Dorian did not like being ignored especially not when he was asking questions that very clearly demanded answers.
"Answer me," he said, voice low, controlled but sharp enough . "What you did just now wasn't standard magic. It wasn't any recognized magic."
Liora stood before him, arms folded loosely, gaze unfocused as though she were staring past his shoulder. The chaos of the brothel below had not yet fully settled, but the guards were already dragging the unconscious man away.
Whispers rippled through the building like aftershocks but Doorian paid no mind to none of it.
His attention was locked entirely on her.
"Those circles," he continued. "They weren't inscribed. They weren't summoned. They didn't follow mana flow laws. You didn't even chant."
Still no response from Liora, she wasn't even pretending to listen anymore.
Dorian clicked his tongue in irritation. "Are you deaf now, or just rude?"
Liora's eyes narrowed slightly but her thoughts were elsewhere.
She replayed the moment in her mind, to the exact instant Dorian's gaze had snapped to the transmutation circles. Not the wind. Not the effect.
The circles themselves.
That alone should have been impossible for even a mage to achieve.
Even if I didn't hide the circles, he should not have been able to see my transmutation circles, this is bizarre…
Her eyes sharpened.
Unless…No. That couldn't be right.
She glanced back at him, really looked this time.
Disheveled attire. Sharp features dulled by years of excess.
His eyes were filled with curiosity, irritation… and something else, Depth.
And then Liora saw the light in his eyes;
Could he have achieved it? No, there is no way someone so young could achieve such a feat. Which means he was born with it. A human with innate soul resonance!
The thought stirred her more than the interruption.
Dorian stepped closer. "Hey. I'm talking to you."
He reached out, fingers extended, intending to tap her shoulder.
The moment his skin made contact, his world shattered:
Sound vanished. Light collapsed inward.
Dorian gasped but no air entered his lungs.
Instead, he was falling and when sensation finally returned, he was no longer in the brothel, he stood in a vast, endless expanse of fog.
The ground beneath his feet was smooth, reflective, like polished glass veiled in mist. There was no sky. No horizon.
Only silence and then something loomed ahead.
Dorian's breath caught.
A massive monolith beyond comprehension.
Emerald in color, translucent yet solid, its surface etched with patterns too complex to follow, lines within lines folding endlessly inward. It towered upward, piercing through the fog, stretching so high that his eyes could not find see end.
His knees felt weak.
"What… is this?" he whispered.
The monolith pulsed, the fog trembled. Then a voice thundered directly into his mind.
"How dare you."
The words carried no volume and yet they shook him to his core. The voice was clearly pissed at Dorian..
Dorian clutched his head as the pressure crushed inward, like the weight of an ocean bearing down on his consciousness.
"I—I didn't—" His voice cracked. "I don't even know where I am!"
The presence loomed closer and then everything snapped. Dorian stumbled backward, gasping, his back slamming into the brothel's wooden railing, air rushed into his lungs violently.
His heart hammered.
"What the hell—"
Before he could finish, Liora's hand swept across his face.
There was no pain, just a sudden, overwhelming heaviness. The last thing Dorian saw before darkness claimed him was her face calm, almost expressionless. Then black.
Liora stared at the unconscious young man for several long seconds.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
"…Unbelievable," she murmured.
She turned away, pressing two fingers to her temple.
Soul resonance. The awakening of the soul.
Most people went their entire lives without even brushing against it.
Even the strongest archmages died without ever realizing it existed and yet
Dorian Viremont. The useless bastard of house Virmont was born with it.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"How," she whispered, almost irritated. "How did someone like you awaken it?"
She exhaled slowly.
"This is troublesome."
With a flick of her wrist, she signaled the guards. "Take him back to Viremont Estate. Carefully. Say he drank too much and passed out."
The guards nodded immediately. They knew better than to ask questions.
Liora glanced down once more at Dorian's unconscious form. Her eyes softened just a fraction.
"…You're going to change things," she said quietly. "Whether you like it or not."
Dorian woke to silence, he groaned, rolling onto his side. His head felt stuffed with cotton, thoughts sluggish, fragmented. The scent of clean linen filled his nose.
My bed?
"…What?" he muttered.
