Chapter 27. Medicinal Herbs (7)

“An alchemist lives there”

“Alchemist?”

“Yes, many alchemists come to Wiesel because it has many medicinal herbs.”

“Does that alchemist live alone?”

“I don’t really know, since he comes every few months. The house is seldom occupied. I don’t think I’ve seen him for six months.”

When he asked some townspeople, they replied that the house was abandoned. The only information was that an unsightly alchemist sometimes visited it.

He stood at the house’s gate. There was no doorbell, as if the owner disliked guests.

He had no plausible reason to enter this house other than his dream. Nothing was more dubious than a stranger going into a house without consent. When he wondered how the alchemist would react if he was inside, he prepared an excuse to justify himself.

He didn’t consider that he would have trouble if he said he had come for the ghouls.

When he turned the rusty knob, he realized it was not locked.

“Huh?”

He opened the gate slightly and stuck his head halfway in.

“Is there anyone in this place?”

Weeds were growing between the stone slabs on the yard floor. The dusty windows of the house were cracked as if they would break at any moment.

It looked more like an abandoned house than a place to live.

He approached the front door which was slightly ajar.

He wondered if a search group had come here. Not likely. His search group, which was supposed to check this area, did not look at this house.

He pulled out his sword as a precaution.

When he reached the front door, he opened it carefully. Then he entered slowly.

The interior was identical to the one he had seen in his dream. However, there were picture frames and broken flower pots on the floor. He wondered if someone broke in to steal. It wouldn’t be unusual for thieves to break into an alchemist’s house to steal research records.

But if that wasn’t the case… He got goosebumps.

He returned the sword to its sheath. He couldn’t face a ghoul with an ordinary sword.

He observed his environment as he headed to the library he had dreamed of.

The wooden floor creaked as loud as thunder.

He stopped at the door of the library and slowly turned the doorknob.

A dust cloud emerged as he opened the door. The floor was covered with dust. The fact that there were no footprints meant that this place had been untouched for a long time, maybe a few years. Posted only on NovelUtopia.com

He approached the shelves.

What were these?

He did not know the language of most of the books. And there wasn’t just one language. There were many languages he didn’t know.

He picked up a book. Every page was filled with notes. He picked up another book at random, it was also filled with notes. Did it mean that the alchemist knew all these languages?

When he looked away from the shelves, an image he saw in his dreams appeared before him. A dusty window. And a long desk.

He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again.

Everything was exactly the same. Maybe he had an out-of-body experience in his sleep because this place was definitely etched in his mind.

There was a bundle of papers on the desk.

They were covered in dust, but looked in good condition. Fortunately, the mice hadn’t eaten it even though they were abandoned for a long time.

It looked to be about 300 pages thick.

When he grabbed the bundle of papers, he blew the dust that was on the cover.

[Research Record]

Zverev Brunello. He was probably the owner of the house.

This was the last thing he saw in his dream.

Why did he see this text in his dream? Did he have any connection with this?

Fortunately, it was written in a language he could read.

When he looked at the index of the research record, he discovered that the 380 pages only contained the recipes for four potions. The second half was written in a language he could not understand.

He could only read the recipe for two potions. He was unable to comprehend its complex terms, such as methods of processing materials, formulas for combining ingredients, various symbols of alchemy, and more.

Not only were the recipes described, but also their side effects, clinical trials, efficacy studies… all recorded in detail.

He was stunned as he took a quick glance at the recipe for the first potion. It was the section where human reactions to incomplete potions were experimented with.

The humans used as test subjects were drawn, from their wrinkles to their unpleasant body hair. In addition, their limbs were bound in chains.

He assumed that they did not participate in these experiments voluntarily.

“Damn.”

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