragments since I got back from Australia, and I managed to recover the formula for one of the potions.
Ezra: The first one? Or the one about mushrooms on page twenty-three—
Medicine Pocket: Neither, it's right at the end. The page is a mess, but it contains a recipe for "Bone-melting Sacramental Wine" given by the priests.
Medicine Pocket: Those who drink it at night, with eyes shining like stars, struggle to hold it down, vomiting until they're nothing more than bones.
Medicine Pocket: But those who drink it during the day, with fingertips glowing and hot, can walk for miles on end and gain boundless strength.
Ezra: So... you figure the "night people" are arcanists, and the "day people" are regular folks?
Ezra: Hmm, is this... a restorative potion crafted specifically for humans?
Medicine Pocket: It looks like it, especially if you consider the local culture and the history of arcanism. The moon, night, tides—all that "yin" stuff usually associated with emotions, inspiration, and omens, which are definitely part of the Arcanists.
Medicine Pocket: And in contrast, the sun and daylight lean towards "yang," representing that which is guided by light, righteousness, reason.
Medicine Pocket: Although sun worship is present in arcane cultures, at times, it's used to describe regular folks when contrasted with the moon.
Ezra: But if this potion really is toxic to arcanists or whoever else, we have to tread carefully.
Ezra mulled it over for a few seconds.
Ezra: That's just a sensible guess; we'll need solid proof.
Medicine Pocket: Good, the spirit of scientific inquiry. I like it.
Medicine Pocket rolled off the beanbag sofa, lying on the floor. With a push from their legs, they sat up.
They pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from their pocket, which looked like a page from a book.
Medicine Pocket: That's why I came to you and why I think I'm onto something.
Ezra: Is this Pinguicula alpina?
Alpine butterwort every potion maker knows it; far from just your regular flower or herb.
Ezra: So it's needed for the formula you recovered?
Medicine Pocket: Yes! That's right.
Medicine Pocket: The legendary ingredient, untouchable by arcanists, is a most elusive plant, found on the highest peaks of the Alps.
Ezra: ...Huh.
Ezra: Certainly, if the recipe includes Pinguicula alpina, that explains the potion's restorative effects.
Ezra: Almost all arcanists react badly to it due to neuron secretions...
Ezra: Common symptoms include itchy skin, vomiting, and phantom pains that feel like "breaking bones."
Medicine Pocket: I get what you're saying.
Ezra: You... need me to pick some Pinguicula alpina for you since I'm human and won't keel over?
Medicine Pocket: Bingo！
Medicine Pocket: Of course, there are other reasons, like only your exhibition authorization can bypass safety protocols to get it to my lab pronto...
Ezra: My... Exhibition authorization?
Medicine Pocket: Forget it; there's nothing to worry about!
Medicine Pocket: You're just helping me out, okay? So when those old farts come asking questions, you're in the clear.
Ezra: ...Is that something I should worry about?
Medicine Pocket: Oh, Ezra!
The young "mad" scientist stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from their thighs, warmly embracing Ezra.
The kid wobbled into the hug before finding himself pushed toward the door.
Medicine Pocket: I'll handle everything, alright?
Medicine Pocket: Just grab that darn grass—pluck it, stuff it in a box, and bring it to me!
