CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36- YOU’D BETTER BE TELLING THE TRUTH

The tension in the air didn’t vanish when Kaidren stopped talking — it simply shifted, like a storm cloud lingering just beyond the horizon.

Logan leaned back in his chair, arms folded, his sharp red eyebrows furrowed as his gaze stayed locked on Kaidren. "Again... You’re telling me," he said slowly, "that what’s in that bottle... isn’t normal?"

Kaidren, still composed despite the skeptical edge in Logan’s tone, gave a short nod. "That’s right," he replied, his voice steady. "This isn’t something you’d find in nature. It stopped being a ’natural liquid’ the moment I finished making it."

Logan’s lips curled into a small, mocking scoff. "A blatant lie if I’ve ever heard one," he said, leaning forward just enough for the light to catch the faint smirk at the edge of his mouth. "If it’s so unusual, prove it. Words without proof are just air."

Kaidren didn’t flinch at the provocation. His gaze held firm, unreadable. Without another word, he reached for the green bottle resting beside him. The glass caught the faint glimmer of light in the room as he lifted it carefully, almost reverently, into his hands.

Presenting it as though it were a rare artifact, he said, "This... is my personal creation."

That word — personal — made Logan’s eyebrow twitch. He leaned slightly forward, curiosity tempered by doubt. "Personal creation, huh? Go on."

"I call it a potion," Kaidren continued.

Logan interrupted, raising a hand. "On what basis do you call it a potion?" His tone wasn’t mocking now — it was the tone of someone who wanted every brick of the wall explained before believing it could stand.

Kaidren’s gaze flickered, an almost imperceptible sign that he found the question tedious. "Honestly?" he said after a heartbeat’s pause. "Because it sounds cool. And it feels like the right match for what it is."

Logan’s fingers pressed against his eyebrows, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Continue, Kaidren."

Kaidren’s expression didn’t shift — the interruption rolled off him like rain on glass. "I call this particular one the Potion of Weakness."

Logan’s fingers stilled. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his focus sharpened. The word weakness pulled his attention like a hook. "If it’s really yours to make," he said slowly, "then tell me — if I remember right, glyphs and scrolls can weaken opponents. Some natural liquids can too, though they come with side effects like diarrhea and only a mild weakening effect." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So what’s so special about your... potion?"

Kaidren met his stare without hesitation. "The special thing about this Potion of Weakness is that it’s simple to make. I only need fifteen ingredients, costing roughly nine hundred AUR. Compare that to the years of study and piles of materials needed for glyphs or scrolls."

He continued, his tone as casual as if he were describing a cooking recipe. "No one has to learn from a library of over a thousand books on glyph or scroll making. It’s just a matter of heating mixed herbs, certain monster parts, and a few natural liquids for six to ten hours. And the effect..." Kaidren paused, almost as if deciding whether to share it. "...is no joke. I tested it myself. It dropped me instantly."

He didn’t mention that he was an esper — that particular fact stayed locked behind his calm gaze.

Logan arched an eyebrow, but his mind was already running calculations. Outwardly, he only tilted his head. Inwardly, thoughts clicked together like gears.

If Kaidren wasn’t lying... then this was revolutionary.

Logan had been married long enough to his wife, an economist, to have absorbed more economic realities than most non-espers cared to. And one reality she had impressed upon him was this: glyph and scroll making had stagnated for years.

He remembered her explaining it over dinner, her tone heavy with frustration. The global population had passed eleven billion, and over twenty-five percent of that were espers. More espers meant more professions related to esper abilities will be taken, and glyph and scroll making was among the most sought-after — not just because of its utility in battle, but because of the prestige that came with mastering it.

But there was a problem.

Only awakened nexarion users could create glyphs and scrolls, no matter the tier. And while that narrowed the field to those gifted enough, the real bottleneck was passion and endurance. It was one of the hardest professions to master — the knowledge spanned centuries, compiled into sprawling tomes that could fill entire academies.

That same vast knowledge was a curse. Thousands of processes, countless procedures, all to produce glyphs and scrolls of specific types. Even the most determined youngsters burned out after years of study, often without creating anything truly new.

And because of that, there hadn’t been a significant discovery or innovation in decades.

He could still recall the irritation in his wife’s voice when she told him how most young people had lost interest entirely. It wasn’t hard to see why — why spend decades learning something so complex when the payoff was uncertain, and the work unforgiving?

To make matters worse, there had been no industrial breakthrough for producing glyphs or scrolls with machinery. Every single one was still crafted by hand. That scarcity, combined with rising demand, had pushed prices higher year after year.

Logan had cursed about it more than once himself. Not because he and his wife were espers — they weren’t — but because he understood the importance of those items in keeping people alive. Strengthening and weakening glyphs could decide the outcome of a battle against monsters or during a terrorist attack. And without enough makers... there simply weren’t enough glyphs to go around.

If what Kaidren said was true — that he could make something with a powerful weakening effect using a process anyone could learn, without a nexarion, without decades of study — then this "potion" could reshape the entire system.

