“…Are you mad?” “What if I am?” When he answered with unnecessary mischief, her face grew even darker. As if she was deep in thought, her chestnut-brown eyes darted busily back and forth. “How am I supposed to make it up to you, then?” “What could you possibly do?”

Her magic skills, her knowledge of magical tools, and even her potion-making—he was better at all of it. Noah replied indifferently, resting his chin in his hand. He wasn’t trying to put her down; it was just the plain truth. He spoke out of half-curiosity and half-playfulness just to poke at her a little. “Ah, well, if I look into it, I’m sure I can find something useful.”

Grumbling with a slightly offended look, she caught herself, shut her mouth, and glanced sideways at him. Her expressions were truly varied even in that brief moment. The fact that she couldn’t even bring herself to argue with the point that he was better than her made her impossible not to find amusing. “She’s a real piece of work, seriously.”

Hearing his unintentional mutter, Rozia immediately widened her eyes and glared at him. Not that it looked threatening at all, coming from someone so small. “Me?” “Yeah. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you.”

Leaning back into his chair at an angle, Noah curled the corners of his lips into a smile. Her gaze grew even fiercer. Her pouting lips soon spilled over with a sassy retort. “Well, I’ve never seen anyone like you either, Senior!” “What about me?”

Unable to cope with the sudden surge of frustration at his nonchalant reply, she even planted both clenched fists on the desk, leaned forward, and glared at him. Yet, still, there wasn’t a single sign of tears.

“You talk recklessly, you tell me to get lost all the time… Ah, whatever. I was worried for nothing, not knowing you were perfectly fine.” “Since when do you worry about me?” “None of your business.”

Now she was talking back to him completely openly. Just last week, she couldn’t even make eye contact. This is getting interesting. Noah closely observed the huffing and puffing Rozia.

Understandably so—she was nothing like the kids he had seen endlessly during his undergraduate days. They usually fell into three categories. The first type was those who were terrified of him as if he were a ghost.

They would tremble just at his glance, and if they ended up in the same group for a class and he so much as spoke to them, they would cower as if they were about to faint. As if he had actually done anything.

The second type was the most annoying. They were the ones who would throw a fit over nothing and pick a fight with a “let’s die together” attitude. After he ground them down bit by bit as long as it didn’t break the rules, the frequency gradually tapered off, becoming quite quiet by the time he reached his fourth year.

The third type was the most unpleasant. Those who belonged here avoided him as if they had seen something filthy. It went far beyond showing reluctance and discomfort.

When they ran into him in the hallway, they would deliberately take a different path, and if they were forced into close proximity, they took extreme care not to let their clothes or belongings brush against him. Putting that much effort into showing disgust was funny once or twice, but repeating it for five whole years steadily chipped away at his nerves. Naturally, it drove him sick of it.

On the other hand, how was this junior in front of him? Noah stared quietly at Rozia. He had thought she was the first type, but he was wrong. The third type had been ruled out from the start.

And she couldn’t be the second type, seeing as she didn’t spit vicious insults or cast magic at him. Resorting to physical force was even further out of the question. She just kept a reasonable amount of boundary and manners while acting cheeky, which he supposed was almost cute. He chuckled quietly.

“Why do you keep staring?” Riled up to the limit, she mumbled with dissatisfaction. It was a world away from the dejected expression she wore when she first stepped into the lab. Well, this version of her was better.

“Ah, whatever.”

Instead of answering her, Noah picked up the potion list left on the side of the desk. It was the one Rozia had left behind when she rushed out of the lab last week.

“It’s been almost thirty minutes already, so let’s stop the nonsense and have a productive conversation.” “Who started picking a fight in the first place…?”

Lightly ignoring her grumbling, he picked up a pencil, marked next to the names of four potions, and jotted down numbers beside them to indicate the order of production.

“For now, this much. Keep in mind that this might change if we run short on time or have spare.”

Receiving the list back, Rozia obediently nodded. She rummaged through her bag, pulled out the thick advanced potion-making book she had brought before, and laid it open next to the list. There was still a little time left before the full hour was up, and since she had the book handy, she seemed intent on reviewing it one more time right there.

Her naturally loose, wheat-colored hair drifted down, blocking the book page. After brushing it away with her hand a couple of times, it seemed to become a nuisance, so she gathered her hair and swept it behind her ears.

Even the ear exposed in a small round shape was tiny. The more I look at her, the smaller she really is. Watching her absentmindedly, Noah muttered inwardly. She kind of looked like a spirited puppy.

Despite her mediocre grades, watching her peer intently at the book with deep focus was quite serious. That, too, was a surprise. Using her finger to point here and there, Rozia would tilt her head in puzzlement, and then flip to the next page once she understood.

It seemed she had a genuine affection for her major, potions, rather than just picking it to easily land a job. I used to be like that, too. Noah dropped his gaze and fell into a brief thought, prompted by an urge that suddenly flared up just from watching Rozia. Tapping the desk with the tip of his pencil, he spoke up on a whim.

“Do you still want to learn the ‘Dream-Inducing Potion’?”

Perhaps because it was an abrupt question, she looked up in surprise. Her clear chestnut-brown eyes blinked with curiosity. “Yes. But…” “But what?”

Without minding his teasing prodding, Rozia hesitated for a moment before speaking up cautiously. “I thought you really disliked Senior Radion, so I figured you hated that potion too.”

It wasn’t an incorrect assumption. Noah acknowledged it swiftly, but showed no outward sign. It was a habit born from a dislike of revealing personal emotions in front of others. It was true that hearing Sempland’s name from Rozia last week had stirred his feelings. It had been a reflexive reaction, too.

However, was there any need for that? He doodled idly on a blank piece of paper and muttered to himself. Over two years had passed, and he and Radion had long since scattered to their respective paths. As graduate researchers at the same school, they occasionally crossed paths from afar with unpleasant luck, but that was the extent of it.

Besides, if that bastard was seemingly living it up and getting along fine, what reason did he have not to? He let out a short, scoffing laugh and opened his mouth. “On second thought, what crime did the potion commit? It’s the person who’s the problem.”

Rozia still wore a bewildered expression. Ignoring the gaze trailing after him, Noah stood up from his seat. Since they had finished discussing the project, he planned to sort out the miscellaneous items temporarily shoved into the storage room.

“Go reserve a practice lab and get the necessary materials ready. We’ll start production next week.” “Materials? Swamp dragonfly wings and moonlit grass won’t be in the material room… The department doesn’t fund materials needed for elective classes, right?”

Noah stopped in his tracks at her worried voice. The materials used for graduate-level potions tended to be rarer and thus quite expensive, so it was understandable why the department would hesitate to cover them.

Ah, what a hassle. Rubbing his face with one hand, Noah let out a deep sigh. Since he had postponed yesterday’s appointment, was there any other choice? Come to think of it, this was all Professor Sidpelle’s fault. He really was no help at all.

“You, keep tomorrow afternoon free.” “Huh? Why? Tomorrow is Saturday.” “Don’t you know the course rules? We have to meet at least twice a week, one hour each time.”

Rolling her eyes, Rozia immediately made a crying face. Well, do you think I like this either, having to do group projects right up through the weekend? Ignoring her quiet internal screams, Noah headed toward the storage room.