The fluorescent lights of the Alchemy Lab hummed, a monotonous drone that mirrored the rhythm of Ethan Blackwood’s life. Sixteen years old, and already he felt like a relic, a discarded textbook gathering dust on a forgotten shelf. He gripped the handle of his industrial-strength vacuum, its roar a familiar comfort, and surveyed his domain. Today’s target: the Advanced Potions Lab, a chaotic monument to bubbling beakers, stray ingredients, and the occasional explosion.

Blackwood Academy for Arcane Arts. The name itself felt like a cruel joke. Prestigious, renowned, a breeding ground for the magically gifted. And here was Ethan, the glorified floor-sweeper, the invisible man who navigated its hallowed halls after the students had retreated to their dormitories, leaving behind a trail of arcane residue and existential angst.

He switched on the vacuum, its powerful suction immediately devouring a particularly tenacious dust bunny that dared to cling to a stray vial of shimmering, iridescent liquid. He navigated the maze of lab tables, each cluttered with arcane paraphernalia: alembics and retorts, mortars and pestles, jars filled with pickled… something. He didn't want to know what those somethings were. He'd learned long ago that curiosity in this place was rarely rewarded.

He was halfway through vacuuming under a table littered with dried herbs and what looked suspiciously like dragon scales (probably synthetic, though the Academy spared no expense on authenticity), when it happened.

It started as a flicker, a subtle distortion in his vision. He blinked, thinking it was just the fatigue, the endless cycle of cleaning and polishing taking its toll. But the flicker persisted, growing brighter, morphing into… something else.

Suddenly, superimposed on his reality, was a heads-up display, an augmented reality interface that looked like it had been ripped straight out of a video game. Numbers swam around his peripheral vision, flashing stats he didn’t understand. A bar labelled "Experience Points" was stubbornly stuck at zero. And right in the center of his vision, bold and impossible, was a shimmering blue rectangle:

**NEW QUEST: Clean the Alchemy Lab**

*Objective: Remove all dust and debris from designated area.*

*Reward: Minor Healing Potion Formula, +1 to Alchemy (Beginner)*

Ethan froze, the vacuum cleaner whining pathetically in his grip. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them furiously, and opened them again. The interface was still there, mocking him with its impossible clarity.

"What the…?" he muttered, his voice barely audible above the hum of the machinery.

He wasn't prone to hallucinations. He didn't do drugs (unless you counted the occasional caffeine overdose induced by late-night scrubbing). He was, in fact, spectacularly ordinary. So what was happening? A rogue experiment gone awry? Some kind of Academy prank, designed to torment the janitor?

He dismissed the prank idea. The Academy professors, while eccentric, rarely engaged in such overt displays of humor. They were far too busy dissecting mandrakes and arguing about the philosophical implications of transmuting lead into gold.

He looked around, expecting to see hidden cameras or smug faces peering from behind bubbling cauldrons. But the lab was deserted, silent save for the whirring vacuum and the persistent hum of the fluorescent lights.

He cautiously reached out a hand, his fingers passing right through the shimmering blue rectangle. It felt… real, but intangible, like trying to grasp smoke.

"Okay," he said aloud, his voice trembling slightly. "This is either the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, or I'm finally losing my mind."

He looked back at the quest. *Clean the Alchemy Lab.* It seemed ludicrous, utterly absurd. But the promise of a "Minor Healing Potion Formula" and a +1 to Alchemy (whatever that meant) was strangely compelling.

He sighed, a mixture of disbelief and nascent excitement bubbling within him. What did he have to lose? It wasn't like his life could get any more mundane.

He finished vacuuming the lab, paying extra attention to the corners, meticulously wiping down the lab tables with a disinfectant spray. He even polished the brass fittings on the alembics, something he usually skipped unless explicitly instructed.

As he finished the last table, a triumphant chime echoed in his ears, and the blue rectangle flared brightly.

**QUEST COMPLETE: Clean the Alchemy Lab**

*Reward Granted: Minor Healing Potion Formula, +1 to Alchemy (Beginner)*

The interface shifted, displaying a new message:

**Alchemy (Beginner): 1/100**

*Knowledge: Basic understanding of potion brewing principles.*

He had no idea what that meant, but it felt… good. A small thrill, a tiny spark of something new igniting within him.

Then, a new window popped up, displaying a complex formula, a series of symbols and ingredients he didn't understand but somehow… recognized. He scrolled through it, the information sinking into his mind with unsettling ease. He knew, instinctively, what each ingredient was, how to prepare it, and the precise order in which to combine them.

He stared at the formula, his mind reeling. He'd spent his life cleaning up after alchemists, but he'd never shown the slightest interest in the art itself. Now, suddenly, he possessed knowledge that should have taken years to acquire.

The interface faded slightly, becoming less obtrusive, but still present, a constant reminder of this bizarre new reality. He cautiously reached out and tapped a small, stylized icon depicting a bubbling potion bottle.

A new window opened:

**Alchemy Recipes (Beginner)**

*Minor Healing Potion (Learned)*

Below it, a list of ingredients appeared: Dittany, purified water, a pinch of powdered unicorn horn (seriously?), and a drop of phoenix tears (impossible!).

Ethan groaned. Even with this newfound knowledge, actually brewing the potion seemed… challenging. Where was he supposed to get phoenix tears? The Academy budget probably didn’t stretch that far.

But the seed had been planted. The mundane routine of Ethan Blackwood, janitor, had been disrupted. He looked around the now-sparkling Alchemy Lab, no longer seeing a place of drudgery, but a laboratory of possibilities.

He switched off the vacuum, its roar silenced, replaced by the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the insistent whisper of destiny.

He had a potion to brew. And somehow, he knew this was just the beginning. He felt different, like a piece of software was installed. Something powerful.

He grabbed his cleaning supplies, a strange lightness in his step. As he walked out of the lab, the AR interface followed, a constant companion, a silent promise of adventure, of power, of a life beyond dust bunnies and endless scrubbing. He knew the Headmaster didn't like him, this could potentially be a very bad predicament for Ethan, or this could potentially be something good.

He glanced back at the door of the Alchemy Lab, a faint smile playing on his lips. Blackwood Academy might be prestigious, renowned, a breeding ground for the magically gifted. But it was about to get a whole lot more interesting. Especially for its janitor.