21. If It Bothers You, Then Don't Do It

"Come on in, Seria."

The double doors to the drawing room creaked open.

And in that instant—

Sha-la-la— a subtle fragrance of lavender and rosemary filled the room.

Barnes halted his steps toward the exit and sniffed the air.

"Wh-what's this scent?"

He turned his head, and his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"...Gasp."

Seria stood at the doorway. Not in her usual training clothes, but in a white dress. But the dress was just an accessory. The real star was her hair.

Sunlight streaming through the window shattered against her black locks. Like a galaxy poured from the night sky, her jet-black strands gleamed dazzlingly. Each and every hair shimmered with a living luster, and even the angel ring halo effect crowned her head clearly.

"Y-Young Master. Do I have to keep this up? My neck hurts."

Seria tilted her head slightly with a grumble. Her hair swayed like silk with the motion.

"I-Is that... human hair?"

Barnes couldn't close his mouth. Drawn like a moth to flame, he approached her.

"This sheen... this gloss... By the gods, it looks softer than the finest silk!"

As Barnes reached out to touch it, Seria shot him a frosty glare. He flinched and pulled back.

"This is the effect of our Martel Special Herb Shampoo."

I explained proudly.

"Unlike regular soap, it doesn't leave your hair dry and brittle. It cleans away scalp buildup while nourishing the strands to make them silky smooth. The scent is just a bonus."

"Y-You mean... anyone can get hair like that using this?"

"Of course. Even broomstick hair turns into elastin heaven."

"Ela-what?"

"Anyway, it's a total game-changer."

Barnes's eyes changed. I could see the gears turning in his head. The capital's noble ladies. The imperial women who staked their lives on hair care. Bring this to them? He'd name his price.

"Baron!"

Barnes grabbed my father's hand like he was about to drop to his knees.

"I spoke out of turn!"

"Wh-what? Is that so?"

Dad looked bewildered.

"The Gold Wheel Merchant Guild will buy the entire stock! No—grant us exclusive distribution rights! We'll pay 100 gold coins upfront... no, make it 200!"

"Two hundred coins?!"

Dad's eyes went wide. Two hundred gold would make running the territory a breeze. He wavered, on the verge of shouting "Deal!"

But I snorted.

"Hmph."

"...Huh?"

Barnes glanced at me warily. I picked up the shampoo bottle from the table and turned it this way and that.

"Mister. Two hundred? You joking? Take this to the capital, and you'd charge a gold per bottle easy."

"Ahem! Th-that's retail! Wholesale's different, right? Distribution costs, advertising..."

"Whatever. We'll call another guild. Heard the Silver Wing crew's in the next territory over."

"W-Wait! Three hundred! Three hundred it is!"

Barnes shouted desperately. I stared him down, then grinned.

"Let's see the contract first."

"Right, right! Hold on!"

Barnes pulled out parchment from his robes and scribbled furiously before handing it over. I took the contract and read it carefully.

Dad murmured beside me, "Three hundred coins... my god..." lost in happy delusions.

But I was different.

"Ha."

A hollow laugh escaped me. Hand over the recipe? A 50-year slave contract? This guy really thinks we're country bumpkins.

"Branch Manager."

"Done reading? Just sign here, and the gold's yours..."

Riiip— I tore the contract in half.

Barnes's eyes bulged. Dad's jaw dropped. Only Seria nodded like she'd expected it.

"Wh-what are you doing?!"

Barnes shrieked. I folded the halves together and ripped again. Then I scattered the shreds in his face.

Flutter, flutter. White paper snow fell.

"Branch Manager. You think I'm a sucker?"

"You insolent brat!"

"Recipe transfer? Hundred-fold penalties? Fifty years?"

I smiled coldly.

"Save that garbage slave contract for stray dogs. Oh, even our territory's mutts wouldn't touch it."

"Y-You'll regret this! Insulting the Gold Wheel Merchant Guild?!"

Barnes's face turned beet red. He clenched his fists, trembling.

"Your territory won't import a single grain of salt or sack of flour from now on! Don't you know I control the northern trade routes?!"

Now threats. Classic sleazy merchant tactics. Dad paled and tried to intervene.

"K-Kalian! We can't make enemies of a guild..."

"It's fine, Dad."

I stood and faced Barnes head-on. Short as a ten-year-old, but my presence matched his.

"Enough with the threats. You'll be the one regretting it, mister."

"What?"

"This stuff? Developed for imperial supply. Heard the princess is fretting over her hair."

Total bluff, of course.

"...The imperial family?"

It landed. Barnes's eyes shook.

"Was gonna hand it to the imperial guild, but Dad needed quick cash, so I gave you a shot. Oh well, if you're out."

I beckoned Seria.

"Seria, pack up. We're heading to the capital tomorrow."

"Understood, Young Master. Offer this to the princess, and we'll snag a knighthood at least."

Seria played along perfectly. My partner through and through.

"W-Wait! Hold on!"

Barnes panicked, blocking my path. Imperial guild involvement? Gold Wheel wouldn't just lose a hit item—they'd fall from imperial favor. And if it blew up at court? He'd be the idiot who kicked away a golden goose, fired by the guildmaster.

"L-Let's talk! Must've been a misunderstanding!"

Barnes's attitude flipped 180. He grinned obsequiously, rubbing his hands.

"Contract not to your liking? We can fix it! What terms do you want? Name it—anything!"

Jackpot. I feigned reluctance and sat back down.

"Fine. Let's renegotiate. But my way this time."

I pulled out fresh parchment and twirled the quill with a wicked grin.

"Brace yourself. My pen has no mercy."

Barnes gulped. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Now the real fun began.

-

"Alright, new deal?"

I spread a fresh sheet on the table. Barnes dabbed his brow with a handkerchief, swallowing dryly.

"Your terms...?"

"Simple. Win-win."

I dipped the quill in ink and continued.

"First: No recipe transfer."

"B-But to meet demand, our workshops need to..."

"Don't worry about supply. We produce everything in our territory, deliver finished product."

Non-negotiable. Beyond preventing leaks, it created jobs for our people. A shampoo factory would boost the local economy.

"Qu-quality control...?"

"I guarantee it. Defects? We pay ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tenfold."

I cut him off firmly. Barnes smacked his lips but nodded.

"Fine. Profit split... standard 5-5...?"

"7-3."

"Pardon?"

"We get 7, you get 3."

"Impossible!"

Barnes shot up, face flushed.

"That's robbery! We cover distribution, transport, ads—and only 30%? No business ethics?!"

"Didn't you toss ethics with that slave contract?"

I retorted coolly.

"Do the math. Production cost per bottle's peanuts. Sell to capital ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ladies? Gold a pop, easy. 30% is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still a fortune."

"W-Well... but..."

"Not interested? Silver Wing it is. They'd bite at 8-2."

"Urk!"

Silver Wing. Gold Wheel's rival and nemesis. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠At that name, Barnes's face soured. Better swallow the loss than hand it to them.

"...Fine. 7-3. Hah, you're heartless."

He slumped back, like swallowing mustard through tears. Dad gaped silently: '7-3?! My boy's insane!'

"Last condition."

"There's more?!"

Barnes wailed.

"Relax. Good for your guild too."

I smiled leisurely.

"Our territory's staples. Flour, salt, sugar, fabrics."

"Y-Yeah, we supply them."

"All at cost."

"...Pardon?"