「Early in the morning, at Dr. Fabric’s house.」

His wife was preparing breakfast.

"How’s your color Magic Vision Device coming along?"

"Not well." Dr. Fabric had deep, dark circles under his eyes and was mechanically tapping his head lightly against the table.

’He didn’t know why he was doing it. The pressure was probably getting to him.’

The pressure wasn’t coming from the Zog Group’s assignment.

Zog had given him a strict order, but the deadline was generous. Research and development wasn’t something you could just do on command.

Besides, the bonus he’d received for the black-and-white Magic Vision Device alone was enough for him to live comfortably for the rest of his life.

Fabric’s anxiety stemmed mainly from his dissatisfaction with his own lack of results for so long.

After the Magic Vision Device took off, he had regained his confidence for a while, believing he still had some talent after all.

However, as time went on, that confidence was slowly eroded away.

’What was that term again? Key Performance Indicator.’

For the better part of the last year, his performance had been among the worst in the development department.

His main work consisted of making minor, trivial optimizations to the original Magic Vision Device.

His efficiency couldn’t even match that of the new young hires.

He was almost forty; he simply couldn’t keep up with the recent graduates, those young men and women.

Scientific research was also a field where youth held an advantage.

The portraits of the great scholars hanging in Pelen Tower all depicted them as old and dignified.

In reality, they had made their major achievements in their twenties and thirties; it just took decades for their research to become widely known to the public.

Great scholars weren’t as noble as people imagined. Aside from their intellectual gifts, they were no different from anyone else. Some had high moral standards, while others had low ones.

Take the current director of the research institute, for example—the inventor of the steam piston engine and author of *Principles of Analysis*. His achievements were outstanding, but he was an old academic tyrant who loved to suppress dissent and abuse his power for personal gain.

"What’s for breakfast today?" Fabric asked.

Compared to the baffling problem of the color Magic Vision, he decided to focus on the more immediate question: what to eat.

He could smell an unfamiliar, fragrant aroma coming from the pot, one he had never smelled before.

"Organ porridge. It’s porridge made with pig organs," his wife answered.

"Huh? That smell is from pig organs? Why didn’t you buy some better meat?"

’We used to buy organs as a substitute for meat when we were poor. Why are we still eating this now that we have money?’

"We don’t have to be so frugal anymore."

Fabric thought his wife was reluctant to buy more expensive food.

Organs weren’t exactly a delicacy. They were quite cheap because of their gamey taste that was difficult to get rid of.

’They say spices can cover the gaminess, but spices are much more expensive than meat. With that kind of money, why not just buy good meat?’

"It’s not about being frugal. Don’t you know that families of Zog Group employees are allowed to buy spices grown by Druids? The price is much cheaper than on the market. There’s a new thing called white pepper, and it even came with a matching recipe," his wife explained.

"Oh, alright." Fabric took the bowl of porridge, still skeptical.

The aroma was very different from his memory of pig organs.

He knew his boss, Zog, loved to experiment with all kinds of food. Every time a new spice was launched, a corresponding recipe would be released with it.

Most of them were good, but there were a few baffling creations.

Take the one called ’Spicy Diced Chicken,’ for example. Good heavens, it was like searching for chicken amidst a whole plate of chili peppers. One bite made your entire face feel like it was on fire, like you were about to breathe flames.

Ever since then, he had been cautious with Zog’s new recipes, never daring to take a big bite right away.

He scooped up a small spoonful of the porridge and slowly brought it to his mouth.

Seeing the expectant look in his wife’s eyes, he had already decided that no matter how bad it tasted, he wouldn’t spit it out. That would be too discouraging.

"Hm?" Fabric grunted in surprise.

It was dozens of times better than he had imagined. The porridge was thick and smooth, savory and rich. The organs dotted throughout provided a wonderful texture, making the experience even more complex.

’This is really good.’ He scooped up another large spoonful, not noticing the steam wafting from the porridge.

"Careful, it’s hot!" his wife cried out nervously.

"AH! PFFT—"

She was too late.

「Half an hour later.」

Fabric arrived at his laboratory with medicine smeared on his tongue.

"Goo morhing," he mumbled, greeting his colleagues.

"Mentor, what happened to you?" a newcomer in the lab, one of his trainees, asked in confusion.

Fabric decided not to speak anymore. It hurt his tongue just to talk.

He quickly wrote on a piece of paper, *Burned my tongue.* Then he showed it to his student.

"Oh? Are you alright? Don’t you need to take the day off?" the student asked with concern.

*It’s fine*, he continued to write. *I have an appointment with the Paladin at noon for treatment.*

Every department in the Zog Group was equipped with healers who provided free treatment for minor injuries to employees.

Aside from the enviable salary, the benefits of this job were unparalleled elsewhere.

It was just that the laboratory’s healer was a bit busy. All sorts of strange accidents happened in this building every day—a boiler exploding here, a beaker catching fire there.

And then a few more rules would be added to the *Laboratory Safety Guidelines*.

That Paladin didn’t just provide healing; he also offered massages. His arms, with their 40-centimeter biceps, were incredibly strong—perfect for the sedentary crowd in the lab.

’Maybe I can get a massage during the healing session,’ Fabric thought.

He began to organize his desk, preparing to officially start his workday.

’The test tube rack goes in the front right, first position. The flame lamp goes second, front right. The crucible on the left...’

It took him fifteen minutes to arrange all his equipment with obsessive-compulsive precision.

He had always believed that neatness, order, and precision were the foundation of invention and creation.

’I can’t for the life of me understand how Yuno manages to design so many things, cooped up in that messy laboratory of theirs.’

Fabric’s specific job would seem incredibly tedious to most people.

He had to test the properties of a vast number of basic materials to find one that could display a sufficient range of colors.

It was no different from the work of a goblin tightening screws in a production workshop—just mechanical repetition.

’Oh, wait, I forgot. Those goblins aren’t tightening screws anymore. They’ve put on white lab coats and entered the laboratories too.’

’Their performance is much better than mine.’

This testing had been going on for nearly two months, and he had already tested several thousand different fluorescent materials, both single and mixed.

Some could emit one color, or even several, but none of them could meet the requirements for a color Magic Vision Device.

Nevertheless, he recorded the properties of all these fluorescent materials, just in case they were needed in the future.

After doing it for a while, he had actually grown to like the work. It was tedious, yes, but it was highly structured, just like his desk.

In the past, Alchemy was done by following old books, trying one thing after another on a whim.

Now, Alchemy was done according to project plans, methodically and systematically.

’It’s still better than the old way, isn’t it?’

The morning passed quickly—another half-day without finding the target material.

He looked up and stretched his stiff neck. He had been staring at the fluorescent materials for so long that his vision had become blurry.

Suddenly, he saw a blurry, colorful image in front of him.

He rubbed his eyes.

When his vision cleared, he saw that it was his student playing a game. The screen was filled with a swarm of red, blue, and green bullets.

’Wait, why does it look different from how it looked a moment ago?’

Curious, Fabric squinted again, and his vision blurred once more. The tri-colored bullets that filled the screen seemed to merge, creating complex and varied colors.

"What are you playing?" Fabric asked.