No. Way.

I couldn’t move. This was more than I thought I could ever experience. When was the last time I felt such a rich, mixed cocktail of emotions?

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re staring.” Her hair fell in front of her eyes, and she pulled it back again. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I shook my head. “No—no! Sorry! I was just shocked. Wow, what a surprise… right?”

Her smile widened just a touch, and she let out a chuckle like she was expelling the tension from her chest.

“Forgive me. I know I shouldn’t have come in like this… But I was in the area and I just thought…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

I spotted the one chair in the room and pulled it up.

“Do you want a seat?”

She hesitated a little, then shook her head and offered a polite smile. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “You looked busy.”

I looked around at the very visible piles of dust, mystery stains, and something bubbling in a cracked beaker that I was probably responsible for due to my manic tear-down of the place.

“Nope. This is just a normal day. I assure you.”

She smiled—shy and small—but incredibly heart-melting. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear again, and for a moment, we just stood there in the kind of silence that made me wonder if we were thirty-somethings, or teenagers.

This was so unreal. Not only was I in this world, standing in front of one of my favorite characters, but she knew the alchemist, who I now was.

Of all the things, I started the new life with a pre-existing connection. I wasn’t starting from level one with Elsbeth—I had progress.

Internally, I was doing flips.

I’m in. I’m in! She already trusts me! I’m not some stranger off the street—I’m her friend! Her childhood friend!

Was this hidden somewhere in the game? A piece of lore suggesting the alchemist and Lady Elsbeth had a connection like this? This is like the childhood friend route with how it’s set up. Couple that with the fact that the Lord goes crazy and kicks off the invasion, along with Elsbeth’s cryptic, but suggestive lines, this must be a route where the alchemist saves her from her evil husband.

How did this come about? Did the devs intend for this in the game?

“Honestly,” she said, looking at the counter like she was gathering her words, “I came by because… I thought I could handle seeing you again after so long.”

“I’m glad you did,” I replied, without thinking too much.

She cracked a smile and spoke in a low tone. “Is it strange, Timmie?”

Before I could answer—or say anything that could relieve her of her worries—the front door creaked open again.

“Thought I smelled smoke. Blow up something again, Timaeus? Hope you didn’t burn yourself.”

That voice was familiar. I’d recognize it anywhere. I turned to the doorway.

There she was, a tall, muscular woman in blackened trousers and a brown tank, a strap of tools across her shoulder and grease on her heavy-duty gloves.

Meredi the Blacksmith.

I must have been catching flies with how open my mouth was. Her scarred right eye was still shut tight, her left one sharp and full of dry amusement. Her voice was as husky as the voice line in the game.

“So, playing with dust and broom while in the presence of sneaky nobility?” she said, shooting a glance at Elsbeth. “Heh, should I come back later, Timaeus?”

Elsbeth shook her head. “No, no, you’re not interrupting anything, Miss Meredi.”

Meredi chuckled and shook her head. “C’mon, kid. You don’t got to call me that when you’re the Lord’s wife.”

“But… it feels wrong to call you anything else,” Elsbeth kindly replied.

I just stared, unable to make sense of their relationship.

And then it hit me again—a tidal wave of memories that belonged to this character. Quiet dinners in a cluttered workshop. Meredi pulling a hot pan out of the oven with one hand and tapping my knuckles with the spoon in her other. The smell of metal and roasted vegetables. A firm hug and the smell of oil in her hair.

“Mom?” I asked, my voice cracking.

The word had just slipped out—so naturally, like the memories had rewired my tongue before I even had a chance to second-guess it. Meredi was my stepmother. With me—the alchemist—since I was thirteen or so.

Meredi’s response, though—it caught me by total surprise.

Meredi blinked. Her expression shifted. She froze mid-step and stood there, silent. A little grease smudge darkened her cheek, her mouth half-open like she was about to respond and forgot how.

Then—slowly—she looked away, scratching her temple with the back of a gloved hand.

“You’ve never called me that before,” she muttered.

Her voice had dipped low, almost lost beneath the clink of a few precariously placed potion bottles shifting on the shelf. She still wasn’t looking at me.

This tough, scarred, wall-breaking, scrap-welding blacksmith—this woman with shoulders like iron beams and arms that could swing a hammer through a wall—she fidgeted nervously.

“I mean… yeah,” she mumbled, trying and failing to sound casual. “I’m your mom. I guess.”

She cleared her throat. Loudly. Twice.

I didn’t think I could love this woman more.

Was it possible for a woman that muscular to look adorable? The way her single eye darted to the side, the way she wiped nonexistent sweat from her brow, trying not to smile—it was cosmically cute.

This wasn’t fair—I was just a husk of a man a day ago, and now I was being put in front of these goddesses? I was undeserving, but so grateful.

I opened my mouth to say something, and then the door creaked open for the third time.

There was a thought in my heart of hearts—

No way. I can’t be getting this lucky.

“Oh, wow. Who died in here?” came the smoky, playful voice. “Smells like a rotten explosion. You get pranked again? Or did you screw up your prank?”

I was sure I heard the sound of coins rubbing together.

“Looks like someone’s going to need more ingredients,” said the third visitor—Ravela. She casually walked past Elsbeth and Meredi and sat on the chair I had pulled out. “Thanks, Tim. My feet were killing me.”

She wore a high-collared leather coat, tight black corset peeking from beneath it, dark auburn hair swept to one side with that unmistakable white streak slashing down like a lightning bolt. Her lips curled into a slow, amused smirk as she eyed the room—and us.

“Who would have thought I’d see you here, Elsbeth,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Should I have brought drinks?”

My brain short-circuited. Again.

More memories hit me like a blunt alchemy flask to the face.

Late-night arguments between sisters over borrowed tools. Ravela sneaking in through the side window with bruises and treasure. Her voice cutting through the smoke of the forge like a whip, telling me not to trust every merchant in the lower layers. Her laugh echoing in the shop as she enticed me into buying rare ingredients she brought up from the depths. The way she’d look at Meredi with that mix of concern and mischief.

Ravela was Meredi’s sister, which meant… she was my step-aunt.

Holy shit.

What was this dream scenario?

Elsbeth, Meredi, Ravela—all three of them were connected to the alchemist NPC?!

I gasped. One more memory resurfaced, but it was mine. It was what the woman who evacuated me to this world said.

“Hold your wishes tightly.”

No way. Did my wish to be able to romance these three put me in the body of the NPC with the best shot at doing that!?

If so, I wasn’t going to give this life up for anything. So if I wanted to hold onto this life, a question needed to be asked.

“Hey,” I said, drawing the eyes of the three women. “What year is it? And no, Ravela, stop looking at me like that. I’m not crazy. I just drank a strange potion.”