Nutritional Supplements (2)

There was a city in the Empire shrouded in dark clouds 365 days a year, where a thin, drizzling rain never ceased.

That city was Laps, the domain of the Blue Tower.

Inside the towering spire of this territory perfectly suited to melancholy, a meeting was underway.

"…The Tower Master has issued an ultimatum."

So spoke Moira Maine, a 5th-level mage of the Blue Tower.

The past few weeks had evidently worn him down; long shadows of exhaustion sagged beneath his eyes.

"He said we should prepare ourselves if we can't recover the losses the Tower has suffered this time."

At those words, his subordinates shuddered, and one slammed a fist down on the desk.

"T-Tower Master, how could he! Was this entirely our fault?"

"…No, it wasn't."

Oscar Crucian.

If only that insolent brat hadn't butted in midway, the mood in the conference room would have been the exact opposite.

If things had gone the way they should have, he himself would have been promoted to a high position in the Potion Department by now.

"But that's water under the bridge. What matters now is that we have one chance left."

If a crisis came knocking, you simply turned it into an opportunity.

Better yet, resolving this affair would carve his name firmly into the Tower Master's memory.

Moira spoke up.

"Pull up the materials I requested."

"Yes, sir."

A junior mage instantly projected the prepared documents onto one wall of the conference room.

"This is a comparison chart between the White Tower's potions—which have recently been making a serious push into the potion market—and our own Blue Tower potions."

"Hm…"

Reviewing the data, Moira sank into thought.

'They really did restore the records of the old potions. The effects themselves are excellent.'

Of course, excellent effects hadn't translated into sales.

The reason was that the merchants were all watching the Blue Tower's mood.

'Their strategy seems to be a low price relative to efficacy, but it won't work. No merchant in the potion market would dare incur the Blue Tower's wrath.'

A junior mage, staring at the same screen, muttered as though something puzzled him.

"Honestly, it's a little surprising? I know they're wary of us, but with effects that strong and a price that much cheaper, the merchants won't even touch it."

"They can't afford to. Humans are suspicious creatures."

Moira replied with a sneer.

Humans were foolish animals who believed a product's price was a direct measure of its quality.

In other words, even when something similar to a product they already used well came out cheaper, they saw no reason to switch.

"Potions especially—people tend to assume that a cheap one must be made of inferior ingredients, or cause side effects with long-term use."

It was precisely that perception he intended to exploit.

Having finished his calculations, Moira spoke.

"The White Tower… At this point, I'd say we can crush them easily."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell them to apply a massive discount to every recovery product below premium grade, starting tomorrow."

The intent was to deny the White Tower even the chance to establish a foothold in this market.

It was pure tyranny—the kind only a dinosaur with a monopoly on the market could indulge in.

At that, one of his subordinates raised a hand with a question.

"But sir, if the White Tower holds out for long, won't our losses just keep piling up? Those bastards made a fortune off the Cadena Flu treatment, didn't they?"

"Hah. Whatever money those punks earned, how much could it have been?"

Moira snorted.

This was not groundless arrogance, but confidence with evidence behind it.

"Those idiots released the treatment far too early."

If the Blue Tower had succeeded in developing a cure for the Cadena Flu, they would never have sold the medicine until at least the flu had spread into a nationwide epidemic.

Only then could profits be maximized.

But the White Tower had foolishly kicked that opportunity away with its own foot.

'They put the treatment on the market while the flu had barely spread through the northern regions.'

Roughly estimating the sales figures in his head, Moira spoke.

"At most, they probably made a few tens of millions of bells."

"A few tens of millions of bells… That is indeed a middling sum."

An enormous amount to an ordinary person, but nowhere near plentiful for a magic tower's coffers.

In fact, you could argue a tower needed at least that much just to cover minimal operating costs.

"I imagine they planned to win the people's hearts with the treatment, then move straight into potions to enter the market… Not a chance."

Since we've taken a loss once, shouldn't they be made to take one too?

Moira did not doubt his own decision for a second.

"Three weeks."

Spreading out three fingers, he declared boldly.

"Discount the potions for exactly three weeks and cut off their air supply—then they will never get a foothold."

Moira recalled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the arrogant words that brat from the White Tower had once thrown at him.

—If you wish to use the medicines you produce, you will either pay us royalties on the technology, promptly and in full, or dispose of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your entire stock. You must choose one of the two.

The moment that memory surfaced, his eyes blazed with fury all over again.

'That thundering bastard. Back then, he must have felt like he owned the whole world.'

But now the tables had turned.

The White Tower would have to grit its teeth and plunge into a price war, or swallow that mountain of stock and die.

They would have to choose one of the two.

Lena White, 5th-level mage of the White Tower, was the one responsible for managing the Potion Department whenever Oscar was absent.

Reading the newspaper early that morning, her face darkened.

Their competitor, the Blue Tower, had suddenly begun discounting all of its potions.

The discount rate was a staggering fifty percent—and worse, the justification was impeccable.

The stated reason: to help the poor survive the brutal winter in good health.

Needless to say, at that discount rate there was nothing left for them to profit.

'In fact, the structure means they lose money on every potion they sell…'

The ruse was transparent in its intent, and she hurried straight to Oscar.

"Oscar, we have a problem."

"What is it?"

"Look at this."

Having read the article she handed over, Oscar didn't stiffen in the slightest—he burst out chuckling instead.

"Look at these guys. How adorable."

"…Adorable? With an insane discount rate like that, we're about to be ruined."

"Why would we be ruined?"

Oscar crumpled the paper, tossed it into the wastebasket behind him, and spoke as if it were nothing.

"Don't worry. At that discount rate, they can't keep it up longer than two or three weeks."

