I've often thought, "What will I say to my children one day. Did I do something special? Did I live the right way?"

How can I convey that to them, if I did?

Those kinds of thoughts started right after I graduated from the academy six years ago. It might sound strange that someone barely twenty at the time would think so farsightedly. Laughable now, since I've never had the chance to even marry much less have to worry about children.

Still I, even after my parents pulled together all their savings on me, the only child gifted with a certain talent, a 'blessing' of the knowledge of [Herbalism], wonder what I would say if given the chance. Maybe how I left the Empire's academy with extraordinary marks in the arts of compounding? When I returned to my hometown victorious and shining with a future brighter than the sun above our heads? Or how I opened my first shop in town with medicines that could make the lives of those I grew up with that much better. The story of a young boy's fantasy that, some way or another, became reality.

I would even go as far as to say how I was personally invited to the White Star Tower, direct by messenger sent from the tower's director himself, would make for a unparalleled tale. Or so I thought at the time. Now, the only thing I could say to those hypothetical youngsters would be that I felt very... very... desperate.

Now, as someone from the third floor, I know how desperate people can feel when faced with something beyond their mental limits. One can chatter and stall for as much time as possible, others simply drop, tuck, and roll out with all the haste they can muster. I can remember quite a few times where I've considered those options, especially on the fifth floor and up, to the point where the stress compounded into many a sleepless night. Knowing all that, it's hard to imagine a reason why we do the things we do as alchemists, just to further innovation...

I think the Psychology and Mental Afflictions lab on the fourth found a name for this desperation... the Flight or Fight response, I believe? Two actions that I, unfortunately, couldn't act upon. Trapped as I was in never-ending staircases and my work on the brain-child of a thesis I barely remember from my academy days. And, coincidentally, 'Him'.

"Lord Tenth will be waiting for you in the study, Mr. Ganz. With my duty done, I bid you a good day."

Now, when those two things, fighting and flying, are bottled up without use, well, the experience is needless to say... harrowing.

"Good, she says," It was hard to stifle the despairing moan that came with that statement, "at least don't leave me alone with him."

Just bear with it. It's not as though he isn't human like the rest of us. It's just... difficult, to call him human.

Where the woman left me terribly stranded was to the peak of this White Tower. There, an entire sublevel is reserved for one and only one man, that being the director of the tower himself. Some might call it decadent, but that's simply how one who has reached the pinnacle of alchemical acumen should live. I state that to be true and without question. I wouldn't dare be kind of man that would debate whether one man deserves more than another, even when one exists solely as the head of what can only be described as this world's most unnatural monster, while the other hails from a mere hamlet like myself. Certainly not.

In the face of all that, the container I carried felt so small in comparison, it seemed silly that it belonged here. For a moment, the invisible mystery creature inside piqued my interest. Just a bit, and that's where it ended. Anything involving Him stood much better off dumped into the darkest hole possible, and buried along with the rest of mankind's worst nightmares. Never to be thought of again.

Realizing that I had stood for what I guessed was around a minute or so beyond the door's precipice, I steeled myself by hiking the trousers underneath my robes.

"Just give it to him, say a bit, then leave. That's all."

That said, where was this study?

A sublevel of a floor is by no means small, the top of the tenth being no exception. The lower floor's sublevels spanned at least a dozen or so Rytes in radius, which in a layman's units equated to around a Reaping, just behind what was considered a day's harvest in the field for ten men if my experience as the son of a farmer serves me correctly. Even the top sublevel boasted that much area.

Which begged the question of how I would find the study. Naturally.

What could be called the foyer of the floor opened into a hallway. A hallway with sights far misplaced from what one would expect.

Displays of awards, artifacts, portraits of the Empire's greatest historical figures, including the current emperor's family, and many... many taxidermies. Of things I knew and never knew existed and things that I... might not want to know if it did. Perhaps they served as reminders of the tenth's failures, for none of them looked natural or pleasant at all. Not one of the animalistic expressions struck me as having passed on peacefully. Some even appeared almost human, except for a subtle difference or two, such as the tails, claws, or cobbled together flesh paled by age. Their existence made my every step tremble as I passed by fearing that, maybe, they weren't simply immobile taxidermies.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

As I approached the far end of the hall, the overall morbid theme of display abruptly changed. I looked behind me just to be sure, bewildered by how starkly it all changed.

A stone statue, adorned in the raiment of a noblewoman, but not quite. It looked far too elegant for the kind of posh niceties that the upper-class wore. Even more surprising was that the clothes were real. Like the mannequins well-to-do tailors use to display their product.

It had a quality of thick velvet, yet it folded lightly on the features of the figure it graced like lace. Light beige, accented with gold threads stitching the sleeves to the shoulders. A short train which flowed out as easily as the rest did despite its thickness.

