Chapter 42: The First Secret Plan (6)
Chapter 42: The First Secret Plan (6)
Translation: Godtl
In Britannia, gourmet cuisine was merely a luxury for a few eccentric individuals, far from being a matter of public interest.
But alcohol was a different story.
In this harsh world with few pleasures to speak of, alcohol was one of life's rare joys and comforts, regardless of one's social standing.
The 15% liquor tax per bottle was also an enormous revenue stream the royal family could never afford to overlook, so it was only natural they took a keen interest in the production and distribution of alcoholic beverages.
Among all regions, the North—where people had to battle the bitter cold—was particularly famous for both brewing and consuming copious amounts of alcohol.
While part of it was to endure the harsh winters, the region also benefited from being a treasure trove of abundant ingredients like grains and fruits, essential for brewing all kinds of liquor.
It was precisely for this reason that the tavern district in Litchfield Square, Nortaris, had become one of the kingdom's most renowned attractions.
The first floors of the old stone buildings encircling the square were uniformly lined with taverns, beer halls, or bars, as if by some unspoken agreement.
The establishments competed fiercely, packing the square-side areas with tables and chairs.
Since they served higher-quality liquor at steeper prices than the stalls at the End of the Galley, the place was usually bustling with off-duty low-ranking officials, adventurers, and well-off merchants noisily clinking glasses.
But today was different.
A crowd five times larger than usual had gathered—and every last one of them was drinking cola instead of alcohol.
Rex cursed under his breath.
"What the hell is going on...?"
It defied all logic—mathematically, physically, and by any common sense.
Y&P Trading Company had only one factory, barely capable of meeting 3% of the demand.
Even if they had miraculously completed the second factory they were building at superhuman speed, the most they could manage was 7% to 8%.
Wasn't the entire Berry Mix strategy built around exploiting the massive market gap created by this very limitation?
Cola wasn't some creature that could multiply on its own—so what the hell was happening?
"Move! Get out of the way!"
Shoving people aside, Rex barged into the nearest tavern.
And the sight before him made him forget to breathe.
There, perched on the counter, was a bizarre machine.
At first glance, it resembled a water pump, complete with a nozzle like a faucet.
"Another glass of Draft Cola, please!"
"Coming right up! I'll pour it till it overflows!"
Every time the owner pulled the lever on the nozzle, black cola gushed out in place of water.
The customers cheered as they received their glasses.
"Ahhh! So fresh, so crisp!"
"It tastes different from the bottled stuff!"
"If only my late mother could've tasted this last year before she passed..."
Feeling blood rush to his head, Rex shouted at the owner.
"Hey! Hey! Owner! What the hell is that damn machine?"
"A Cola Dispenser."
Rewinding time to a month earlier, just as Berry Mix's offensive was gaining momentum—
Jurgen had shared his "secret plan" to counter it.
"A Cola Dispenser?"
"Indeed. The first secret plan to herald our counterattack."
Penelope tilted her head at the unfamiliar term.
After glancing at the Cola Dispenser blueprint, she tilted her head the other way.
In alchemy, a dispenser was equipment used to measure and distribute liquids in precise quantities.
But the Cola Dispenser's function and purpose were far from obvious.
"Miss Penelope, what do you think is the most inefficient process in the cola business?"
"Probably the bottling process. It's labor-intensive."
"This dispenser is a slightly evolved version of a soda fountain. It mixes syrup with water and automatically injects carbon dioxide."
"But we're already doing that at the factory. Why make it so small? What's the point?"
"Don't you see?"
"Hmm, wait—let me think. Don't tell me. Didn't I say not to tell me?"
Penelope wore an expression that suggested she was on the verge of understanding.
But judging by her still-furrowed brow, she hadn't quite grasped it yet.
"Ugh, I don't get it."
Well, that was only natural.
In the modern era, beverage dispensers could be found everywhere—fast food joints, buffets, restaurants—but Britannia was different.
Here, it was common sense that all drinks, alcohol included, were distributed in barrels or bottles.
Breaking conventional thinking was no easy feat.
If even the sharp-witted and brilliant Penelope couldn't see it, this would make for the perfect ambush to strike the complacent enemy.
"What if we could skip the bottling process and simplify distribution?"
Penelope, who had been tilting her head side to side, suddenly froze.
"...Are you planning to distribute these so-called 'Cola Dispensers' to retail stores?"
"Exactly."
Once the hint revealed the outline of the picture, the grand vision fell into place like dominoes.
