Chapter 69: A Story Event?
The day after treating the tattoo victims, I headed to that infamous potion shop with Walter, where the patients had gotten their tattoos.
"Come on in—shop! Dungeon essentials! Low-grade stamina potions, low-grade mana potions—10 gold! Potions sold inside!"
And this was the shop farthest from the dungeon among those in the Frederik Dungeon Zone—right next to the one Cache had run alone back in the day.
"For potion buyers only: tattoos that cost a gold per finger elsewhere, just 5 silver here! Any type, any size... Come on in—shop! Looking for something speci—huh? Y-you?"
"Baron calls you 'you'? Looks like you want your tongue cut off."
"M-my apologies, Baron."
As Walter, standing beside me, placed his hand on his sword hilt, the young hawker out front trembled like a leaf.
I took another step toward him.
"Is the owner inside?"
"Y-yes... He's inside. But—"
Before the man could finish, I strode into the shop.
"Grrrugh! Isn't this supposed to hurt this much?"
"They're stabbing your skin with a needle—what'd you expect? It's 5 silver—shut up and take it, huh?"
"Kkhugh!"
The place wasn't properly ventilated, so the cloying potion scent filled the air amid swirling dust.
Ha, unbelievable. They were actually doing tattoos here.
In one dingy corner, an adventurer chugged booze at a desk, grimacing, while a skinny middle-aged man tattooed him.
Sensing my presence, he spoke without turning.
"Hey there, welcome. Stamina potion? Mana potion? Or both? What's with the silence... Wait, who the hell are you?"
As I said nothing, the skinny middle-aged man turned, flashing yellow teeth in a sleazy grin.
"Welcome to Viktor's Potion Shop, Baron Gold. What brings you to this humble establishment?"
"It's humble, so I came."
"Pardon?"
"I thought tattoos were only done at my hospital, but I hear they're happening in this dump too? Care to explain?"
At my question, Viktor set down the mystery animal tooth he'd been holding bare-handed—no medical gloves—onto the table where the customer's arm rested, then turned to face me.
But my eyes stayed on his table: the booze bottle the customer was drinking from, food scraps, mystery ink in soy sauce dishes—like filth incarnate.
"Oh dear, an explanation? Shouldn't I be the one asking you first, Baron? Last time we met, you didn't even know low-grade from mid-grade potions, and now you're brewing them yourself?"
Viktor flashed his yellow teeth again.
"Plus, you crossed from the East Continent not long ago and snagged a barony already. The gossips are curious about you, not my tattoos. Haha."
No point bantering with this potion shop scum. Better cut to the chase.
"Skill matters for tattoos. But doing them in this filthy setup—don't you know it screws customers? Or do you know infections rot skin and do it anyway?"
"Haha, that's on poor aftercare, right? A spoonful of low-grade potion heals scratches like this in no time. If there's a problem, it's cheapskates too stingy to use potions. Hey, right?"
"Yeah, sure. Potions ain't cheap."
The man getting tattooed nodded in agreement.
"Does that even make sense? Even if they can't afford potions, you do tattoos in a proper setup and guide aftercare! Otherwise, don't do it at all!"
"Haha, that's tricky, Baron."
"What do you mean?"
Viktor grinned, gums bared.
"If you were in the potion co-op like me, sure, you'd advise as a member. But we're not in the business of swapping tips, are we?"
"Playing it like that?"
"Whoa, playing? This ain't your territory—coming into my shop and talking like this is harassment. Should I call the territory office?"
From his tone, he'd clearly been coached by co-op chairman Gregory Balio.
"Oh yeah? So you're admitting you'll keep doing tattoos in this unsanitary hellhole?"
"Haha, it's humble, but what can I do? Hunger turns folks to crime, right? Just like you're muscling into potions, I gotta eat too."
Yeah, no words from me would change his mind. He's not tattooing for 5-silver scraps—he wants to hurt me.
"Baron, time to go. Or I might have to call the office to protect this 'unsanitary' spot."
"I get your point—I'll back off. Just know using unverified tools and materials in this unclean dump endangers customers' health."
"Sure thing, won't go far, Baron. Take care."
His giggling bow made my own sour smile form.
Even the farewell's word-for-word what I told the co-op chairman.
Fine. Let's play in the mud. This is war now.
Back at the Beauty Tower, I gathered the execs in the B1 staff lounge.
Over time, I'd built a team: my right-hand Cache for esthetic sales, witch rep Rebecca, Jo family rep Josephine.
"You get the gist from the rundown—this is war now. We let the boycott slide last time, but with the Tower established, we can't just take hits anymore. So, major announcement."
Their serious faces matched my grave tone.
"We've used mileage for repeat business. But only in two depts: Cache's products and Josephine's salon."
And accumulation/use was siloed—salon miles for salon only, product miles for products.
"Now we integrate everything. Product miles usable at salon, salon miles for my treatments."
"Director, so mileage for medical too?"
I nodded at Cache's raised hand.
"Yes. And 1F cafe treats—free before for buyers/patients—now mileage or pay."
I'd taught Ravi espresso basics as a hobby; now he did hand-drips and latte art. Cafe plugs mileage gaps.
"Finally, mileage for potions. Products always accrued it, but potions matched co-op/magic tower prices. That's over."
Cache, Rebecca, Josephine eyes widened.
Rebecca ventured cautiously:
"You mean lowering potion prices? They're uniform continent-wide—no sales below current, just hikes on shortages."
"Exactly. Time to shatter that."
Not whimsy—I'd realized Walter's power.
Thought he was just a tough adventurer at first.
But his strength rivals North Duke Tolstoy Lancaster.
War favors the strongest.
With Walter as my weapon, I'll live freely.
"Beauty Tower: Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays— all potions 10% off regular."
"My god... Low-grade 9 gold, mid 90, high 900?"
I nodded lightly at shocked Cache.
"Mark as discount. Even at 10% off, profits solid—no losses."
Discount tags sway hearts—and wallets.
"War ahead. Relay to depts now."
"“Yes!”"
Potion sales—holy ground. Aggressive mileage and discounts breach it again.
But not done.
"And Saturdays: story events."
"Story event?"
Not just Cache—Rebecca and Josephine looked baffled too.