"Syryn, do you take us for fools?"

"You do know that we can verify the results of your work so why are you lying?"

Syryn was done playing dumb. The avians had been allowed to sleep long enough and now, it was time for them to wake up to reality.

"Does anybody want to make a bet with me?" His violet eyes scanned the audience with anticipation for what was to come.

The curious avians wondered what Syryn was up to now. "What bet?" Someone asked.

"If my potions are judged to be better than his," he pointed to the other alchemist who was still busy brewing, "then I get your heart feathers. At least the ones of those of you who dare to bet with me." The twist of his lips drew an unfriendly smile that ridiculed the avians. "What do you say, avians?"

Nervous laughter echoed in the amphitheatre. The avians were feeling the anxiety begin to creep in. Heart feathers were precious things that could not be bought or traded for gold.

"Don't be ridiculous, Syryn. Heart feathers are serious matters and should not be involved in children's games." It was meant to sound like he was coaxing the teen but it drew Syryn's ire towards him.

"Children's games, you say? Do you mean to imply that I'm a child?" His aura had changed. Gone was the playful and friendly Syryn. It was replaced by something more insidious. Syryn's softly asked question sent goosebumps down the backs of the avians who were in hearing distance.

"I- "

"Weren't you telling me to join your household? Do you screw children?" Syryn cocked his head to the side while pinning the man with his eerie violet eyes.

"Fine, I'll wager my heart feather," an avian came to the rescue of the other one. "What are you staking then? If it isn't of equal value, the bet is off."

"I stake myself," Syryn replied without a hint of concern for what he was implying. "A veritable slave to your every desire. You can have me till my last breath leaves my body."

The teen's gaze took in the sharp intake of breaths and the shocked faces. This was his bait, a very tasty one. Would the lechers take it? Could they pass up something so delicious? After all, it was the richest and the noblest ones that did the worst things behind closed doors.

"How dare you suggest something so vile? We would never participate in such degeneracy!"

"I stake my heart feather! Just for the principle of it!" An outraged avian yelled out.

"Me too!"

"I don't believe that an immoral foreigner like you would have the ability to defeat our alchemist."

"If you lose the bet, you'll have to scrub the floors in my mansion every day."

"Make him bow and scrape to you."

"Hah! The brothel will have use for such a pretty boy. You can have my heart feather for now." The man who spoke was unshakeable in his belief that Syryn was bluffing. His performance so far had been clumsy and unprofessional. There was no way that the unheard-of teenager could beat their middle-aged and experienced alchemist.

Syryn's wicked heart was filled with glee and it reflected in his sadistic smile. "Ah yes, let's first collect your heart feathers then. It's only fair, isn't it?"

A ripple of anxiety uniformly spread through the minds of the avians. Heart feathers were too precious to be staking on stupid bets but their pride was also at stake here.

"Allow me to pass you the ingredient basket. Just put your feathers in there," Syryn said to the audience and carelessly tossed it into the crowd. "We don't have time to waste so make it quick."

While they waited, Syryn beamed at Utsui but the avian had a dark look on his face. He frowned at Syryn and looked away. So cute, Syryn thought, Utsui was mad at him again.

It was a slow paced collection. The avians were very reluctant to part with their polished heart feathers for even a second. But the reward that dangled before them - to capture the butterfly and possess it - was too much of a temptation. Syryn had stoked the flames of their pride into a fire that torched their rationality.

"Let the basket remain in the hands of someone impartial and uninvolved," an uneasy avian told Syryn.

"How about handing it over to Altaire then?" The alchemist suggested. He would have nominated Utsui but Syryn did not wish to implicate the young man who would inevitably end up handing over the basket to him. Syryn hadn't known him for a long time but it had been enough time to recognise the strength of Utsui's integrity.

"Accepted," a low and magnetic voice sounded from behind the mask.

A tiny jolt of happiness struck Syryn's heart. He wasn't going to be delirious with joy, he told himself. "I thank you, then." He turned away coolly, as if his heart wasn't drumming with excitement. Now that Altaire was cooperating with him, the avians would be hard-pressed to object when push came to shove.

"Are you done? How long am I supposed to wait?" Syryn asked the middle-aged man. "You're so slow."

"Unlike you, I'm making a real potion. If you're hurrying me so that I mess up my own work, you'll find that it won't work on me," the alchemist replied to Syryn with indignation.

"Ah.. So boring." The teen looked into the man's cauldron. It was a decent potion. He was at least getting to the end of his brewing.

"How should we test our work then?" Syryn asked the crowd just to keep himself entertained.

"Master Altaire, this unscrupulous young man might try to pull the wool over our eyes. Please help us verify the potion's worth." It was the man who had asked Syryn to join his household.

"Why bother him?" Syryn was now in front of his work table, leaning against it and examining his nails for deposits that often stained the nails of all practising alchemists. He always kept his fingers perfectly clean and free of stains. "Allow me to display the effects of my potion and you will be convinced of how talented I really am."

"Shameless."

"I dont know where he gets his confidence from. Foreigners never cease to surprise me with how bold they are."

Syryn turned back to look at the middle-aged man. "Can't you see? Your potion is already letting out fumes. Put the rest of it inside."

"That's not how it's done-"

"Forget it." Syryn strode over to his cauldron began to siphon half of the bubble bath potion in a shallow glass dish. "I can't wait for you to finish so I'll just go ahead and play with mine."

The teen held his prize and jumped off the stage to head over to where Utsui was seated, still wearing a dark expression.

"Do you like bubbles?" Syryn asked the young man.

"I don't like bubbles." The answer came out curt. Utsui was showing his cute temper.

"Don't be like that, Utsui," Syryn leaned over and tutted. "Help me make bubbles."

Bubble bath potions had one effect, to burst into bubbles when they came in contact with water. From such a small amount of potion, one could expect thirty to fourty bubbles. It wasn't anything dangerous or alarming to use in an enclosed space.

"Fine," Utsui relented.

Syryn held out the test tube and waited for Utsui to put in a few drops of water.

"Really, we're just here to watch children play," someone grumbled.

A few of the avians who had given up their heart feathers were beginning to feel the stirrings of dread. Syryn was too confident, too sure of himself. The fact that he was willing to display the effects of his potions meant that it worked. In such a turn of events, they had to pin their hopes on the middle-aged man.

"Ah!" Utsui exclaimed softly. A hundred bubbles fizzled into being and began floating around them like iridescent spheres of glass. Some bubbles were larger than melons, while others were the size of grapes. The potion kept fizzling on and on untill thousands of bubbles were filling the space under the ceiling.

"Syryn," Utsui's eyes met violet ones that were smiling at him. "You're really an alchemist." His gaze was filled with appreciation.

"I am best at alchemy," Syryn whispered soft enough only for the young avian to hear. "It is what I love most."

The sweet smile that turned the shape of Syryn's eyes into cute half-moons melted away the serious demeanour of the young avian. He smiled back at Syryn, happy that he wouldn't have to see the teen enslaved by the lechers. And when Syryn placed the glass dish in Utsui's hand, their fingers touched. Utsui did not hate it.

"Do you see? Do you see how amazing my bubbles are?" Syryn loudly proclaimed. His bubbles had put the fear of Syryn into the hearts of the lechers and naysayers.

"It's a trick! How can such a tiny amount of potion produce so many bubbles?!"

"Yes, it's unheard of!"

Unbeknownst to the avians, a thin lacework of ice began to form over the surface of the bubbles. The temperature in the room dropped and the icy balls plummeted on the heads of those avians who had been calling it a trick.

"Eh?" Syryn raised his brows. "Who did that?"