Episode 32

Clop clop clop.

Rumble.

Ten horses pulled wagons and carts as large as houses into MacLaine Territory.

The deep wheel tracks left in the dirt proved the immense weight they carried.

Though the direction the unfamiliar mercenaries escorting the goods were headed was clear, no one dared approach.

"Ugh, the smell. And we're this far away."

"It's pretty pungent."

"Can dried meat really smell this bad?"

"It's monster meat."

"You mean that..."

"The Grand Prince's eccentricity?"

"There are rumors he drinks monster blood to gain strength..."

"Shut your mouth, you lunatic!"

"Don't say such dangerous things!"

Murmur murmur.

Amidst the hushed whispers, the largest shipment of Karok meat yet arrived at the warehouse.

"As expected, this is the divine timing I foresaw."

"Huh?"

Rick, who had been pinching his nose against the foul stench, looked up in confusion.

"I plan to use what we made yesterday for this."

"Wha—?!"

"You can't carry that barrel, can you? I'll bring it up—you just get things ready."

"Ready for what? I didn't hear anything about this!"

"I'm telling you now!"

"Ugh, do I really have to go?"

"Of course!"

"Waaah! I don't wanna! I really, really don't!"

Since Logan began stockpiling Karok meat, he had never once visited the warehouse himself, so he didn't understand Rick's vehement refusal.

But the moment the warehouse door opened, the reason became painfully clear.

An indescribable, overwhelming stench assaulted his nostrils and punched straight into his brain—far worse than the odor from the carts.

"Bleeegh!"

If Rick hadn't already vomited behind him, Logan might have done the same right then and there.

Ugh.

Only after numbing his sense of smell with aura control did he finally regain some composure.

Rick, pale-faced and clutching his stomach despite having prepared by covering his nose, glared at him with accusing eyes.

Ahem!

"Alright, sprinkle this 'neutralizing agent' on the Karok meat. You'll see the color turn white—just keep applying it until the surface is completely pale. The black parts mean the toxins are still there. Be careful."

"Ugh... Do I really have to...?"

"I'll be doing it too, you know?"

Sniff.

Rick, on the verge of tears, was forcibly dragged in, and together they bleached about 100 kg of jerky.

"Now, grind this and shape it into small round pills."

Having resigned himself to his fate, Rick stopped protesting.

But once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hundreds of thumb-sized pills were made, he couldn't help but wonder what all this effort was for.

"Why did we make these?"

"Looks like medicine, doesn't it?"

"...Yeah."

"Good. Because we're selling them as medicine."

"Whaaaaat?!"

Rick's eyes bulged in shock, but unfortunately, that wasn't the end of his surprises.

"You remember the whole process we did today, right?"

"Nope! Not! At! All! What did we even do? Haha. Ha. Ha."

Rick forced an awkward laugh, sensing something ominous.

"You look like you remember perfectly."

"Guh!"

But after over a decade together—no, as master and servant—Logan could read him like a book.

And soon, Rick heard the words he'd been dreading.

"This is going to be your job from now on."

"...No."

Rick, who in his past life had endured every dirty task without complaint only to be executed in the end, flatly refused.

"Rick. You're the only one I can trust with this."

"...Absolutely not!"

"Rick! Don't you believe in me?"

"I don't WANNAAAAA!!"

Half-mad, Rick shrieked and bolted.

In the end, Logan had to promise him a weekly bonus of 100 gold to barely convince him to take the job.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it.

"First, we need to test it..."

"Just kill me. I won't do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that. I'd rather die."

Rick declared with absolute resolve, as if he'd made up his mind.

But fortunately (or unfortunately), Rick wasn't the test subject Logan had in mind.

"You're useless for this. And you always will be. Obviously not you."

"Ah, thank go—... Huh?"

Though he didn't understand the implication, Rick felt inexplicably insulted and glared at his master. Logan quickly changed the subject.

"Anyone around us struggling with... nightly duties?"

"Huh? What nightly duties?"

"You know, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the usual. No kids. Henpecked husbands. Or married men who slump over every morning."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Ah, damn it! This!"

Logan eventually resorted to the crude hand gestures he'd learned as a mercenary to explain.

And Rick, catching on instantly, immediately suggested a test subject.

"Administrator Dwain doesn't have any children, right? Married for ten years... He was so happy when he finally wed his young bride, but lately, he's always working late."

"Ah...?"

Such a tragic story didn't suit his sturdy frame.

And so, Test Subject No. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠1 was decided.

"Huh?"

"It's really good for men. That thing."

"Huhhh?"

"What, you don't get it? This."

"Ah..."

What kind of civilization fails to understand words and only gets hand gestures?

Dwain, bewildered, alternated between staring at the mysterious pill in his palm and Logan's face.

"...Is this for real?"

"Yeah. One dose and you'll feel the effects. It's a patented product from the famous Philip Merchant Guild in Kyle."

Technically, it would be famous, and it would be patented—but Logan said it with full confidence.

'It's a proven fact anyway.'

He deliberately avoided thinking about why he was testing it on Dwain.

'...It's confirmed! But I've only heard about it. Never tried it myself.'

His conscience pricked him, but at least he'd verified that the monster's toxins had been neutralized.

'If only dogs could talk.'

He'd even conducted animal testing. That was Logan's last shred of conscience.

"Really, truly?"

"Of course! If it doesn't work, I'll donate a thousand gold—no, ten thousand gold to the family."

