Roselyn's private lab was a small room attached to the Alchemy lecture practice hall.
To most students, it was nothing more than a storage space. Her senior professors often treated it as one too, filling it with old teaching materials and broken alchemical tools.
Considering how the room was used, it could also be called a warehouse.
But compared to the days when she had to conduct secret experiments in her cramped 70,000 Rend-a-month apartment, this room felt like a luxury.
Back then, she had to deal with nosy neighbors complaining about the smell of potions or the noise from bubbling flasks.
To make matters worse, she had to scavenge for broken tools from garbage heaps and only experiment when the apartment was nearly empty.
Now, she had a place where she didn't have to hide. Now, she had spare tools that were tossed aside by her seniors professors all free for use.
To them, it was unusable. To Roselyn, it was more than enough.
