Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: The Ball Shot by the Wastrel -1
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Levin, the third son of the Marquis House, proposed a narcotics business to me, but he wasn't even a pawn in the Nidhogg Cult's game.
He had probably bitten the bait tossed out by one of their believers and come straight to me.
But the moment I grabbed him, the cult would have cut the line long ago.
They weren't merciful enough to let a fish that had outlived its usefulness swim free.
In the end, the third son's entanglement with some shady bug left only the Marquis of Adenberg with a massive headache.
Strictly speaking, the Adenbergs were almost victims themselves.
'That doesn't mean I need to pity them, though.'
Right now, they had no ties to the cult, but things would change dramatically in the future.
When the empire was drenched in blood, they were one of the nobles who surrendered to the cult's overwhelming power and joined their ranks.
After their fall, they became the cult's vanguard, slaughtering anyone who wasn't a believer.
The Adenbergs' territory bordered Altesia's lands closely, so countless of my domain's people must have died at their hands.
'I've made an enemy of them this time, so if I don't steadily build my strength, I'll end up dying by their hands someday.'
Or I could bring them down first before they got to me.
I had dismissed it as premature since I lacked any real power base worth calling one.
But Lena insisted she could topple them right away and demanded I leave it to her.
Trusting and empowering your subordinates was a leader's virtue.
I told her to go all out with my full support.
So I handed the Adenbergs' downfall to Lena, while I decided to make the most of the game knowledge I'd gained in the meantime.
"Young master, I've procured all the herbs you ordered! But... what on earth do you plan to do with this many herbs?"
"Make a new medicine and sell it."
"Pardon?"
Levin's business plan that he'd shared with me wasn't bad at all, aside from the product being narcotics.
The distribution channels, pharmaceutical facility construction, equipment setup—everything.
There were plenty of useful details scribbled on that parchment.
So I planned to swap out the main product and collaborators, then rake in a fortune.
But as expected, there were voices trying to dissuade me.
"Young master, new medicines aren't that easy to create! Even the empire's alchemists barely produce a groundbreaking potion once every few decades!"
"I know."
"Then how do you expect to develop and sell medicine when you've never even studied alchemy or herbology?"
"I've got one talent they don't—one that's mine alone."
"What's that?"
"Overwhelming financial power."
Alchemists did receive imperial funding, but it had been slashed due to their lackluster results.
They had to skimp even on a single leaf when buying herbs, which naturally stalled progress.
I, on the other hand, had more than enough money to spare the materials.
No real damage even if I wasted them, plus I had memorized every potion recipe that would be developed in the future.
I might not nail the ratios on the first try, but after a few trials and errors, developing a new potion was a sure thing.
"Don't come crying to me later if you regret it?"
"I won't blame you, so shut up and bring the herbs already."
"Understood..."
I'd already prepared the equipment for brewing alongside the herbs.
I had also already decided what potion to manufacture, and I planned to make an Elixir while coaxing patients suffering from erectile dysfunction.
'I am a bit worried if it's okay to make it this early, though...'
Elixirs were one of the potions unlocked after disaster struck the empire.
Their effects were top-tier—short of the nectar that revived the dead—recovering all wounds and dispelling every debuff except poison.
The one counter to late-game enemies stacked with debuff skills.
Its performance was so outstanding that NPCs hailed the alchemist who developed and published the recipe as a sage.
I planned to create it first and sell it at a premium.
It might tarnish the sage's will to share it with the world, but I felt no guilt.
The rare ingredients meant commoners couldn't dream of brewing elixirs even with the recipe.
In fact, it often backfired when cult executives guzzled them, making things harder for players.
I'd never let those Nidhogg Cult bastards turtle up with elixirs.
So in this world, I'd monopolize the elixir patent.
'To survive intact, I need to hold as many cards as possible.'
Even if I'd resolved the Kizen issue, threats to my life still abounded.
I wasn't sure if this world had a protagonist, but without one, world-ending events piled up.
If push came to shove, I'd have to handle them in his place—but as you know, I had zero combat talent.
I’d have no choice but to resolve things in ways completely different from my old approaches.
"I'll show you how the Ketchup Young Master's body survives to the ending...!"
I gritted my teeth and ground up the tower of rare herbs with all my might.
I pulverized every elixir ingredient into powder, mixed it into fairy spring water with varied ratios, then heated it until concentrated, waiting for results.
I repeated that process for over two weeks straight.
No days off, just immersed in elixir production.
Elixirs demanded perfect herb ratios for their stellar performance, or they wouldn't form.
How many failed batches had I made so far?
I'd stopped counting after hitting triple digits.
One certain fact: I'd already burned through more than half my stockpiled materials.
Still, I pressed on without giving up.
"Got it!"
Failure is the mother of success, they say?
Finally, I pinpointed the perfect herb ratio and succeeded in brewing an elixir.
Suppressing my surging joy, I drew a dagger and stabbed my own shoulder.
Red blood splattered the floor, and excruciating pain pierced my brain.
But I swallowed my scream and poured the first completed elixir down my throat.
Gulp!
The cold, thick liquid slid down my esophagus.
Not the smoothest swallow, but the effects kicked in immediately.
The gash tearing through my skin healed in an instant.
At the same time, my vitality, drained from two weeks of all-nighters, began restoring.
My mind cleared to a sharp chill, my vision crystal clear.
Strength seemed to surge through my body—I punched the wall hard, but a dull thud later, my wrist bone jarred.
Fuck.
Luckily, the elixir's effects lingered, healing it right away.
"Clinical trial complete—perfect!"
With the elixir developed, I immediately summoned Luke.
I'd barred everyone from the room until it was done, so he burst in with sparkling eyes.
But spotting the blood pooling red on the floor, he screamed.
"Y-Young master?! What the hell have you been doing in here?!"
"Just a little drug experiment."
"Please tell me you didn't self-harm with that dagger on the table just to test the potion's effects?"
I averted my gaze from Luke, whose instincts were annoyingly sharp.
My silence and evasion were as good as admission, so he started hopping mad on the spot, unleashing a tirade.
But I wasn't leisurely enough to listen meekly.
"Young master, you need to treasure your body more! If something like this happens again, just use me instead...!"
"Luke."
"Yes?"
"Among the famous people you know, anyone suffering from an incurable disease?"
To sell potions, quality assurance came first.
If someone influential or famous in the empire vouched for the elixir's effects, it'd sell like hotcakes.
Me endorsing it personally would backfire since my fame was the bad kind.
So I asked Luke's opinion.
"Incurable disease? Hmm...!"
Luke, who had been rapid-firing words, clamped his mouth shut and pondered deeply.
Stroking his chin in serious thought, he suddenly snapped his fingers, eyes gleaming.
"One person popped right into my head!"
"Who?"
Anyone would do. Even a well-known border lord whose name rang a bell would suffice.
Once it sold once, buyers would line up after.
But the name from Luke's mouth far exceeded my expectations.
"Princess Rosmel!"