"Don't worry. The color is conspicuous, but in red wine, it's undetectable," the shopkeeper explained patiently, noticing Moen's concern.
"Moreover, compared to its minor flaw of being obvious red, its advantages are far greater. One drop can bring down an elephant."
Moen's eyes lit up. "For real?"
"Of course. You get what you pay for. We run an honest small business, never cheating anyone," the shopkeeper boasted, then extended two overly pale and delicate hands toward Moen and another figure cloaked in black robes. With a cheerful smile, they added:
"130,000 Emil total. No bargaining and no credit, thank you."
"130,000 Emil..."
Moen's lips twitched slightly.
In this world, Emil was the universal currency, with purchasing power roughly equivalent to the RMB from Moen's past life.
At this point, it was crystal clear to him that the shopkeeper's claim of "honest small business" was complete bullshit. What kind of potion could fetch a price of 130,000 Emil?!
Fortunately, being the son of a duke meant that such a sum was no issue for him.
"Would you like to pay by card or cash?"
The shopkeeper rubbed their hands together excitedly. Opportunities to encounter two easy marks at once were rare, so naturally, they intended to bleed them dry.
"By card."
Moen nonchalantly tossed over his crystal card. This type of card, given his status, came with high-level security features, so he wasn't concerned about exposing his identity.
"All set."
The shopkeeper swiftly charged 130,000 Emil, then retrieved a small bottle from a shelf and handed it to Moen along with the crystal card.
"Please take care, young master. This is a little gift for you."
"A gift? What's inside?"
"Heh, every gift deserves a touch of mystery, doesn't it? But I suggest using it together with the potion you just bought—you'll see marvelous results."
"Marvelous results?"
Would it amplify the potion's effects?
Moen frowned slightly. Not knowing too much about magic potions, he didn’t dwell on it and simply stuffed both bottles into his pocket, preparing to leave.
Meanwhile, after taking Moen's 130,000 Emil, the shopkeeper turned their attention to the other figure in the black robe.
"And you, sir? Card or cash?"
"I don’t have enough Emil, nor do I intend to use Emil to pay," the black-robed figure said calmly, in a tone that hinted at danger. Hearing this, Moen instinctively paused and turned a curious gaze toward the stranger.
Could it be that someone dared to commit daylight robbery in a place like the underground black market?
"Oh? Is that so?" The shopkeeper's tone carried a faint chill from beneath the hood.
"Though I don’t have money to offer, I can sell you a piece of information."
"130,000 Emil is no small sum."
"This information is worth every bit of 130,000 Emil."
The black-robed figure handed the shopkeeper a piece of paper. "To certain people, its value might even far exceed that."
"Oh?"
Although their face was concealed, Moen could imagine the shopkeeper curiously raising an eyebrow at this moment.
"Interesting."
The shopkeeper took the paper, quickly read its contents, and for a brief moment, Moen felt the air grow unnervingly still.
"My, my. This is indeed something."
The shopkeeper looked up at the black-robed figure, their tone now carrying a trace of gravity.
"Are you certain this information is accurate?"
"Whether it's accurate or not, someone with your abilities can easily verify it."
"…You really trust me, huh? As you said, this information is indeed worth 130,000 Emil."
The shopkeeper casually tossed the potion to the black-robed figure. "Take it. It's yours."
The black-robed figure caught the potion and, as usual, turned and left without another word, efficient and cold like a machine.
Moen, who hadn’t quite grasped the situation, stared at the paper in the shopkeeper's hand out of curiosity.
What kind of information could be worth 130,000 Emil?
"Oh? Young master, are you interested in this piece of information as well? How about I sell it to you while we're at it? Seeing as we're becoming regular customers, I'll even give you a discount—only this price."
The shopkeeper raised nine slender fingers to indicate a number.
"90,000 Emil?"
"Hehe, young master, you can really jest. At 90,000 Emil, my shop would go bankrupt."
The shopkeeper paused before continuing:
"900,000 Emil."
"…"
Moen’s lips twitched again. Ignoring the shopkeeper, he turned and walked away.
Trying to sell him overpriced potion-laced information and then demanding 900,000 Emil?
No doubt about it—the shopkeeper was a full-fledged swindler.
…
"My, my. This is truly something," the shopkeeper murmured, gazing at the paper even after Moen had left.
The disguise of their hood had long since been removed, revealing willow-shaped brows raised high as though stirred by an invisible breeze.
"Tomorrow was supposed to be nothing more than the coming-of-age ceremony for Campbell Duke's good-for-nothing son. But now, with this piece of information revealed, things might get quite interesting indeed," they pondered aloud.
"Now then, who should I sell this to? The second prince seems like a promising buyer. After all, he's never been fond of his accomplished younger sister. For someone of his rank, asking for two million wouldn't be excessive."
"And then there's old Duke Raymond—he’d certainly be intrigued by this as well."
"My, oh my. Making a profit from both sides. I really am devious, aren’t I?"
The shopkeeper rested his cheek with a hint of annoyance, yet there was a captivating smile on their lips that could make one's heart flutter.
"After all, there's no rule that information can only be sold to one person, right?"
…
"Young Master Moen."
Upon returning to the Duke's estate, Moen ran into Anne, who had just returned from her tasks.
"How did the matter with the maids go?"
"Handled. The head maid will be hiring replacements overnight, and adjustments to the shifts have been made. No staffing issues tomorrow."
"That's good. With so little time, thank you for all your hard work," Moen said with a nod.
"No, it's our fault for not making adequate arrangements in the first place. Forgive us for troubling you, young master." Anne bowed deeply in apology.
"There's no need for that. This was what I'm supposed to do."
Moen waved his hand, signaling for Anne to stand upright.
"You should also get some rest. There won’t be much time for it tomorrow."
"But I still need to serve you, young master..."
"There's no need. I’m not some child who needs tending to every little thing. Besides, I plan to rest early tonight."
Before Anne could respond, Moen turned and headed toward his quarters.
Tonight, he preferred solitude. The burdens he had to bear were his alone and should not be shared by any others.
"…"
Left standing in place, Anne watched as Moen's figure slowly receded into the distance. The perplexed look in her eyes grew deeper and more profound.
"How strange," she murmured, biting her lip absentmindedly as she lost herself in thought.
Unnoticed, her lip began to bleed, the red staining her pristine maid's uniform. Yet she remained oblivious, staring unblinkingly at Moen’s retreating figure until he vanished from sight.
"Young Master Moen, when did you become this gentle?"
