The scent of the healing potion still lingered faintly in the room.
Amber light shimmered within the ice-forged bottle resting upon Arna's desk. The air carried the clean, invigorating aroma of crushed herbs and stabilized mana—a scent that did not belong to failure or decline.
Arna stood motionless behind his desk, his gaze fixed upon the sealed wound on his palm. The cut was gone. Not hidden. Not disguised.
He flexed his fingers slowly.
No pain.
No residual weakness.
His breathing was steady—but deeper now.
Across from him, Kel remained calm.
His dark coat caught a faint sliver of sunlight from the window behind Arna, the silver threading along its seams glinting subtly. Reina sat poised on the sofa, silent as a blade at rest.
Kel observed Arna carefully.
He sensed it.
The shift.
The subtle change in Arna's aura.
The defensive edge had softened.
Not vanished.
But lowered.
Hope had entered the room—and hope made people vulnerable.
Kel leaned back slightly in his seat.
"Tell me something, Arna."
Arna looked up.
"Yes?"
"How much percentage do you think your tower needs… for complete revival?"
The question was unexpected.
Arna's brows knit faintly.
He glanced down at the potion bottle, then back at Kel.
"…Complete revival?"
"Yes."
Arna exhaled slowly.
He moved around his desk and leaned against its edge, folding his arms lightly.
"Not even one hundred percent would revive us completely," he said quietly.
There was no dramatics in his tone.
Only realism.
"We lost senior staff. Contracts. Funding channels. Trust."
His amber eyes darkened slightly.
"This potion would stabilize our expenses."
He gestured toward the bottle.
"It would repair immediate financial strain."
A faint pause.
"But revival…"
His gaze shifted briefly to the window.
"That requires time."
Kel nodded once.
"Stabilization is enough for now."
Arna studied him.
"You understand finances?"
"Yes."
Kel's voice remained level.
"Then you understand royalty."
"Yes."
Arna straightened slightly.
"The tower standard for alchemical contracts is between fifteen and thirty percent."
Kel did not respond immediately.
He watched Arna's posture.
Still cautious.
Still prepared for negotiation.
Kel spoke calmly.
"Then take one hundred percent."
The words fell into the room like a stone dropped into still water.
Reina's eyes flickered faintly.
Arna blinked.
"…What?"
"Take one hundred percent of the profits."
Silence stretched.
Arna stared at him.
"You mean—"
"Yes."
"You receive nothing?"
"Yes."
Arna pushed away from the desk entirely now.
His brows drew together.
"Are you serious?"
Kel's expression did not shift.
"Yes."
"That makes no sense."
Arna's voice sharpened faintly.
"You bring a formula capable of stabilizing the tower."
He gestured toward the potion.
"You demonstrate it personally."
"And now you say you want zero royalty?"
Kel tilted his head slightly.
"Let me ask you something."
Arna's jaw tightened.
"What?"
"The percentage you were going to give me."
"Yes?"
"What would I do with that money?"
Arna blinked faintly at the sudden redirection.
"…What do you mean?"
Kel's gaze remained steady.
"If I received twenty percent."
"Or thirty."
"What would I do with it?"
Arna hesitated.
"You would… enjoy it."
He spoke uncertainly now.
"Use it."
"Purchase what you need."
"Spend it as you wish."
Kel shook his head slightly.
"Wrong."
The word was soft.
But firm.
Arna's eyes narrowed faintly.
Kel continued.
"I would invest it."
A faint pause.
"Into something that yields greater returns."
Reina's gaze sharpened subtly.
She understood immediately.
Kel leaned forward slightly.
"The royalty you were prepared to give me."
"Yes."
"I ask you to keep all of it."
Arna's eyes widened slightly again.
Kel's voice lowered—but carried greater weight.
"Because I am investing it into the Twin Magic Tower."
Silence.
The air felt heavier now.
More focused.
Arna did not move.
Kel's gaze locked onto his.
"Think of me as an investor."
A faint flicker moved across Arna's face.
Kel continued.
"I am not abandoning profit."
"I am redirecting it."
He gestured lightly toward the office around them—the scattered papers, the overworked desk, the worn banners visible through the window.