"Those two or three weeks will be fatally irreversible for us. If we can't secure our footing now, while the Cadena Flu medicines are still selling…"

After that, breaking into the market would only grow harder—it was as plain as day.

She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bit her lip hard.

"It's not too late even now. Let's bundle the Cadena Flu medicines with the potions and sell them together."

"Absolutely not."

Oscar shook his head firmly.

"That would be exactly the situation the Blue Tower wants most. We'd be handing them the perfect pretext to cut our throats."

The Cadena medicines had a lifespan of, generously, about a month.

If they sold potions bundled with them during that window, their sales figures would of course skyrocket.

But the market's resentment would quietly build all the while.

'And then, once the Cadena treatment is no longer needed, we go down with it.'

She could already picture the flood of sensational headlines that would come pouring out.

"Then what do you want us to do? We can't just sit here taking hits until we collapse."

Lena's face was tight with frustration—until she noticed something odd.

'But this guy… why is he so calm in a situation like this?'

He was so relaxed it made her angry just watching him.

As if the abysmal potion sales weren't even on his radar.

"…Do you have something prepared? Some kind of plan?"

"When the enemy attacks us, it would hardly be polite to just sit here and absorb it."

Oscar turned his head and asked her.

"We haven't sold any potions so far, correct?"

"Right. Not a single bottle."

"Which means all those potions are sitting untouched in the warehouse, doesn't it?"

"…Sitting untouched? They're piled up like a mountain. That's the problem."

"Perfect, then."

Oscar made a bold decision.

"Starting today, reprocess every intermediate potion in the warehouse into the Zero Series. I've already given you the recipes, so you can manage it, yes?"

"…All of that inventory?"

"Or would you rather hug all that stock and sit around sucking your thumb?"

Oscar gave a small chuckle and continued.

"And spread the word to the postmen. If a household buys two or more Zero Series products, they get an additional discount. That should be enough to make families with young children or elderly parents seriously consider extra purchases."

"Ha."

On this point, even Lena couldn't help but be impressed.

It was as if he had foreseen this whole situation—wasn't that flexibility beyond remarkable?

"And one more thing. Bribe a few people from the Information Guild and spread a rumor."

"A rumor? What kind of rumor?"

"M-Zero."

M-Zero was the name of the supplement made for men (Male).

Oscar tilted his chin up slightly as he went on.

"If word spreads that it also happens to improve male vigor, things are going to get interesting, don't you think?"

"…Would something like that actually help sales?"

"Just wait and see."

Because it would sell in staggering quantities.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders with an easy, untroubled expression.

Three weeks flew by like an arrow.

Moira Maine had barely slept during that entire period, monitoring the potion market's trading volume day after day.

And today, he reached a single conclusion.

'The massive bloodletting discount our Blue Tower ran for three weeks ended two days ago.'

He had kept watching the graphs even after it ended, but the White Tower's potions still weren't selling so much as a single unit.

What's more, the Cadena Flu issue had now completely cooled.

Only today did Moira Maine finally feel certain.

The White Tower would never establish itself in the potion market.

'If they truly wanted to, it would take long-term investment measured in decades at minimum.'

And even if they committed to that kind of investment, this side could crush them again whenever it pleased.

The moment Moira sensed his perfect victory, the head of the Blue Tower's Potion Department came to see him in person.

"Moira Maine."

"Yes, Department Head!"

Moira sprang to his feet, fists clenched tight.

No doubt he was about to be praised for driving the White Tower out of the potion market entirely.

Still, he didn't let his guard down.

'Driving out the White Tower doesn't mean I've recovered everything the Tower lost.'

In other words, he had merely cleared the first hurdle.

He waited for the next words with a serene expression—and the Department Head's face crumpled like paper.

"What in the world is wrong with the way you do your job?"

"…I'm sorry?"

"I'm asking if you threw away all that revenue just to produce a pathetic result like this!"

A newspaper came flying with the words and smacked Moira square in the face. He stood there, dumbfounded.

Unable even to think of rubbing his stinging nose, he looked down at the paper lying on the floor.

The front page was plastered with articles about the White Tower.

"Wh… what?"

Not potions—supplements?

The White Tower had been selling this sort of thing all along?

'That's impossible. If so, why on earth didn't I know until now… Ah!'

Moira's eyes caught on the phrase door-to-door sales.

Direct, face-to-face contracts using postmen.

That was the moment he realized it was the heart of the entire business.

'With a system like that, of course market sales figures wouldn't register.'

The potions never arrived on store shelves—the transactions happened on the spot, leaving no way to track them at all.

Only then, grasping the full situation, did Moira Maine's face drain completely white.

The Potion Department Head looked at him and said coldly.

"That bastard, riding his momentum, even said this: that the White Tower would sell its potions at a discount for life."

Moira Maine immediately checked the prices they had declared—and let out a shriek.

"Th-that is outright fraud! Isn't that price exactly what they were originally planning to sell at anyway!"

"And do you think the public knows that? Not one bottle has ever been delivered to the market."

There had been two main reasons the market merchants never stocked the White Tower's potions until now.

One was wariness of the Blue Tower; the other was the suspiciously, almost incomprehensibly low price.

'…And now it's become too ambiguous for the merchants to keep watching OUR mood.'

Different market or not, the White Tower had already sold ten million supplements—they were a rising power in the "potion market."

Moreover, they'd even cooked up a plausible justification for the low price: a "lifetime discount."

It was obvious without looking that White Tower potions would soon flood the market.

When Moira Maine, utterly lost for words, could only mumble with his lips flapping, the Department Head warned him with a glacial look.

"You're going to be very busy from now on."

"Wh-what?"

"Because recovering the losses the Tower suffered this time will take you the rest of your life—even if you work without pay until you die."

"…"

It was over.

Moira Maine's face drowned in despair.