Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece Chapter 35 35: The Silent Coup [4]

Now he had a na.

But, nas were useless without details. Kyle needed to know where Veylan got his coffee, how much he ordered, and when it arrived.

He waited until midweek, when the academy's supply clerk—a chatty elf nad Jorin—was sorting through delivery manifests in the pantry's back office.

Kyle "accidentally" bumped into him near the doorway, sending a stack of parchnt scattering.

"Sorry about that," Kyle said, crouching to help gather the papers.

Jorin sighed but didn't seem annoyed. "No harm done. Just the usual Monday chaos."

Kyle kept his tone casual.

"Must be a pain keeping track of all the special orders. I heard Professor Mourncrest's coffee cost more than most student's monthly allowances."

Jorin snorted. "Two pounds of Blackfire beans, every Monday morning. Like clockwork." He leaned in, lowering his voice.

"And the bastard charges it to the research stipend. Cheeky, if you ask ."

Kyle grinned like they were sharing a joke. "Priorities, right?"

But inside, his mind raced.

'Every Monday. Two pounds.'

That was enough for about fourteen cups—two a day, exactly matching Veylan's routine.

****

Kyle stared at the small burlap sack stamped with the black fla logo, sitting neatly on his desk.

He had placed the order for Blackfire Roast beans just yesterday, fully expecting to wait at least a week—maybe longer, given how rare they were.

Blackfire beans were imported from the volcanic highlands of Eldrin.

Even with the academy's connections, they usually took at least five days to arrive.

Yet here they were.

Two days later.

He picked up the bag, examining the seal.

No mistakes.

This was the real thing.

'How?'

The academy's supply clerk had grumbled last week about backorders and noble buyers hogging shipnts.

Kyle had ntally prepared to wait for week.

But now?

He frowned, turning the bag over.

'Too convenient.'

****

Princess Eleanora D'Argent sat in her private quarters, a cup of honeyed tea cooling beside her as she skimd through a letter.

The parchnt bore the wax seal of the Argent Empire's Trade Guild—a privilege of her royal bloodline.

"Your requested shipnt of Blackfire Roast has been expedited per your instructions. Two pounds, as specified. Should arrive at Solvayne by tomorrow evening."

She set the letter down, her expression unreadable.

She hadn't planned to interfere.

Not directly, at least.

But when she had overheard Kyle inquiring about the beans at the academy store—his tone carefully casual, his questions just a little too specific—she had known.

'He's making his move.'

And if there was one thing Eleanora understood, it was the value of timing.

So she had acted.

Not as the princess.

Not even as a student.

Just a shadow pulling strings.

She had sent a discreet missive to the Trade Guild, invoking an old favor.

No explanations.

No records.

Just a simple request:

"Prioritize this order."

And just like that, the beans had been plucked from a noble's delayed shipnt and rerouted to Kyle's doorstep.

She sipped her tea, her lips curving slightly.

'Let him wonder.'

Eleanora leaned back in her chair, gazing out the window.

She'd done her part.

Now?

She'd watch.

And wait.

****

Kyle wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers stained dark from crushed herbs and powdered minerals.

The private workshop was silent except for the faint hiss of simring liquids and the occasional crackle of mana-infused flas beneath glass beakers.

On the table before him lay three key ingredients:

Duskthorn Petals – Delicate purple flowers that induced drowsiness in small doses.

Silverroot Extract – A bitter, silvery liquid that purified tainted mana.

Blacksalt – A rare volcanic mineral that stabilized potions but, when combined with the other two, beca a slow-acting poison for anything with a demonic core.

These ingredients were easily available in the Alchemy Shop in Valtheras City.

He had read about this formula in the novel "Path of the Transcendence"—a forgotten alchemy recipe used by demon hunters centuries ago.

The protagonist, Cedric had uncovered it in the late novel.

The first attempt had ended in a small explosion, leaving his sleeves singed.

The second had produced a foul-slling sludge that ate through the glass vial.

Now, on his third day, Kyle adjusted the fla beneath the crucible, watching as the Duskthorn petals dissolved into a shimring violet liquid.

"Step one: distill the essence under low heat until translucent."

He rembered the novel's instructions like a mantra.

Next, he added the Silverroot extract, drop by drop, stirring counterclockwise with a bone-white rod. The mixture hissed, emitting thin tendrils of smoke that slled like burnt iron.

"Step two: combine with Silverroot, but never let it boil."

His hands were steady, but his pulse wasn't. One wrong move, and the concoction would destabilize—or worse, alert the academy's alchemy sensors.

Finally, the Blacksalt.

He ground it into a fine powder, then sprinkled it into the mixture. The liquid darkened, swirling like ink in water before settling into a deep, murky indigo.

"Step three: let it solidify into crystals."

He exhaled, leaning back.

Now ca the waiting.

Hours later, the liquid had evaporated, leaving behind tiny, dark-blue crystals—each no larger than a grain of sand.

Kyle carefully scraped them into a vial, holding it up to the light.

"Got you."

This was the slow poison.

Harmless to humans.

Deadly to demons.

When ingested continuously for week, it would seep into the demonic core, fraying its stability over days. The victim would grow irritable, reckless, their control slipping until their true nature.

All without a trace.

Kyle pulled out the bag of Blackfire Roast beans he had acquired—thanks to a stroke of luck he still didn't understand.

The beans were oily, their smoky aroma strong enough to mask almost anything.

He crushed the blue crystals into a fine powder, then dissolved them in a small amount of moonflower oil—just enough to coat the beans without altering their taste.

Then, thodically, he stirred the mixture into the bag, ensuring every bean was lightly glazed.

"Two cups a day" he mused.

He sealed the bag, leaving it to dry.

Now, he had find a way to switch it with Veylan's stash.

And then?

He would watch.

And wait.

****