"If this potion stabilizes your tower…"
"If it restores production lines…"
"If it rebuilds staff confidence…"
He paused.
"Then your tower's value increases."
Arna's breathing slowed.
"You are asking for equity?"
Kel's lips curved faintly.
"No."
"Not ownership."
"I am asking for alliance."
The word lingered.
Reina watched Arna's posture carefully.
The boy who had stood defensively moments ago now stood frozen—not from suspicion.
From recalculation.
Kel continued calmly.
"If I take royalty and leave…"
"I gain coin."
"And you remain weak."
Arna did not interrupt.
"But if I allow you to take one hundred percent…"
"And you rebuild…"
"Then your tower grows."
"And when you grow…"
Kel's gaze sharpened faintly.
"I grow."
The spiral beneath his spine turned steadily.
Balanced.
Strategic.
Arna's eyes searched Kel's face.
"You are not asking for board seats."
"No."
"You are not asking for control."
"No."
"You are not even asking for fixed return."
"No."
Kel leaned back again.
"I am asking you to succeed."
Silence.
Outside the window, sunlight shifted slightly as a cloud passed across the sky.
Inside—
The office felt smaller.
More intimate.
Arna ran a hand slowly through his hair, fingers tangling in disordered strands.
"You realize," he said quietly, "that I could accept this… and never repay you."
Kel did not blink.
"I know."
"And you trust that I will not?"
"Yes."
Arna's jaw tightened faintly.
"Why?"
Kel's answer came without delay.
"Because you are Arna Marlet."
The name settled heavily between them.
"Master of the Twin Magic Tower."
Not 'kid.'
Not 'inexperienced.'
Master.
Arna felt it.
The recognition.
Not mockery.
Acknowledgment.
Kel's voice softened slightly.
"You inherited this tower at fourteen."
"You refused corruption."
"You allowed those who sought manipulation to leave."
Arna's breath caught faintly.
"How do you—"
Kel cut gently.
"I know enough."
Reina remained silent—but her posture conveyed respect now.
Kel continued.
"You could have compromised."
"You did not."
"You could have sold influence."
"You did not."
"You stand alone at the top of a declining tower."
"And you are still standing."
Silence deepened.
Arna's hands lowered slowly to his sides.
His aura shifted.
Not in power—
In resolve.
"You speak as if you believe in this tower."
"I do."
"You have been here less than an hour."
"Yes."
"And yet you speak as if its survival matters to you."
"It does."
Arna's amber eyes burned faintly now—not with anger.
With something else.
Determination.
"And what do you gain from its survival?"
Kel answered quietly.
"A future where we stand on the same side."
The simplicity of it stripped away all artifice.
Reina's fingers tightened slightly over her lap—but she did not speak.
Arna turned slowly and walked toward the window.
He stared out over the gardens and smaller towers.
Students crossing bridges.
Junior mages entering research halls.
The architecture remained magnificent.
The spirit—fragile.
Behind him, Kel remained seated calmly.
Not pressuring.
Not demanding.
After a long silence, Arna spoke without turning.
"You are either a fool."
A breath.
"Or the most dangerous kind of strategist."
Kel's reply was quiet.
"Perhaps both."
A faint, almost involuntary smile touched Arna's lips.
He turned back slowly.
"Very well."
His voice carried more weight now.
"We will draft the contract."
He stepped toward his desk again, pushing aside old papers with renewed focus.
"The tower will retain one hundred percent of potion profits."
He looked directly at Kel.
"But you will not remain an outsider."
Kel's gaze remained steady.
"I never intended to."
Arna extended his hand across the desk.
"Then as Tower Master of the Twin Magic Tower…"
His posture straightened fully.
"I accept your investment."
Kel rose from his seat.
He stepped forward.
And clasped Arna's hand firmly.
The grip was not ceremonial.
It was equal.
Reina watched silently.
Two boys.
Both young.
Both carrying burdens far beyond their age.
One holding spirals beneath his spine.
The other holding a tower that refused to fall.
Outside—
The sun broke free of clouds.
Light poured across the gardens.
And inside a cluttered office at the summit—
A dying flame found fuel.
Not charity.
Not pity.
But investment.
And the first brick of revival settled quietly into place.