Supplements (1)
Saturday morning, and lazy sunlight seeped into every corner of the tower.
Oscar had finished his morning training and made his way to the second-floor café, as he did every day. His body felt marvelous, but his expression was nothing short of stormy.
Those dirty Blue Tower bastards…….
Two days ago, right after his class had ended, Elder Maxim had passed along a piece of news: the market merchants were reluctant to stock White Tower potions, wary of drawing the Blue Tower's ire.
No doubt the Blue Tower pressured them. I'd bet my life on it.
It was true that the White Tower had turned a tidy profit on its Cadena Flu remedies. But the potion market was far too large for that alone to shift its balance of power.
In other words, the merchants have judged that we're still not in the same weight class as the Blue Tower.
It stung, but coldly speaking, it was the right call. However impressive the remedy's effects, the merchants had no compelling reason to buy from the White Tower if it meant earning the Blue Tower's hostility.
Whew. What a headache. And why on earth is the café this crowded first thing in the morning?
Oscar eyed the bustling crowd and got in line. Soon, snippets of conversation drifted over from the other mages.
"What's your assignment today?"
"Mail. I just have to run Belrod 1st Street through 5th Street."
"Wow, you'll be done in no time. Me, I got stuck with package duty. Can you believe my luck? I'm losing my mind."
"Tough break."
Oscar's gaze drifted, almost of its own accord, toward the mages ahead of him.
Ah. So these are the Wind Rider people.
He still couldn't wrap his head around it, but they were the ones who carried out the White Tower's flagship business: delivery. Perhaps that was why, from their uniforms alone, they barely registered as mages at all. Aside from the white color scheme, they looked for all the world like postal workers.
"Oh, right. Did you hear? Supposedly we're getting a raise starting this month."
"Really? That's a breath of fresh air. Well, I suppose the tower's flushed with money now. I hear the remedy and vaccine sales are through the roof."
"Since sales are going so well anyway, why not just shut down the delivery division and focus entirely on that side of things?"
"God, I wish. But you know how the Tower Master is—she's dead serious about the delivery business."
"I will never understand it. What does she see in this market the size of a mouse's ear that she'd gamble her life on it……"
Listening to the two of them, Oscar found himself nodding along despite his better judgment.
It's true—delivery isn't an attractive business.
It burned through manpower while barely making a coin. It offered no political leverage either, no power to be seized from it. If he had to name one strength, there was exactly one.
According to the records I dug up, the delivery division didn't make money, but its approval rating among the citizens was overwhelmingly the highest of every division across all the magic towers.
And really, that went without saying. What magic tower would pour money and mages into a losing venture that was practically volunteer work?
Oscar's expression turned distinctly bitter.
Shasha's always had too big a heart for her own good, ever since she was little.
More likely than not, sentiment was the reason she couldn't bring herself to shut down the delivery division cleanly. Honestly, as her master, he found her admirable—she'd grown up keeping her warmth intact even through hard times.
But……
Judged coldly, as a former Tower Master, her management skills left much to be desired. In an era when every coin counted, she was running a business that ate into her own flesh.
If the potion sales would just pick up, things might finally ease a little.
Just as deep worry settled between Oscar's brows, a voice cut through his thoughts.
"A cup of coffee and we'll power through another day. Work's got its good moments too, you know."
"True enough. Especially the elderly—they'll hand you food just for hauling their heavy packages up for them."
"……!"
In that instant, lightning struck inside Oscar's head, and he grabbed the departing mages.
"Wait! I'd like to ask you something."
"Hm? Oh, it's Oscar. What is it?"
"When you're out on delivery, do you often run into people face to face?"
"Well…… I'd say so? We need a signature confirming the package was delivered properly."
Snap!
Oscar had gotten exactly the answer he wanted, and his fingers flicked before he realized it.
After thanking them, he headed straight for the Deputy Tower Master's office.
"So, if I'm understanding you correctly……"
The Deputy Tower Master, Hamel Grimwiz, looked up from the business proposal in front of him.
"You wish to use the White Tower's Wind Riders to run a door-to-door sales operation alongside the mail. Is that it?"