He pushed himself upright, squinting as sunlight filtered through the curtains.
Alone.No women. No wine bottles. No chaos.
Just his bedroom.
"That's new" he said hoarsely.
He rubbed his temples, trying to recall how he'd gotten here.
The brothel!
The green-haired woman,tthe strange magic circles.
The… fog? The monolith?
His chest tightened.
"That wasn't a dream," he whispered. 'It felt too real to be a dream"
Swinging his legs off the bed, Dorian stood and nearly stumbled
"Dizzy. Fantastic."
He staggered out of his room and nearly collided with a passing servant.
She yelped. "Master Dorian!"
He grabbed the doorframe. "You. What happened last night?"
The servant blinked. "You don't remember?"
"No," he said flatly. "So explain."
"Well," she began hesitantly, "you were brought back late at night by guards from the Red District. They said you drank too much and passed out."
"…That's it?"
"Yes, sir."
Dorian frowned.
That explanation made sense, which was exactly why he didn't believe it. He dismissed the servant with a wave and returned to his room. As he dressed, one word echoed in his mind.
Brothel owner.
"Liora"
He fastened his coat with more force than necessary.
"I'm not letting this go."
The servant watched him stride toward the front gates.
"Sir?" she called. "Where are you going?"
"The brothel."
She blinked. "…In broad daylight?"
"If anyone asks," Dorian said without looking back"
She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it.
Even for Dorian, this was odd.
The brothel buzzed with activity when Dorian arrived the moment he stepped inside, voices rose.
"Dorian's here!"
"Good morning, handsome~"
"Come upstairs, I've missed you!"
Women crowded him from all sides, soft bodies pressing close, perfume filling the air. A generous bosom brushed his arm. A plump hip pressed against his thigh.
For a brief, dangerous moment, I could forget everything, a traitorous thought whispered.
Then his jaw clenched.
"No," he said firmly, pushing through. "I'm not here for that."
Disappointed pouts followed.
"Where's Liora?" he demanded. "I need to see her. Now."
The girls exchanged glances.
"Ohhh," one giggled. "Looking for the boss so early?"
"Out of the way."
Guards stepped forward, hands on weapons.
"Sir, you can't—"
A voice drifted down from above.
"Let him up."
Liora leaned against the railing of the top floor, smiling warmly.
"Welcome back, Dorian Viremont."
His eyes narrowed. "You."
She gestured gracefully. "My private room."
They sat across from each other at a low table.
Liora sipped green tea as though this were a casual afternoon meeting.
Dorian stared at her, eyes burning with restrained anger.
"What did you do to me last night?" he asked. "Was it a spell? Or part of that weird magic of yours?"
She took another sip, his irritation flared, he hated being in the dark, not knowing things.
"I'm not in the mood for games."
She set the cup down gently. "It's impressive you remember anything at all. Most people experience short-term memory loss after my sleep formula."
"Sleep formula? Explain what that is"
"I'll answer," she said smoothly. "On one condition."
Dorian scoffed. "You're not in a position to be making conditions. I could have you detained for assault."
She spoke over him effortlessly. "Become an alchemist, learn from me"
Silence.
Then Dorian laughed. He laughed long and loud, clutching his stomach.
"An alchemist?" he repeated between breaths. " And you? Teaching me? What exactly do you plan to instruct, how to redecorate brothels?"
Liora smirked. "Of all people, Dorian Viremont, you should know better than to judge by appearances."
His laughter died down.
She continued. "To the average person you're a noble bastard, a failure at magic. Discarded. Mocked. Written off. But beneath all that is a bright mind which has lost its drive and purpose."
Her gaze sharpened. "The Selection is coming, and there are rumours that you're participating.
Do you really want your last attempt at the Selection to be so ordinary?
Is that how you want to be remembered?"
Dorian stiffened.
She leaned forward. "You're better than this. You always were."
His brow rose slowly. "And you think you're the one to put me back on track?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation, "In fact, I am the only one who can,"
He studied her face. The warmth of her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"What exactly are you going to teach me??" he asked.
Liora's lips curved knowingly.
"One of the oldest and most dangerous disciplines in existence."
She leaned closer.
"Alchemy."