Walking through the bustling market was one of the few things that still reminded me of home. The ebb and flow of people, the aroma of food vendors, and the clamor of haggling voices gave the place a warmth and energy I hadn’t felt since leaving my own world.

Because of this, I usually took a longer route to the apothecary, just to lose myself in the crowd and forget, if only briefly, everything that had happened.

The past few months had been taxing. Physical recovery had taken nearly a month, but even though I was technically "healed," I still felt twinges of pain. My ribs ached if I moved wrong, and my shoulder had started predicting the weather better than any seer. It seemed like life in this world aged you faster, with its endless trials and high stakes. My current challenge, however, was one as old as civilization itself: acquiring wealth.

I’d realized early on that bounty hunting wasn’t for me. I’d had my fill of near-death experiences, and “retirement” sounded blissfully appealing. But that left me with a practical problem: income. Alira had the means to support us, but her mother made it a point to remind me, with thinly veiled glee, that I was just a “lazy offworlder.” It seemed that when it came to nobility, there was a certain stigma attached to being an offworlder. Coming from various backgrounds, they often didn’t fit neatly into local social structures, and their ideas and expectations frequently disrupted the established order.

It didn’t help that current tensions with Celestria were partly due to descendants of offworlders marrying into noble families there and staging a coup. Nobody liked an “threat” to the established power. Marrying an offworlder or even associating too closely was political suicide here, and Alira and I both knew her mother’s constant reminders were fueled by more than just personal distaste.

To make matters worse, Alira wanted me to join Shadowmere’s intelligence network—a shadowy combination of espionage and assassination. I understood the value of the work, but the thought of trading my freedom for more intrigue and violence didn’t sit well. It was ironic that the enemy’s views on leadership and social mobility were more aligned with my own, so I kept proposing a decision.

In my search for purpose—and a steady income—the local Mage Guild seemed like the obvious place to start. At first, it seemed promising; they had heard of my miraculous escape from the adamantite prison at the Mage Tower, and curiosity buzzed around me. My first week there was everything I’d imagined: animated discussions about the nature of magic, comparing my ideas with theirs, and exploring theory and application from entirely different perspectives. For a brief moment, I felt like I belonged.

But as the days passed, a different tone took over. The Mage Guild, it seemed, was deeply entrenched in the brewing conflict. Their focus was overwhelmingly on combat magic, and they wanted to channel my experience into spells that could be used against Adamantite. When they realized there were no easy answers—and that I didn’t share their enthusiasm for a war with so many blurred lines—our relationship soured. Conversations became tense, and what began as respect quickly shifted to suspicion. I began to see that I wasn’t just another mage there—I was the “offworlder,” someone to be useful in their cause, or, failing that, someone to be distrusted. Politics, it seemed, didn’t stop at the Mage Guild’s doors.

Which led me to the apothecary in front of me, the heart of my latest "get-rich" scheme—a scheme that, thankfully, couldn't be repurposed for war. The answer? Chocolate.

Since my free time had been abundant lately, I'd finally ironed out the quirks in my conjure food spell. Normally, you can’t make money off conjured goods; they can taste pretty awful. But with enough practice, I’d figured out how to give my conjured food some actual flavor and texture. It turns out that if you actually know the chemical elements that make up food, you can prepare the exact materials needed for transfiguration—or however the process actually works.

That’s when the idea hit me: back home, everyone loved chocolate, so why wouldn’t it be the same here? After some trial and error, I got the recipe as close to the real thing as I could manage.

"A… my favorite business partner!" The shop owner greeted me with a grin that could only be brought on by healthy profits. "I hope you've brought more of that chocolate."

Setting down my heavy backpack, I pulled out a few brick-like packages and handed them over. I couldn't help but smile at the thought; I felt a bit like a dealer, bringing some addictive, exotic good to eager customers.

"Excellent! My clients can’t get enough of it," he said, weighing each package with an approving nod. "But... only ten bricks? You’ll have to step up production, my friend."

That was the catch. The “production” process took ages, leaving me completely drained if I attempted it in large batches. Plus, maintaining quality required intense focus; one mistake, and the taste was ruined. "Sorry, but it has specific requirements. ten bricks a week is about the max I can handle."

"Demand’s soaring! Hire some help if that’s the issue. I could even lend you some dinari if you’re short on funds," he offered eagerly.

"If only it were that simple," I replied with a sigh.

He handed me a pouch of coins from under the counter, and I took it with a nod before stepping back out into the bustling street. Though I'd been making a decent amount in recent weeks, it wasn't exactly a fortune—especially with the slow pace of production. For now, it was income, and every bit of it was going straight into my “get-a-house-and-escape-the-wannabe-mother-in-law” fund.

I was in luck—Alira had agreed to meet for quick lunch nearby, and when I entered the tavern, I spotted her already seated. She greeted me with a warm smile as I sat down.

"Got rid of the contraband?" she teased.

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"Yes, and may I remind you," I said with a grin, "you’re one of the biggest fans of said contraband."

"It does taste amazing,” she admitted, “but the presentation still needs work."

I had to agree. "The apothecary has some ideas," I said, picturing his enthusiasm for “expanding production.”

Alira gave me a look. "I still don’t understand why you went with some random apothecary; I know people who’d pay a lot more. You know how addictive the stuff is."

I shrugged. "Keeping a low profile seems wise right now. Selling addictive goods isn’t exactly a diplomatic endeavor."

She shook her head with a small laugh. "So is this really the plan? Becoming a chocolate merchant?"

"Actually," I replied, leaning in, "the chocolate was just a proof of concept. If I can conjure food, I might be able to transmute other materials too."

Her eyes lit with curiosity. "Like what?"

I gave her a sly smile. "Turning lead into gold."

