14: This Quirrell has two faces

[Dear Mr. Kasenhis, keeping all your money with you is not ideal in this world filled with magic...]

A second later, Kasenhis made his decision. A flame block appeared in his hand, reducing the letter to ashes.

In that brief moment, he had already figured out what the letter was about.

Just another promotional gimmick—advertising a Gringotts vault.

And for him? Completely useless. Honestly.

After dealing with the "personal" mail, he left his office and made his way to the staff lounge.

First, it was livelier there. Sitting alone in his office was beyond dull.

Second, Professor Sprout's cookies were waiting!~

They were rich with creamy sweetness, perfectly balanced, and left you craving more after just one bite.

As soon as he stepped into the lounge, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, who were deep in conversation, noticed him immediately. They waved him over enthusiastically.

"You really made waves with your first class," Flitwick said, sliding the cookie tray toward Kasen. "Neither Minerva nor I could focus during ours—students kept asking if Charms or Transfiguration could produce gold like yours."

"Ahaha," Kasen picked up a cookie and took a bite, savoring it as he replied, "If my class disrupted your lessons, I sincerely apologize. But, to be honest, I'm kind of proud. I never imagined my first lesson would go so smoothly. My brand of alchemy isn't even traditional—it's more unorthodox than the most offbeat methods."

"Your first class went wonderfully," Flitwick reassured him. "The most important thing is that you sparked their interest. Learning a subject you have no enthusiasm for is like marrying someone you don't love—pure misery. In that regard, you've absolutely hit it out of the park."

"Yes, tomorrow I have a fourth-year class," Kasen nodded. "I need to teach them actual knowledge, not just distract them with gold for a whole lesson."

"That's the consequence of not preparing a lesson plan," Professor McGonagall added pointedly.

"Okay, I swear I won't do that again. I promise, Professor."

"Good to hear."

The three of them chatted for a while longer, until an odd smell began to waft into the room. 

Garlic?

Oh, no doubt about it—it was garlic.

And with it, the patron saint of garlic himself, Professor Quirrell, entered the room.

In an instant, McGonagall suddenly remembered she had students' assignments to grade, and Flitwick miraculously recalled that he needed to update his lesson plans—probably under McGonagall's insistence, of course.

This left Kasen sitting alone, trapped like a helpless puppy, unsure whether to stay or flee, as the pungent garlic aroma enveloped him.

"Kasen... Pro-professor," Quirrell stammered as he sat down, looking sheepish. "I'm... glad to see you... you didn't run away."

"Why would I run?" Kasen replied, forcing a smile. "Besides, I eat garlic sometimes too, like with barbecue."

"Th-thank you for... for understanding me," Quirrell said, visibly delighted.

"It's nothing," Kasen replied, his tone even. "Every person is unique. You don't need others to understand you to be complete. You can still be a great person on your own."

[+10 Favorability from Quirrell]

Quirrell nodded earnestly. "Yes... exactly. That's... exactly it. Oh, by the way, I came here... here to see you about something."

"Oh?" Kasen tilted his head curiously.

"I heard that you... you can transmute gold," Quirrell stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "I'd... like to see how you... do it."

Although Kasen couldn't quite figure out why Quirrell was so curious about this, he didn't press the matter. After all, he had no right to question someone's personal interests or reasons.

Without much thought, he casually picked up a stray quill from the coffee table. Pinching it between his fingers, a swarm of microscopic golden cubes surged forward, infiltrating every fiber of the quill.

Like squatters overtaking an empty house, the gold cubes displaced the original materials, breaking them down into particles that dissipated into the air.

What remained was a gleaming, solid gold quill.

"You.. you really t-transformed an ordinary quill into.. into gold"

In truth, it wasn't so much a "transformation" as it was a "replacement." While not entirely accurate, the latter term better captured the essence of the process. Quirrell watched the entire process unfold before his eyes, utterly dumbfounded.

"Here!" Kasenhis placed the golden quill in front of him.

He reached out with trembling hands to pick up the now-golden quill. 

"It's... it's really incredible," Quirrell stuttered, his voice trembling with awe. "How... how is this even possible?"

"You didn't use... magic? Or the Philosopher's Stone? And this isn't... mercury, either?"

Kasen shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps it's just talent."

[+10 Appreciation from Voldemort]

The moment the notification popped up, Kasen froze, mid-smile.

Did… did he read that correctly?

Voldemort?

He blinked hard and stared at the message again, as if it might disappear. But there it was, plain as day. The Dark Lord himself had expressed appreciation for him.

"...Ehhh…"

Kasen's thoughts scrambled as he instinctively glanced around the room. The large professor's lounge, usually bustling with activity, was eerily quiet. The required-subject professors were, unsurprisingly, busy with their packed schedules, and even the elective-subject professors were either immersed in their magical experiments or off doing Merlin-knows-what.

Which left… just him and Quirrell.

Just the two of them.

In this vast, empty lounge.

Kasen swallowed hard, his eyes flicking toward the man across from him. Quirrell sat there, seemingly at ease, admiring the golden quill in his hands, the faint sheen of its polished surface reflecting the dim light.

But Kasen's mind screamed.

Could it be…?

No, that doesn't make sense. That couldn't explain the notification… or could it?

As Kasen processed everything, he couldn't help but notice another notification — Quirrell's favorability had also increased.

So that's how it is, Kasen thought grimly.

Staying composed, he discreetly directed tiny, nearly imperceptible micro-blocks throughout the professor's lounge, letting them scan the area thoroughly.

Alright, no invisibility magic at play here. Scratch that possibility off.

That meant the unassuming, stuttering Quirrell sitting across from him had a very literal two-faced nature.

Kasen took a sharp intake of breath, contributing a solid puff to global warming.

Quirrell, however, seemed none the wiser. Finally, he spoke again, his words punctuated by that incessant stutter. "P-Professor Kasen, y-you wouldn't h-happen to know h-how to make a p-proper Philosopher's Stone, w-would you? Your al-alchemy... it's—remarkable… not any w-weaker than Nicolas Flamel's."

"Ah, you flatter me," Kasen deflected smoothly. "I'm just someone with a bit of talent—not anywhere near Flamel's level. I wouldn't dare make the comparison."

"D-don't sell yourself short," Quirrell insisted, his tone growing slightly more insistent despite the stutter. "Y-you're younger. Th-that alone… makes you far more p-potentially capable."

Kasen's smile was tight. "Well, I appreciate the sentiment."

Quirrell shifted his gaze back to the golden quill in his hands, clearly entranced. "I… c-can I—?"

"Of course," Kasen interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Keep it. It's yours. No problem."

"Th-thank you. Truly… you're very… generous," Quirrell said, clutching the golden quill tightly.

Kasen watched as Quirrell left the professor's lounge, his movements quick and purposeful. The moment the door closed behind him, Kasen waited another five full minutes before letting out the breath he'd been holding.

Phew~!

Fuck!

Then, without missing a beat, he left the lounge and made a beeline for Dumbledore's office.

Standing before the two stone gargoyles guarding the entrance, he cleared his throat and said, "Cockroach cluster."