Penelope shot up from the sofa and exclaimed,
"That's it! If stores use dispensers, they can just pour it straight into glasses—no need for bottling! All we'd have to supply is the syrup! One box of syrup could make... what, 200 glasses? Distribution would be so much easier!"
"Precisely."
This was revolutionary.
With just one installation of the machine, they could effectively eliminate entire production and distribution processes.
And if they took it one step further...
"You're not selling cola—you're selling syrup, aren't you?"
Penelope's eyes sparkled with hope.
If they built a factory in the new industrial district—originally planned for the second Lemonade Factory—dedicated solely to syrup production...
And if they supplied that syrup to Cola Dispensers...
By cutting out all the labor-intensive steps and focusing solely on syrup production...
They could multiply their output several times over, far beyond the mere 20,000-30,000 additional bottles they had initially expected.
"Let's make the second factory a syrup plant."
"Sharp as ever."
"Don't act all smug after spoon-feeding me the answer."
Though she grumbled, Penelope brushed away the goosebumps rising on her arms.
The brilliance of the Cola Dispenser system wasn't just about amplifying production and simplifying distribution.
If the core of marketing was "how badly do consumers want the product?"
Then the core of distribution was "how easily can consumers get their hands on it?"
Once Cola Dispensers were installed in stores everywhere, people wouldn't have to wait in line—they could just pour themselves a cola on the spot.
"Pleasure at your fingertips." It was nothing short of a supply chain revolution.
"This could turn everything around in one move. You really are a genius."
But there was one problem.
"...How many dispensers do you even need to make?"
And then...
"So, how many do you need to make, exactly?"
"Well, quite a few... Let's say an initial order of about 100 units?"
"...What? Ahaha, you're so witty... You're joking, right?"
"I'm not joking."
"And the deadline...?"
"As soon as possible."
"A hundred units would require funds..."
"I'll lend it to you later."
"Ah..."
Thus, the hidden backstory was revealed.
The moment Y&P Trading's second factory was completed, it went into full 24/7 operation, churning out syrup at a terrifying pace.
Even skilled workers from the first factory were pulled to support the syrup plant.
The syrup produced this way was then delivered to stores where the dispensers—painstakingly crafted by Serena—had been installed.
The outcome?
A resounding success, of course.
This was Cola—the very drink people had been scrambling to buy, unable to meet the demand, even hoarding it out of sheer desperation.
Why would anyone endure hours of waiting at a direct sales outlet when they could simply stroll into a tavern and get served on the spot?
And for just a single penny per glass, no less.
Draft Cola, as it was called when sold in stores, flew off the shelves like wildfire, emptying the day's syrup barrel by sundown.
"To think we can drink Cola so freely now..."
"Right? Just a while ago, we were making do with Berry Mix."
"This stuff makes the liquor go down smooth. Let's hit up a third round tonight."
"So this murky drink is the North's specialty? Doesn't exactly whet my appetite."
"Hey, mister, you don't know Cola? Then your trip to Nortaris was a waste! Drink up, drink up!"
"Whoa?! Whoooa?!"
"Slaps, doesn't it?"
Whether travelers passing through Nortaris, adventurers from the Demon Realm, or ordinary citizens going about their daily lives—it took just one glass for everyone to fall under Cola's spell.
Meanwhile, the successful rollout of Cola Dispensers dealt a devastating blow to Berry Mix. The market share it had maintained through aggressive low-cost volume sales was being stripped away at a terrifying pace.
"Fuck... Damn Cola, goddamn fucking Cola..."
Rex Salisbury's eyes burned crimson as he yanked at his hair in frustration.
Cola hadn't just stolen market share.
With Cola now available at retail stores, Berry Mix sales were plummeting like mad. In hindsight, it was inevitable.
Customers had only ever chosen Berry Mix as a "substitute for Cola." Back when Cola was hard to come by, they'd grudgingly paid for it thinking, Might as well try the cheap stuff. But now, with Cola just a little effort away, even when faced with Berry Mix right in front of them, they'd think, Why bother?
The biggest problem? Five local production factories had already been completed in Nortaris.
Warehouses beside the once-bustling factories piled up with unsold stock by the day, and within a week of the factories opening, four had halted production.
Shutting down factories didn't eliminate operating costs, either—losses were mounting daily.
"Is this what you called a 'non-issue'?"
"My apologies, Baron Keystone. We had no idea they had this up their sleeve."