He leaned back, staring at Kaidren, weighing his words carefully. "You’re asking me to believe," Logan said slowly, "that you’ve found a way to bypass centuries of tradition and training with... this." His eyes flicked toward the green bottle.

Kaidren didn’t answer right away. He simply held the bottle a little higher, letting the dim light catch the faint swirl of its contents. His calm was unshakable, and that, more than anything, made Logan hesitate.

Because if Kaidren was lying, he was doing it flawlessly.

________________

________________

Logan sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, eyes locked on Kaidren. The faint glint in his gaze was difficult to read—part curiosity, part suspicion.

He leaned back slightly, his voice casual but carrying an undertone of calculated intent.

"So... again... if what you’re saying is true, can you actually demonstrate it? Show me that these... potions of yours actually work?"

The words hung in the air, heavy but measured. Logan’s tone wasn’t aggressive, but the skepticism in it was undeniable.

Kaidren didn’t speak right away. Instead, he simply gave a slow nod, as though the request were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His movements were unhurried as he reached for one of the jars. The glass was cool under his fingers. He twisted the lid.

Pop.

The sound was sharp in the quiet room, followed almost immediately by a burst of scent—an intense, layered herbal aroma that rolled out like invisible smoke. It was the kind of smell that seemed to push its way into the nostrils and settle deep inside, refusing to leave.

Logan’s brows furrowed, his head instinctively tilting back a fraction. He raised a hand and began waving it slowly in front of his face, trying to stir the air between him and the jar.

"—I wasn’t expecting that much smell," he muttered, voice edged with mild surprise. He glanced at Kaidren. "You’re not bothered by this?"

Kaidren looked at him, expression unreadable.

"Not that bothered... anymore."

The way he said it—flat, almost dismissive—made Logan pause. Anymore. His eyes narrowed slightly.

So... Kaidren had already dealt with this smell before, long enough for it to lose its effect on him. Logan silently filed that detail away.

Seconds ticked by. Kaidren’s gaze drifted down to the jar again, then back to Logan. There was something slow and deliberate about the way his mind seemed to work in moments like this. Finally, he spoke.

"I don’t have a proper way to demonstrate it."

Logan let out a low breath through his nose, leaning forward. "Then what do you expect me to do with that? If you can’t prove its legitimacy, there’s no way you’re getting the loan."

Kaidren said nothing at first, his eyes focused on the middle distance as though weighing possibilities in silence. Then, in the same calm tone, he asked:

"...Would you be willing to be the one to test it?"

The words didn’t land right away. It took Logan a second—two seconds—for the suggestion to fully register. His back straightened, his composure cracking into visible disbelief.

"Are you nuts?" His voice rose sharply, the word cutting through the room like a whip. "That’s a blatant threat!"

But Kaidren didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes steady.

"If I take a taste of it, will you take a taste next?"

"Absolutely not." Logan’s rejection was instant, almost reflexive. "And if you keep asking me to drink anything from that jar, I’ll call the Guardians to escort you out of here and make sure the higher-ups at Aegis Bank ban you from setting foot in this bank again."

The warning was clear, sharp, and final.

Kaidren didn’t argue. He simply lowered his gaze, his thoughts moving beneath that still exterior. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

A couple of minutes passed before he spoke again.

"Then... would it be fine if you can brought a test dummy? Even an insect would do."

Logan blinked at him, almost amused despite himself. Persistent, he thought. Annoyingly so. But beneath that persistence, there was something else—a stubborn confidence that made him hesitate to dismiss the idea outright.

"Why not just demonstrate it yourself?" Logan countered, his tone cool but curious.

Kaidren looked up, his voice as flat as ever.

"Even if I was the one who took it... would you actually believe it worked? If you saw me lying still in this seat, would you think the potion took effect, or would you just assume I’m good at acting?"

Logan leaned back again, eyes narrowing slightly at the logic. He didn’t reply right away, letting the thought turn over in his mind. Eventually, he gave a slow nod.

"...Fine. I’ll have one of the Guardians on the first floor bring a rodent—or an insect, if that’s all they can find."

Without waiting for Kaidren’s response, Logan reached under his desk and slid open a drawer. The soft scrape of wood against metal filled the air. From inside, he retrieved a slim, dark phone—sleek, official-looking, the kind that wasn’t meant for casual use. He unlocked it with a practiced swipe and began typing with minimal noise, his expression unreadable.

Kaidren remained seated, his eyes following the movements without comment.

"Thank you," he said finally, his tone not warm but genuinely acknowledging the effort.

Logan didn’t look up from the phone.

"You’d better not be lying to me. If you are, the consequences will be a lot bigger than losing a loan."

Kaidren’s reply was simple, unshaken.

"I won’t disappoint."

Logan’s gaze lifted then, just for a moment, meeting Kaidren’s with an unreadable mix of caution and calculation. Then he went back to his phone, the low hum of the overhead lights once again filling the space between them as the air carried the lingering trace of the potion’s smell.