And upon the head of this statue rested a circlet of, in my opinion, unrivalled craftsmanship. Even I, someone unspecialized in the field of metalwork and gemology, could sense the pure artistry put forth. Swirls of gold, meticulously twined into rounded helixes wound about the crown of the statue's head, and at its fore, a centerpiece of three stones. Two I could recognize, as they were especially famous and were identical in nature. Enchanted sapphires, which are typically imbued with [Protection] and [Incantation Enhancement], are crafted in this very tower in its second floor. They're the kind of stones few could dream of possessing, and it closely followed that their reputation only graced the few sages of the Empire. I remember seeing similar stones there as a child, when the capitol announced the decadal census some seventeen years ago, and here at the tower I met with those familiar with them on the second, who told me about their enchantments. Probably one of the more interesting and also tame experiences I've had here.

But the central third, the more peculiar of the stones, I had not.

The last stone hadn't any color, but the unique lack of any opacity whatsoever. If not for the lighting above, I might not have noticed it at all, save for its refractions. It was curious, to say the least, since I had never seen a stone so clear, even more so than glass, which I didn't dare to assume it was. In a piece like this, the center could never give up its position to something so unrefined. The second floor zealots of gemology wouldn't stand for it.

As out of place as it was, in all, it's nothing short of a national treasure.

"Maybe a belonging of a late member of the royal family?"

Any guess was as good as that one. I was about to consider why it could be here, and nearly touched it with an outstretched hand, when I felt a strange tugging sensation from below my feet, which quickly became an enormous pressure downward that nearly forced me to the ground. I struggled to maintain a safe posture for the container, and had to release a hand from it just to support myself from collapsing entirely

"Urggh..!"

But as quickly as it came, it released me. Under my hand was no longer the stone that I had grown accustomed to in this tower, but rather a soft carpet. I was no longer in the hallway.

"It's been too long, Mr. Ganz."

Although I only ever heard it once on that day, three years ago, I could never mistake the subtle, sinister crackle to what I would on any other day believe to be a warm welcome.

I lifted myself up to see the 'study' the woman was talking about... if what I saw qualified as a 'study', then I'm sure that you could call an ocean a pond and still be within the same realm of sanity.

A perfect panopticon of shelves, and standing from the central platform I couldn't see a single one devoid of tomes. Literature that I'm sure were each in themselves worth several cities, if not an entire kingdom just from the breadth of their knowledge alone.

I could see these shelves extended much further than naturally possible, from the central platform of the room. A long drop below. I couldn't see the bottom. Nor could I see the top. Dim blue flickering from candles set in silver sconces hardly lit the room from between each column supporting it all. My best guess was some kind of spatial augmentation of the walls of the tower, but that mythic art I had no more expertise in than simple transfer circles.

"L-lord Tenth, yes, it has." I replied. The foreboding air in the room made the effort to look around at the addresser a little difficult. But when I finally did, I saw that 'He' hadn't changed much. Well, on the surface at least.

What peered back at me from the bluish semi-dark of the study gleamed the mask of a man. A man who, when I first met him, had a similar one to what he wore now. Famous for them, even, never failing to wear one while on errands to the capitol. Or so I hear from the occasional newcomer to the tower. The papers made mention of it, they said. Big to-do, since it wasn't often that he left his perch atop his lofty kingdom.

"Sit down, we have much to talk about."

His hand appeared from behind what I soon recognized as a desk in the shadows, and proffered what looked to be empty space.

"Pardon?" Did I not see the chair because of how dark it was? Clearly there was an obvious absence of any seating on this open platform. I squinted to the best of my ability, but there really wasn't any.

"A new child of mine. Don't mind appearances." His voice rasped, with what I interpreted as a disarming snicker at my ignorance. I couldn't quite tell.

Without warning, I felt myself lifted up from behind. Something had a firm grasp of my waist.

I yelped in terror, my mind filled with a dreadful curiosity that tempted me to look back, but I didn't. One mustn't forget that there are some things in this world not meant to be seen by the eyes of men, and I instinctively knew that 'it' was one of them.

Without a sound or any indication of presence other than its control over my body, I soon came to rest on something soft and yielding, like the fabric of a well-made recliner. The unsettling ordeal nearly ended my life there, as I readjusted my faltering hold on my precious cargo.

Whatever held me moved forward, and positioned me directly in front of the Director.

"You may set down the specimen."

I stared blankly at the metal figure before me, stricken with the silent terror I sat on.

Oh, right. I was here to deliver this thing. Honestly, I would've much rather had spent days straight on another failure in the lab than have to do this again. Getting this out of my hands, living through this, and finally getting back to the third, these three things were the only gifts I wanted in this world right now.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Ganz?"

"N-Nothing, I was just about to."

I was a little frantic to rid myself of it. A little too much. I wonder what would've happened if I had taken my time and laid it gently on the table. What would have happened had I rejected the offer to work at this tower? What would have happened had I not been born with the talents I have now? Or even at all?

The pent up anxiety built to a tremor in both hands. The container shook so precariously, enough to wake up anything inside. I was practically rattling the thing's brains around.

Or was that my hands?

I hesitantly peeked inside the container.

"Are you sure?" He pressed.

I could only guess, but...

"I-It seems to be moving, Lord Tenth?"