Just as Syl was about to stab the Fear Bayonet into her wrist again, her left hand, which was holding the knife, suddenly stopped.
Syl's left hand trembled incessantly as if she had Parkinson's disease. She struggled to loosen her grip, letting the bayonet slide down her palm until it fell to the ground, where it plunged straight into the wooden floor.
"Whew..." Syl panted as she looked at the bayonet on the ground, her expression a mix of shock and uncertainty.
This fear effect... for the clown card, it was a complete stimulant. The more fear there was, the more Syl felt every pore in her body blooming with pleasure, a refreshing sensation rushing from her spine straight to her brain.
Moreover, the deeper she fell into this state of pleasure, the Clown—which she could previously control reasonably well—would immediately fall into a state of being on the verge of losing control at any moment.
If she truly allowed the Clown to continue like this, the Clown might, in pursuit of this ultimate pleasure, literally slice itself to death, piece by piece.
Fortunately, now that she was on guard, she wouldn't fall for it again.
Taking a deep breath, Syl bent down, gently pinched the bayonet on the ground with her thumb and middle finger, and slowly placed it on the table.
At the same time, Syl poured the remaining bayonets out of the box and carefully counted them; there were six in total.
"Next is the Potion... but first, let's look at the notes." Syl took out the notes, spread them on the desk, and sat down at the desk.
With her back straight and movements gentle, if one ignored the terrifying makeup on her face, she looked like an elegant young lady.
However, with the addition of the clown makeup, every action Syl took that leaned toward being normal was actually more spine-chilling the more normal it appeared.
"Hmm... Table of contents, table of contents... Ingredients... Oh, spells... One needs to consume a Potion to learn spells?" Syl murmured as she read the contents of the notes. As she looked further, her brow furrowed.
"The Potion my mentor gave me belongs to the first rank of the Possessor Pathway, [Scribe]. As long as one successfully digests the Scribe Potion, even without consuming subsequent Potions, a Scribe can rely on training their inspiration to learn magic of various ranks..."
The description of this first rank felt more and more like the First Saint Rank mentioned by the Church the more Syl read it.
The difference was that the Church called it a Holy Medicine, while this group of mages seemed to call it a Potion. Also, the Church's method involved taking three bottles, whereas the mages' method was one bottle to get it done... and at the first rank, one could use all magic through training?
Syl temporarily suppressed the doubts in her heart and continued reading.
While her right hand turned the pages, Syl's left hand had somehow reached toward the bayonet, stroking the blade as if caressing a lover, though she did not self-harm as she had before.
Syl had gradually figured out a way to control the clown card.
Blindly resisting and suppressing it didn't have much effect. Instead, it was easier to first immerse herself in the role, perform some actions consistent with the character's behavior, and then exercise restraint... This was a little trick she had figured out.
"The method to digest the Potion... according to what the mentor said yesterday, follow the Potion's ravings, practice the Potion's whispers, and still maintain one's self—that counts as successful digestion... It sounds quite simple. I wonder if my girlfriend back home is doing well. After I finish learning magic, I'll go back and get married."
The notes cut off there, leaving one to wonder whether he successfully returned to his hometown or if the digestion failed and he collapsed into madness on the spot.
But Syl's attention wasn't there; she was completely captivated by the method of digesting the Potion.
"Follow the Potion's whispers?" Syl murmured, unable to understand.
Because what the Church taught her was to resist all the whispers of the Holy Medicine, as those were trials given by the Goddess.
Could it be that these two types of medicine are completely different in nature?
Or... one medicine has two digestion methods, and using different methods to digest it results in completely different pathways?
Syl felt as if she had vaguely grasped something, but it couldn't withstand careful scrutiny—she had too few clues in her hands.
There was definitely something fishy going on, but it wasn't something the current Syl could explore.
Moreover, Syl didn't even know how many pathways existed in this world, let alone study these things now.
Syl shook her head and closed the notes in her hand.
For now, Syl decided not to drink this bottle of Potion and keep it in her hand.
First, she didn't know if she could withstand the combination of the character card and the Potion's ravings after drinking it.
Second, between the Doctor and the Clown, Syl didn't know which one was more suitable for this Potion.
If she drank the wrong one, Syl knew even with a clown's brain that one body definitely couldn't choose another Potion to drink again.
After putting down the Potion, Syl took out her pocket watch and checked the time.
It was already five-thirty. The sun was gradually fading, and twilight was about to envelop the land.
"I'm hungry..." Syl crossed her long right leg over her left, the tip of her brown leather shoe lightly tapping the leg of the wooden table.
"Increase synchronization... inquire about Bonsandi... fill my stomach..." Syl quickly decided on the things she needed to do today. She reached out to brush the hair that had fallen over her forehead back and then stood up.
To be safe, Syl transformed back into the Doctor while inside the room, placed the Potion and notes on the Doctor's person, and then changed back into the Clown.
It seemed that items identified as Syl's possessions could be stored into the cards along with the character. This was a convenient little use of the system that Syl had discovered.
After tidying her bright red suit slightly in front of the full-length mirror, Syl looked at the makeup on her face and frowned slightly.
This makeup isn't suitable for investigating... and I can't run around as the Doctor, lest I end up stitching together a few more unknown things.
Walking to the washroom, Syl began to wash the makeup off her face with plain water.
Muddy water mixed with white, red, and green colors slid down Syl's hands and into the sink.
After a difficult cleaning process, the Clown's true face finally appeared in the vanity mirror in front of Syl.
Her high nose bridge and prominent cheekbones made her look extremely aggressive, yet her emerald green eyes looked so peaceful. With her casual hairstyle, distinct clothing style, and height of nearly 1.8 meters, anyone thinking of the words 'heroic' and 'valiant' would surely think of her.
If one were to use some playful terms from Syl's previous life, they could better describe this cool look of hers.
A Human Wrench.
This was a face that men might feel nothing for or even be jealous of, but most girls would yearn for. It reminded Syl a bit of a celebrity from her previous life, Kristen Stewart. But clearly, the Clown looked a bit more wicked.
"So, System, is your low charm rating given from a male perspective?"
Syl lightly curled the corners of her mouth and spun around on her tiptoes in front of the mirror.
As long as she was good-looking enough, Syl was already very satisfied.