"Whoa! You'd really donate?"

The fact that he cared more about the family than personal compensation only made Logan feel guiltier.

'This is good for everyone.'

It wasn't entirely wrong, so Logan consoled himself.

The evening was already deep.

In a dimly lit office where even reading required a lamp, the sight of the burly man hunched over ledgers alone was pitiful.

Yes. This was all out of pity for Dwain.

"You're getting old—go home already."

"Ahaha. Just a bit more work left."

"Tsk! Leave it for later. This stuff's expensive! Later, you won't even be able to buy it with money!"

Again, technically, it would be expensive and would be scarce—but details.

"I see..."

Logan's confident act seemed to sway Dwain slightly.

And the next day—

"YOOUUUNG MASTER!!"

Seeing Dwain sprinting toward him in broad daylight, glowing with vitality, Logan knew it was a success.

"How much for the medicine?! TELL ME HOW MUCH!! ...Sir!"

The reaction was far more intense than expected. Feeling guilty about the human experimentation (?), Logan handed him a set of ten pills.

Dwain knelt and accepted the small box as reverently as a legendary hero receiving a holy sword.

A glimpse into the weary history hidden beneath that large frame.

His reaction alone suggested immense potential, but Logan conducted two more tests for certainty.

Surprisingly, Heinkel—another man with bowed shoulders—started grinning and giving thumbs-ups the day after receiving the pills.

And finally...

"What is this?"

"A tonic. Good for men."

"Hmm?"

The first gift Logan had ever given his father—in both lifetimes.

The effects appeared within just three days.

"Hmph, Logan."

"Yes?"

"...It's good."

An awkward pat on the shoulder, his father avoiding eye contact.

Seeing his slightly flushed face, Logan felt a swell of pride.

'Might even get a little brother out of this.'

Smiling contentedly, Logan confirmed the product's value and summoned the person best suited to market it.

But the "Golden Bug" of his past life balked at Logan's proposed price.

[How much did you say you'd sell it for?]

"100 gold per pill. A set of ten for 1,000 gold."

[...You're not seriously treating nobles as ignorant cash cows, are you?]

"Of course not. But I'm certain it'll sell."

Even in conservative Grandia, nobles with means often kept mistresses or lovers.

Many indulged in scandalous lifestyles under the guise of sophistication.

In the more liberal Ares Empire, some nobles had reputations bordering on the bizarre.

And naturally, such lifestyles often led to... performance issues.

Considering how central such pleasures were to their lives, if Karok meat worked as intended, the profits would be astronomical.

'In my past life, nobles drove the price up too.'

Of course, 100 gold for a single 30g pill was even more expensive than Karok meat at its peak before extinction.

But...

"Call it a limited edition and restrict supply—they'll pay even more."

[...If the effects are real, I suppose.]

"They are. So we need the right first customer."

[First customer...?]

"Yeah. Someone who'll take it and prove its worth."

[Ah... Then someone like Viscount Maximilian would be perfect.]

"That playboy?"

[He's the most famous in that field, after all.]

Logan immediately shook his head at the mention of the capital's most notorious womanizer.

"No, no. Not a playboy—we need the opposite. Someone who needs this."

[Huh? Ah... Now that you mention it...]

"This isn't just an enhancer—it treats impotence. That's the bigger effect. So it has to be someone desperate for it."

[...But Young Master. Would a noble with such a shameful problem really advertise it? I was impotent, but this fixed me?]

Philip's point wasn't wrong, but Logan shook his head.

"They don't have to advertise."

[Huh?]

"No ads needed. They don't even have to buy it themselves. You think there are only one or two nobles in the capital with that problem?"

[You sound like you've been there...]

A bitter smile touched Logan's lips.

The capital? Of course he'd been. In his past life.

"Just let the rumors spread quietly. They'll swarm like bees. The playboys will buy it on their own. Then we can start a bidding war."

[...Wait. We?]

"Yeah. You'll be selling it."

[If there's a problem with this medicine, I'm dead. Are you treating my life as disposable...?]

Meddling with nobles' private lives was indeed risky.

But that only mattered if it failed.

"Don't worry. It works. No side effects."

[You tested it three times and you're this confident... Sigh. Well, you've always been like this.]

Logan wanted to ask what "always been like this" meant but held back.

Fortunately, Philip didn't press further and reluctantly agreed.

[Fine. I'll trust you. How much stock do we have?]

"More than you'd think."

[A miracle drug with common ingredients?]

At least, in the southern warehouse of MacLaine Territory, they were.

"You'd be shocked if you knew."

[Oho? So the herbs and Karok meat you sent are the ingredients?]

Gulp.

Philip was too sharp.

"...You're too perceptive."

[You keep sending bizarre goods—this was the logical conclusion.]

"You know this stays secret, right?"

[...Obviously. If nobles knew, they'd avoid it out of suspicion.]

Contrary to Philip's assumption, nobles in Logan's past life had eaten Karok steaks whole.

"...Well, more importantly, the recipe can't leak."

Sigh. [Anyway, I feel pathetic next to you, planning new ventures. How did you even come up with this?]

"That's a secret."

[Tch. You're full of surprises, Young Master.]

"Heh. Don't worry. If this succeeds, I'll back whatever business you want."

[...Thank you.]

"Now, think about it."

[Huh? About what?]

"How to sell this to the capital's nobles."

[...Huh?]