As quickly as humanly possible!

Bloop.

The alchemist stares at you, and you stare back at him.

"What part of 'slowly' did you not understand?"

"I was nervous!" you protest. "You kept going on about all these crazy things, how could I be calm?"

He sighs and rubs his temples. "Whatever. For science, I suppose. Well, how are you feeling?"

You stop and take stock of yourself. "Um. Calm? I feel a lot calmer. Is that normal?"

He nods. "Yeah, that's usually what happens first - if you drink it normally." He pauses for a moment, before casually asking, "So, I want you tell me how you're feeling, at all times. If you started feeling horny, would you tell me?"

You think about it for a second. That'd be sort of weird and private, but it's your fault you drank it too quickly, and the alchemist should know how to handle theses situations, right? "Um, I guess so. Sure."

"Great!" he says, clapping his hands together. "Why don't you get comfortable, take off your underwear, and tell me more about why you came here."

You smile and nod, shirking the cloth and exposing your soft privates before leaning back against the padded bench. You tell the smiling alchemist all about your village, and how much you hated living there. How you wanted to prove yourself as a legendary hero, so that maybe the townsfolk would stop calling you as the "son of that whore" all of the time. As you go on, you find yourself more and more relaxed, to the point that you don't think twice about telling him about the time your childhood sweetheart was swooped off her feet and wedded by some noble's son that rode in on a white horse.

"I think I understand now," Svier says. "Tell me, Roland, have you ever heard of the term 'societal expectations' before?"

You shake your head. "No, but I know what expectations are."

"Right, of course. Well, think of this way, what's a boy 'supposed to do' in your town?"

Well, what a question. "I guess... 'be strong, help out, and protect the village,' or something like that."

"Really? And whose job is this, most of the time?"

"What?" You frown at the repeated question. "The men? Didn't you just say...?"

"Ah! But there's the difference. The men. Not the boys! The men." He straightens up as he speaks, his face sincere. "See, we all expect the girls to be ladies and the boys to be men. They're not there yet, not ready for the responsibilities and respect of adulthood. They must become those adults. In your case, they wanted you to become a man. So tell me... why did you run off to become an adventurer instead?"

You blink in confusion. "What's the difference? Wouldn't I be a man if I proved myself as a fighter? Protected people and served them?"

"Oh, certainly," Svier replies evenly. "But a man would realize he could do that in his own town, in his own home. A boy would run away and pursue dreams he had as a child. You'll find, I think, that many adventurers lack the common sense and maturity that keeps most folks inside city walls and away from dangerous monsters. Why risk your neck when fashioning clothes and steel pays just as well? I'll tell you why, it sounds fun."

You reel from what he says, but you don't have time to take it in, because he's still going. "That's why you're here, Roland. You don't want to be a man. You want to have fun. You wanted to ride off on that white horse. But you also want to be happy! So you took the option that looks fun, but will still earn the respect of those around you. I'll tell you now, though, that being an adventurer isn't fun. It's terrifying, and you're more likely to die than not. That's why we don't send out lads who aren't prepared - or built - for the job. More than that, that respect isn't going to make you happy. There's too much resentment between you and the people you grew up under. You want to know whose example you should've taken note of?"

"W-who?" you stammer out.

"Your mother's. You said she was called a whore, but am I safe to assume she plied the trade?"

"Y-yes, but..." you trial off. Somehow, you feel like you should be protesting this line of thought, but you're so caught up in the whole thing that you can't form the thoughts to do so.

"Well, there you go. She didn't want to be a lady. She wanted to have fun, so rather than try to **** herself into the expectation set up for her, she chose to go so far out of it that people expected something else from her. Sure, they might've said cruel things, but who doesn't hear that? Bankers are greedy, craftsmen are frauds, kings are tyrants, magicians are mad! It's all just jealousy, jealousy of those better off or happier than themselves. I can't think of a better example of human nature than that of the jealous woman watching a popular girl walk by. That's what those insults were, boy. The jealousy of women with less sexual availability then your mother's, and their husbands, whipped into doing the same despite wishing they'd been luckier themselves."

You're stunned by the alchemist's words, whose words ring like a church bell throughout your being. He's right, you know it and knowing it changes something in you. "So... what should I do?" you finally ask, a question as open as you are lost.

"Well," he says, "you're in the city, now. The only expectations you have here are the ones you make for yourself. So, tell me, do you want to be a man? Is that expectation something you're looking to fulfill?"