albedo

For several days, no one had seen Albedo, either at the Ordo Favonius headquarters or at his camp. Even Sucrose had been unable to locate the teacher. Only by chance did you manage to locate him high in the mountains, on a cliff where people almost never go.

He sat on the very edge of a cliff, watching the snowstorm. A closed notebook, sword, and duffel bag lay nearby—as if he had no intention of going anywhere else.

Hearing the footsteps, Albedo calmly said without turning around:

— …I knew that sooner or later someone would come.

His voice was even, but unusually empty.

"You know... I've always tried to understand why I exist. I looked for answers in alchemy, nature, people... But the more I learned, the clearer one thing became."

He was silent for a few seconds.

"If I were gone tomorrow, the world would continue to exist as it does today. Someone else would finish the experiments. The paintings would eventually disappear. All the conversations would be forgotten."

He looked at the snow-covered valley.

— So... is there any point in continuing to do anything?

The pages of his notebook contained no formulas or plant sketches. Instead, they contained short reflections—questions about purpose, the value of knowledge, and why a person continues to live at all when they lose sight of purpose.

For the first time in a long time, Albedo wasn't looking for a scientific answer. He wasn't looking for proof or theories, but for an honest conversation.