The Drug Manufacturer King, Evan Alkart.
Fewer people knew of that nickname than one might think.
In the underworld, it was naturally hard to come by, but for those who traveled between the surface world and the shadows, the title had spread with terrifying speed.
Everyone kept their mouths shut, so most remained unaware.
The king who rules the underworld.
Among them all, Duke Cabaro knew Evan’s nickname better than anyone.
Drug Manufacturer King.
A title created as if to imitate his own nickname, Drug King.
Of course, it was not a name Evan had chosen for himself.
If you asked Evan to pick the person he hated most in the world, Duke Cabaro would undoubtedly take first place.
Nicknames are not decided by oneself, after all—they are given by others.
In that sense, Duke Cabaro found Evan all the more admirable.
He had received no assistance whatsoever.
He had never been taught or shown anything.
Because Duke Cabaro himself had been incompetent.
Because, as a father, he had failed to give him any guidance at all.
Yet through his innate talent for alchemy, through interest and effort alone, Evan had built the title of Drug Manufacturer King with his own hands.
Regardless of whether the ring of it was good or bad, the very fact that the word “king” was attached proved his ability beyond doubt.
“I am proud of you.”
Honestly, not even Leo could surpass Evan in this regard.
Rather, Leo fell short.
He didn’t want to compare them, but he had no choice.
At best, Leo had barely passed the first-stage trial.
Evan had passed the first stage in just a few months.
And he hadn’t even been serious about it.
His range of movement?
At most the edges of places where his safety was guaranteed.
He had met very few people.
Most of them were limbs of Cabaro—those who did not fully follow the duke yet could not openly defy him, merely probing Evan.
They met Evan, became enchanted by his ability as if bewitched, swore loyalty, and with roughly made “herbal medicine” turned the underworld upside down.
In truth, the few months it took were only for the sake of fairness.
If not for that, he could have passed the successor trial in a single month without it being strange at all.
In contrast, what had Leo been like?
At first, he had been full of bravado.
And quite excessively so.
He thought the name Duke Cabaro behind him was enough.
Of course, it was not.
Only after several weeks did he realize reality, and though he tried to correct himself, first impressions do not change so easily.
Even the nickname he earned was nothing impressive.
Drug Zealot.
The very word “zealot” carried mockery, meaning he was still far from being called a creator or a king.
At least he had the sense not to be called that openly, but the nickname never disappeared.
Until Leo grew greatly and replaced it, he would probably be called by that shameful name—Drug Zealot.
Such a person did not even deserve to take the second successor trial.
In contrast, Evan had entered the second-stage trial with absurd ease.
The difference in their inherent capability and talent was simply too great.
In the end, since the ducal title was thoroughly merit-based, he had no choice but to value Evan more highly.
That was precisely why he was warning him now.
“I do not think you are arrogant. You have never once shown such eyes.”
Evan was neither arrogant nor possessed overwhelming pride in his own ability.
As far as Duke Cabaro could guess, Evan probably saw his ability merely as a tool.
A tool to cover his shortcomings and make him appear more capable.
And, of course, to fix flawed opponents and turn them into followers.
That was the very point Duke Cabaro worried about.
“Excessive talent becomes poison.”
Evan would probably handle it wisely.
But the malice of the world was never so kind.
Once outside the mansion and the underworld, Duke Cabaro’s power could no longer reach.
He had realized it through the recent incident in the Kingdom of Demisia.
Evan would never be satisfied with the present.
He would reach further, and if things went well, he might even influence the entire continent through his ability.
That was still far too early for him.
Especially with his medicines that were no different from drugs.
“—Y-Your Grace. The medicine Young Master Evan made… truly has no harmful effects.”
“None? Then why is everyone so obsessed?”
“Because they know it is the only means that can truly cure their illnesses.”
Evan had merely acted with good intentions.
Using his outstanding ability.
And there were people who would simply be grateful after receiving such kindness?
Until now, he had been lucky that only such people appeared.
But who says everyone will be like that in the future?
Good intentions turn into malice, and malice grows into even greater malice.
Did Evan know that?
Even if he did, it was still too early for him to face it.
Meaning it was still too soon for Evan to reveal all his abilities to the entire continent.
“Even if it is not called a drug, once someone tastes it, they will depend on it forever. Who could stay still after witnessing such power?”
That is what drugs are, after all.
The moment you try it once, ecstasy so intense it soaks the brain.
It destroys the nervous system to the point daily life becomes impossible, in exchange granting pleasure unattainable through ordinary means.
Evan’s medicines were, in a way, of the same kind.
Incurable lifelong illnesses.
Hair that even divine power could not regrow.
Chronic conditions like diabetes that required constant expensive divine treatments with no guarantee of success.
That was why Evan’s medicine was even more valuable.
It had a time limit, but the effect was guaranteed simply by taking it.
What patient could turn away after seeing Evan’s medicine—his drug?
Even Duke Cabaro himself was not confident he could.
“Do you understand?”
Duke Cabaro had explained everything.
Evan, having heard it all, remained silent.