"You've grasped it exactly."
Oscar began calmly laying out the plan he had conceived.
"I heard the market merchants aren't buying our potions—our White Tower potions—in any quantity."
"A painful truth, I'm afraid."
"To break into that entrenched market, we need solid footing. In other words, a stable customer base."
"Hmm."
The Deputy Tower Master nodded.
"I understand your intent. But wouldn't it be practically impossible?"
The ages and genders of those receiving mail and packages ran the entire gamut. What was more, the White Tower currently possessed no product capable of capturing them all.
At that question, Oscar broke into a faint smile.
"If there's no product, we simply make a new one."
"……You mean you intend to develop a new potion?"
"No. It doesn't even warrant the grand word 'develop.'"
Oscar picked up a sheet of paper and drew a single potion bottle on it.
"Here, look. This is the most effective product in our current lineup: the intermediate recovery potion."
Scribble, scribble.
Beneath the bottle, Oscar drew four lines.
"We make a slight modification to this potion, divide it into four product lines, and relaunch it."
The first: a product for children, promoting rapid growth and sturdy bones. The second: for women, aiding skin elasticity, brightening, and pore care. The third: for men, supporting bigger, stronger muscles. And the fourth and final: for the elderly, boosting overall immunity and restoring vitality.
"Every time we deliver the mail, the Wind Riders will also sell these four potions—no, wait. Let's change the word while we're at it."
The word "potion" carried a high barrier for ordinary citizens. The common perception was that potions were something knights, soldiers, and adventurers drank.
"Supplements would be better. From now on, the White Tower's Wind Riders will run door-to-door sales of these supplements alongside their mail routes."
"……"
The Deputy Tower Master, who had been staring blankly, collected himself and asked in return:
"Adjusting the effects of an already completed potion is easier said than done. Wouldn't it, in practice, be harder and more delicate than creating four brand-new products from scratch?"
"I'm sorry? You just fine-tune the ingredient ratios according to each ingredient's properties and add a few extra materials to each. That's all it takes."
"……"
That's exactly the part other people can't do, you absolute—
The Deputy Tower Master let out a hollow laugh. In short, this was a plan that only a genius like Oscar Crucian could carry through. After a moment's consideration, he spoke.
"It is certainly clever. And the approach is fresh—its effectiveness practically guaranteed."
"……Meaning?"
"Proceed."
With permission granted, Oscar moved at once. Within two days, the recipes for all four supplements were complete and delivered directly to the potion manufacturing department.
Creak, creak.
Sitting in the rocking chair before his front yard, the old man Graham gazed up at the clear blue sky. To pass the afternoon in this spot, watching the heavens while a cool breeze drifted by—that was his one remaining pleasure in life.
Old age drains the strength right out of you……
His hobby had once been playing chess at the central fountain in Shilin, but lately his body and mind had grown so heavy that even a game of chess felt like a burden.
As he sat looking up at the sky, weak as a sick hen, someone approached.
"Master Graham!"
"……Hm?"
At the call, Graham turned his head slowly, and life stirred in his eyes for the first time in a long while. It was the White Tower's postman, whom he saw more often than his own busy children and grandchildren.
"Good to see you. Any letters for me?"
"Yes—one from a friend of yours in Melbourne."
"Heh heh. So that old friend's still breathing, is he?"
"Oh, come now. They say it's the age of the hundred-year lifespan these days. Why on earth would he be dead?"
"The age of a hundred, hah. I'm only eighty, and my body and mind are already this heavy."
"Oh, really?"
Having handed over the letter, the postman rummaged through his backpack, which looked more stuffed than usual.
"In that case, Master Graham—would you like to try this?"
"Hm? What is it?"
"A new supplement our tower just released."
What the postman held out was a glass bottle that fit neatly in his palm. On the wrapper was printed a single line: S-Zero.
"S-Zero? What does it mean?"
"Ah—it's the supplement ranked S in importance for our Senior citizens! Something like that."
"Heh heh. What difference would it make for an old man just waiting out his days?"
"A big difference."
The postman drew close, glanced needlessly around the deserted yard, and lowered his voice.