"That's precisely why I put you in charge—to check for such things. I didn't hire you to come back beaten by their hidden card and make excuses. If this is all you're capable of, I never should've shared a table with you."
Baron Keystone, who had rushed to Nortaris by train from Golden Hill, delivered this icy rebuke. Though Rex was hot-tempered by nature, he held his tongue this time.
Salisbury Financial had poured massive investments into the Berry Mix factories. Believing it was a race against time, they'd even injected extra funds to expedite construction.
Surrendering now would mean catastrophic losses. At the very least, they had to hold out stubbornly until Y&P Trading proposed a truce. But he couldn't do it alone.
"We need your help, Baron Keystone."
"Help? Listen, Rex. I trusted your big talk and suffered heavy losses myself. I'm the one who should be whining for compensation, and yet here you are, trying to squeeze more out of me?"
"The same goes for me. My own blood and money went into setting up those local factories. None of them are running properly now."
Rex's voice turned frigid as he murmured, "I've got eyes too. So what's your point?"
"...I'll wield the blade myself. But I'll be the one gripping the hilt."
"Hahaha, you're truly a madman. You were the one who told me how Brighton ended up dead. And now you want to follow in his footsteps? If you want to stick your head under a wagon wheel, do it alone."
"N-no, I have no intention of targeting the Rosemores."
"I'd heard rumors that the Nortaris Mafia was dirty, but seeing you today confirms it. I have no interest in getting my hands dirty with such methods."
Baron Keystone's expression turned grave as he cut him off sharply.
"Sell off the idle local factories and settle for modest gains. It's not like there's zero demand for Berry Mix."
"Doesn't it pain you to see all that dumped inventory go to waste? Are you really willing to swallow such massive losses? We should fight like men!"
"We already fought, and I was soundly defeated. Rex, a real man knows when to concede. In any case, I'm washing my hands of this now."
Rex was seething with fury.
While this loss would make Salisbury Financial stagger, for Keystone Company it was merely a fraction of their operations.
In fact, outside of Nortaris, Berry Mix still held a clear advantage.
It would take ages for Cola to make inroads there, no matter what.
No wonder Baron Keystone could afford to remain so composed.
In other words, even if their joint venture collapsed, Rex would be the only one crushed beneath the wreckage.
"Damn it all!"
After Baron Keystone left, Rex packed his belongings in a fit of rage.
He couldn't let it end like this.
He would take the risk and contact the Jet Black Group in the Labyrinth Demon Realm directly.
This time, he would either properly abduct Serena and extract the core technology, or kill that commoner by her side to intimidate Penelope.
He would show them the power of brute force.
Rex infiltrated the Demon Realm through unofficial channels and headed straight for the Jet Black Group's hideout.
"Frank! Frank! Where are you?!"
Using the mangrove roots as stepping stones, Rex shouted the names of his contacts at the top of his lungs.
"Shoebill! Harlock! I am Rex Salisbury, 8th seat of the Board! I am your patron! Show yourselves now!"
But there was no response.
Rex felt a growing unease.
No matter how lax the discipline of these outlaws was, such a loud commotion should have elicited some reaction.
Yet the swamp was eerily silent beyond what was natural.
Only the bubbling of the mire and the occasional rustle of dead branches in the bleak wind.
Clenching his jaw, Rex quickened his pace toward the Jet Black Group's headquarters.
And soon, he came face to face with it.
Bloodstains and the foul stench of decay everywhere, traces of a fierce battle, and a mountain of half-rotted corpses.
And the thoroughly destroyed altar of the Cult.
The Jet Black Group had been annihilated.
"Damn it all...!"
Only now did he understand.
Why there had been no word from the Jet Black Group.
How Serena had returned unharmed after disappearing.
The traces of this horrific massacre overlapped with the image of Penelope, who had come threatening him first thing in the morning.
'No need for long speeches.'
'Give Serena back.'
'Return her now, and I'll pretend this never happened.'
Rex had scoffed at her threats, and this was the price.
A cold sweat trickled down his spine.
The muggy swamp air now felt like the biting cold of winter.
He had gravely misjudged the situation.
Penelope Rosemore.
She possessed the violence to wipe out an elite criminal organization—one that included a priest of the Cult—in a single morning.
And the cunning to willingly become an object of ridicule just to conceal such power.
That was the kind of existence she was.
He was going to die.
Rex felt her grip closing around his nape.
Vividly. So very vividly.