At her silence, I continued, "By the way," I asked, "is gold valuable here too? Or should I start brainstorming other ways to fund this house I have in mind?"

She raised her eyebrows. "We already have a house. I don’t know why you’re so set on moving."

I tilted my head, letting out a short sigh. "Do people here normally live with their parents well into adulthood?”

She looked at me as if I'd missed some obvious fact. "If it’s a perfectly good villa with plenty of space, I don’t see why not."

"That’s one way to look at it," I replied. "But your mother hates me."

Alira let out an exasperated huff. "She does not," she started, but one look from me, and she softened. "Fine," she admitted, a touch more serious, "I understand why you might want to move. But if you get a new place, it means we’d probably end up seeing each other less.”

She didn’t say it like a guilt trip; it was genuine, a quiet reminder of the difficult decisions we'd have to make at some point. Her tone hit me harder than I'd expected. "Yeah, I know," I replied. "Sooner or later, we’ll have to make some tough choices."

She shook her head, brushing away the somber turn in the conversation. "But let’s not talk about that now. Tell me more about this turning-lead-into-gold idea."

I leaned back, glad to lighten the mood. "It was the dream of so-called alchemists back home. And actually, with modern science, it was possible—technically. But the cost was insanely high, so no one did it practically. With magic, though, I figured maybe..."

Alira nodded, catching on. "Gold’s definitely valuable here. But I sense some hesitation, considering you’ve been sticking to chocolate production for a while."

I sighed, realizing I wasn’t hiding anything from her. "Yes. That’s why I asked if you knew of any secluded sheds in the woods nearby."

She laughed, a sweet, warm sound that eased some of the tension between us. "So that’s why you asked? I thought you were feeling nostalgic for the wilderness or something."

"If I never have to sleep on bare ground again, it’ll be too soon."

Alira raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes, I’m sure. You were raised in luxury, after all."

"Says the almost princess. Anyway, how's work? Destabilized any small kingdoms lately?" I smirked.

"You do like that joke, but if you must know," She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper, "An elf diplomatic delegation is arriving tonight by portal."

"Must be important," I said, impressed. I do remember elf and humans not really mixing." I responded.

She rolled her eyes. "You have no idea. Generations of isolationism, we must have sent dozens of envoys over the years, and now, suddenly, they want to talk? And they’re coming here, of all places.

"So, you’ll be busy tonight, I take it?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Don’t wait up; who knows how long this will go on."

I smiled, feeling more determined. "Perfect. So, where’s that shed? If I’m free tonight, might as well put in some hours on my little side project."

She laughed, shaking her head. “Just promise me you won’t end up blowing the place up. I know you want that house, but my mother isn’t that bad.”

"Why do you think I'm doing this tonight?” I replied, feigning a shudder. “The idea of bumping into her without you around to soften her... personality..."

She gave me a playful punch on the arm. “Oh, come on. She’s not a monster; you make her sound like one.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said it, not me.”

She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips as she stood up. “Mast should know about the shed—I asked him to look for one a few days ago. Anyway, I’ve got to run,” she said, leaning down for a quick kiss.

"One last thing—promise me you won’t come looking for me at the shed if I’m running late tomorrow," I said. When she rolled her eyes, I pressed on, "I mean it. What I’m planning to do is genuinely dangerous."

"Then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all?" she countered.

I tried to reassure her with a smile. "My shield should keep me safe... at least I hope so," I added, making a mental note to double-check whether it could actually block radiation.

Seeing her stern expression, I quickly clarified, "I’m kidding, I promise. You know I’m always careful. Now go enjoy your time with the elves."

With a quick detour to get the location from Mast, I made my way to the shed just as the sun was setting. It was the perfect spot—small, remote, and quiet. I pulled out a vial of mercury from my backpack. Starting small seemed like the smart choice, so I carefully poured a tiny droplet onto a burnt wooden plate I found near.

The concept was straightforward: mercury has 80 protons, and gold has 79. So, in theory, losing just one proton could turn mercury into gold. Of course, it was more complex than that—something about mercury undergoing beta decay to become gold. But when it came to magic, it had a way of bridging those scientific gaps.

With the droplet before me, I held my hand over it and focused on its essence. I knew it would likely decay into a radioactive isotope of gold, which wasn’t ideal, but it was a step in the right direction. Drawing on the same principles as when I conjured food, I visualized the desired outcome and honed in on the core elements. Creating food required various elements from the air, water, and wood, but this time, it was just mercury.

As I channeled energy into the droplet, I felt an immediate resistance—a natural pushback against my efforts. I focused harder, and suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst. Energy surged into the droplet, and I noticed a faint tingling sensation from my Mana Shield. The droplet had become radioactive, and if I looked at it from a certain angle, it seemed to have a faint yellowish glow.

For the next several hours, I carefully manipulated the energies, watching as the material solidified. Even when it took on a full yellow hue, the radioactivity stubbornly remained. At one point, it even started to gain a silvery sheen, indicating I’d pushed too far in the other direction—it was turning into platinum. I began to worry that even if the Mana Shield no longer registered any tingling, the piece might still be mildly radioactive, just not enough for the shield to detect.

As dawn approached, I decided to call it quits. It seems magic had its limits when it came to filling in the gaps, or perhaps what I needed was precision—something magic just couldn't offer. If a single grain-sized droplet was giving me this much trouble, it was better to cut my losses. I carefully placed the droplet outside on the ground and used my Quicksand spell to bury it as deep as possible. Hopefully, no one would come digging around here.

There would be no quick profits from this idea. The disappointment, combined with my growing fatigue, pushed me to sleep in the shed rather than risk running into Lady Passive-Aggressive back at the villa.

As I drifted off, my thoughts wandered to my next project. Gold was out of the question—what else could I try to create? Explosives? Maybe C-4. That could have its uses.