"You know Master Miller over on 2nd Avenue, don't you? He started taking this last week, and now he's off hiking in the mountains."
"……Is that really so?"
Graham made a face of open disbelief. And small wonder—wasn't Master Miller the old fellow who complained his knees ached and could barely walk?
"Yes, sir. Because this supplement was developed personally by the once-in-a-century genius born of the White Tower, Oscar Crucian."
"Oscar Crucian……? I'm sure I've heard that name somewhere……"
"You know, the one who made the remedy for the Cadena Flu a while back."
"Ahh!"
Now he remembered. Word of the man had spread even among the elderly—the one bright talent to emerge from the crumbling White Tower. And with that story fresh in his mind, the little bottle before him looked quite different.
"So this is the supplement that remarkable mage made?"
Graham studied the bottle with eyes full of curiosity, then turned his head.
"Still…… how much does it cost?"
"Thirty bels a bottle. Take just one a week and you'll be brimming with energy."
"Hrrmph. Nothing to it, then."
Expensive. Wasn't that the price of a single steak dinner at a fairly respectable restaurant? For a man living on a modest pension, it was far too steep a burden.
Just as Graham was about to hand the bottle back—
"Just a moment, sir. Your residence is registered in Shilin, isn't it? We're running a special event right now, exclusive to Shilin residents. Sign up for the one-year subscription and we'll deliver one supplement to your door every week—for just 799 bels. And we even offer twelve-month interest-free installments."
Normally, drinking a 30-bel supplement every week for a year would cost 1,560 bels. And now they were offering it at half price. It suddenly felt like an opportunity he couldn't afford to pass up. Why, they were even covering the installments without interest.
799 bels a year, hmm……. If I cut back on my drink and tobacco, I could just about manage…….
Besides, his children were already nagging him to cut back on the drink and tobacco for his age's sake. Spending that money on a supplement that was good for him actually felt like a bargain. Above all, he'd reached the age when little warning signs were starting to crop up here and there.
"Oh, and the first bottle is on the house."
"You scamp! You should have led with that!"
Graham popped the cap and downed the supplement in one gulp.
Mm!
Sweet yet bitter—a strangely addictive flavor. Effects aside, the taste alone would be reason enough to want it now and then.
"Tasty enough. Though I can't say I feel any livelier."
"Oh, Master Graham, honestly. If it surged through you the moment you swallowed it, would that be a supplement? That'd be an elixir."
"Heh heh heh. Fair enough."
Bursting into laughter, Graham waved off the postman as he made ready to leave.
"You're not far off. Come again."
"Yes, sir. I look forward to seeing you in good health next time."
When Graham opened his eyes the next morning, he felt a strange, indefinable wrongness. It was only while washing up and eating freshly baked toast and bacon that he finally put his finger on what it was.
"……I feel refreshed."
For the past few months, no matter how long he slept, his body had been heavy and his head achy when he rose. But today he felt wonderfully refreshed, and his mind was clear.
Could it be that supplement from yesterday?
Oh, come now. One bottle, and his body had changed this much overnight? Shaking his head with a chuckle, Graham put on his outdoor clothes—something he hadn't worn in ages—and visited the fountain.
"……Hm? Isn't that Master Graham?"
"I thought you'd passed on, not seeing you these past few weeks. Good to see you hale."
"Couldn't go before you, could I? I was just feeling a bit under the weather and rested a few days."
Slipping naturally into the empty seat, he began a game of chess for the first time in a long while.
"……Wh-what, did you just play chess at home the whole time you were resting? What's gotten into you today?"
"Heh heh. I'm concentrating remarkably well this morning. Feels as though I've shed ten years."
"That's remarkable. Did you buy some health elixir or other?"
"Not quite an elixir, but……"
"Out with it, man. You ate something, didn't you?"
"Tell us this instant. What are you keeping it to yourself for?"
"Well, it's……"
Under his friends' relentless pressing, Graham cautiously confessed about the White Tower supplement.
And this phenomenon was unfolding not only in Shilin but, all at once, in every territory across the land where the White Tower's postmen made their rounds.