He showed no reaction whatsoever.
For some reason, tension began to rise.
Duke Cabaro tapped the table with his finger.
Tap, tap.
Those two golden eyes staring at him.
Eyes so utterly expressionless that even the word “cold” did not come to mind… resembled his own.
…Damn it, I already did it.
Yet Evan, the one being stared at, was inwardly sighing.
No, Father.
Why are you telling me this now?
You could have told me much earlier.
I already caused the incident.
A person of Duke Cabaro’s level would have known everything—that an invitation from Professor Moriarty would fly in, that he would even send someone to fetch him directly.
While inwardly lamenting, Evan forced himself to nod outwardly.
Yes.
He meant well, so complaining here about why he was told so late would be foolish.
“I will keep it in mind.”
Perhaps that single sentence was not enough; Duke Cabaro stared fixedly at Evan.
Evan forced himself to add,
“I have absolutely no such intentions, so please do not worry too much.”
“Worry… you say.”
Was it a satisfactory answer?
The corner of Duke Cabaro’s mouth twitched.
Very awkwardly.
As if trying to smile, only one side stretched long.
…Depending on how you looked at it, it seemed closer to a sneer.
“I am… glad you think that way.”
Duke Cabaro was inwardly satisfied.
Finally, he had said something fatherly to Evan.
They had become just a little closer.
Evan bowed his head slightly and stepped outside.
The air was slightly chilly, different from inside.
Scratching his cheek, he imitated the expression Duke Cabaro had made at the very end.
…Does he just dislike me?
Was it forced? It was so stiff.
Rather than funny… hmm.
It looked like an expression of extreme dislike.
Was he that unwilling to praise me?
***
Regardless of the process, he had received permission in the end.
He had also received Professor Moriarty’s invitation, and the person sent to fetch him had already arrived.
Now all that remained was to depart.
“…Should I make it so annoying that he can’t breathe?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds good.”
For some reason, the atmosphere had only grown hotter.
Sloth (Royan), looking slightly angry for some reason.
Elric, his entire body including his face wrapped tightly in white threads, stuck in the corner.
Evan turned his gaze to Aegis.
Aegis scratched her cheek with a troubled expression.
“I really didn’t do anything? I even tried to stop them. But the kids just got angrier—what was I supposed to do?”
“Why are they angry?”
“Evan! Listen to this!”
Lapis huffed as she spoke.
“They said you’re a talent fit to be a graduate professor! That you have to become a graduate slave—I mean, student—first before getting your master’s and doctorate…”
Ah, that’s a bit…
Evan inwardly turned serious.
Graduate student?
Are they insane?
I’m not doing unpaid passion labor.
I only work if they pay me properly.
But… siding completely with them here would make the picture a little awkward.
Evan sighed and said,
“Everyone, stop.”
They froze.
As if placed under magic.
Evan spoke in a dry voice,
“I will not permit any further rudeness.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“…Sorry.”
The reaction came from an unexpected place.
Lapis had begun shedding tears like rabbit droppings.
Uh, huh?
Because I didn’t want Evan to go through something hard… That clear-eyed jerk said weird things and…
“I didn’t do anything…”
“You—you’re crying?”
Hmm.
Aegis panicked.
Evan was just as flustered.
How many times in one’s life does one see the Sin of Wrath cry?
He had never even seen it in the game.
The Sin of Wrath only ever showed exactly two expressions.
Anger, and expressionlessness.
No other emotions existed.
Like a doll.
So seeing her cry like this for the first time naturally shattered a bit of his usual calm and composure.
…Though his face remained stiff from tension all the same.
“Please calm down. Don’t cry…”
Sniff, sniff.
Lapis suddenly threw herself into Evan’s arms.
Thanks to her still looking like a child, the sight wasn’t strange.
Swallowing a deep inward sigh, Evan gently stroked her back.
Frey, watching the scene,
Frey grabbed the back of her neck as if appalled.
“That—that detestable rabbit bitch…”
“Calm down…”
“More importantly, who the hell are you? Why are you touching me? What are you? Why do you keep talking to me?”
Royan calmed the now venomous Frey.
It was surprising they could converse that well despite meeting for the first time.
“Anyway, everyone calm down.”
When Lapis finally stopped crying and was crunching on the lettuce Evan handed her with both hands,
Evan looked at the completely unconscious white cocoon (Elric) and said,
“Let’s slowly set off. To Karen Academy.”
Ah, please.
I hope nothing happens on the way.
“Evan.”
“Yes, Frey.”
As if her earlier anger had been a lie, Frey had returned to being perfectly demure.
Sitting primly with her hands folded, Frey slightly bowed her head and asked Evan,
“I have something I’d like to try. May I hear your opinion?”
“What is it?”
“Sharing knowledge with people. What do you think about it?”
Normally, one would interpret it as good intention.
Sharing knowledge is never a bad thing.
…If only the speaker weren’t Frey.
The Sin of Pride.
Superbia.
She wanted to share knowledge?
…What kind of knowledge does she plan to share?
Surely not… the recipe for the medicine?