"Why should I do this? How do I know this isn’t fake? Or, worse, poison?"
I knew this was coming. n like Marcel, who had climbed to the top of a food chain as brutal as this tower’s, were not easily convinced. But I was ready.
I crossed my arms, keeping my gaze locked onto his. "You have doubts? Run any test you want. I’m not here to waste your ti, much less mine. If you want to verify its authenticity, go ahead. I stand by my product."
For a mont, he remained silent, the cigar in his mouth burning slowly as he studied . Marcel wasn’t like the reckless young n I had dealt with before. He was an old man, soone who had clearly failed to pass the bottleneck to beco a mage, but above all else, he was cautious. Even with all his experience, curiosity seed to gnaw at his reservations. Finally, he removed the cigar from his mouth and covered one of his hands with a magical blue aura, channeling his energy as he lightly touched the powder on the table.
I watched as he pressed the substance against the surface of the table, his eyes sharp, looking for any reaction. The powder remained inert, showing no response to the magical energy. He lifted his gaze to , his expression a mixture of surprise and intrigue.
"Interesting…" he muttered, leaning back in his chair. He brought the cigar to his mouth once again, took a deep puff, and blew a thick cloud of smoke in my direction. His eyes now had a cynical glint, and an ironic smile played on his lips.
"You think sothing as mundane as this," he said, gesturing at the powder on the table, "is going to have the sa effect on acolytes? We’re not ordinary humans, kid. Most of us here have strong bodies, fortified by the warrior breathing techniques passed down from our families. What works on so random peasant won’t necessarily work on us."
I remained still, my expression serious. My confidence in the product was unshaken. I looked him directly in the eyes, unwavering, and spoke firmly: "Just take a sniff. And I promise you’ll see the sky."
Marcel laughed, a deep sound laden with disbelief, but sothing about my deanor seed to have partially disard him. He looked at , then at the powder on the table, still hesitant. After another draw on his cigar, he narrowed his eyes and turned to one of the girls who had been serving him earlier.
It was a young woman with green hair cascading in curls to her shoulders, her skin glowing with a soft brown hue. She seed hesitant, but with a small gesture from Marcel, she slowly approached.
"Sll this," he ordered, his voice firm.
She hesitated for a mont, casting a wary glance at , but obeyed. Leaning over the table, she brought her face close to the powder and inhaled deeply, her eyes half-closed as she did so.
Her movents grew faster and more intense with each passing second. From what I could sense, she was a Level 2 acolyte, which made it all the more interesting. When the last grain disappeared, the effect kicked in almost instantly.
She froze for a mont, as if the world around her had co to a complete stop. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened, and a loud, uncontrollable laugh echoed through the room. She began waving her arms and jumping, as though she was consud by an energy too powerful to contain.
"UHHHHHHHH!" she let out a high-pitched scream, her eyes rolling back as an uncontrollable grin spread across her face. "THIS IS TOO GOOD! UHHHHHH!!!"
She grabbed Marcel by the arm, laughing hysterically, and began kissing his face, leaving lipstick marks on his skin. He tried to pull away, but she was quick and utterly unrestrained. Her movents were erratic but filled with energy, as if every cell in her body was bursting with vitality.
"Thank you for this, boss! UHHHHHHHH! THIS IS AMAZING!" she scread again, hugging Marcel as if he were responsible for all her euphoria.
anwhile, I watched with a discreet but satisfied smile. Marcel, on the other hand, remained still, observing every detail. Behind his serious expression, I could see the gears in his mind turning.
When the woman finally stopped jumping, she collapsed into a chair in the corner, still panting and giggling softly, as though even the act of breathing brought her joy. A tense silence fell over the room, but it was a silence laden with aning. Marcel brought the cigar back to his lips, took a long puff, and his eyes, which had been fixed on the woman, now locked directly onto .
This was it. He understood.
Before his eyes, I had just proven that my product was revolutionary. Not only did it have an effect on acolytes, but it also turned mundane, inexpensive ingredients into sothing of imnse value—sothing that could be traded for magical crystals. And Marcel knew that if he didn’t control it, soone else would.
Despite the tension, he kept his face neutral. His fingers, however, lightly tapped on the table, a sign that he was thinking fast. Finally, he gave a wide but asured smile and pointed to the chair in front of his desk.
"Sit down." His voice was firm and carried an air of authority.
I nodded confidently and sat with the poise of a noble. I placed the container holding the rest of the powder on the table and clasped my hands together. "The price is five magical crystals per portion. This container here holds enough for fourteen portions. How about it?"
It wasn’t just the substance itself—it was the disruption it could bring to the tower’s drug market.
"Five crystals per portion…" he repeated, pensive. "You’re bold, kid. That’s expensive for sothing non-magical. Mundane products that make it into the tower are usually cheaper, even the rare ones. But…"
I maintained my confident posture as I stared Marcel down. It was clear he was testing my resolve, but that only spurred on further. I crossed my arms and offered a faint smile.
"Marcel, let’s be realistic," I began, my voice steady. "What you just witnessed isn’t a common product. This powder, which you just saw turn a Level 2 acolyte into an explosion of energy and pleasure, isn’t just good—it’s unique. It’s sothing that will have your clients begging for more. This is top-tier quality, sothing no one else in the tower has. Imagine the impact it could have on the tower’s pleasure market."
Marcel took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling the smoke slowly as he analyzed with a calculating gaze. "Top-tier quality, huh? I won’t deny the effect was impressive, but let’s talk numbers. A magical recovery potion costs about five magical crystals, and it serves a clear, practical purpose. Your product here... it’s pleasure, nothing more."
He gave a faint, cynical smile. "And let tell you sothing else: I’d have to resell this for six magical crystals to make any profit. Do you know what that ans? I’d be charging more than a magical potion. So tell , who do you think people would prefer to buy from? A proven magical product or this... mundane novelty of yours?"
I chuckled softly, leaning slightly forward. "Marcel, you’re comparing apples to oranges. A recovery potion is practical, sure, but it’s purchased by acolytes venturing outside the tower, completing missions to earn magical crystals—those who haven’t given up on the magical path. What I’m offering here isn’t for those smart, driven acolytes. My product is for those who want to forget the real world and wander in a realm of illusion. It’s an experience. It’s the feeling of touching the sky, of forgetting everything, of being invincible—even if just for a mont."
I lifted the container, turning it in my hand so the light reflected off the shimring powder. "And you saw it with your own eyes: the effect is imdiate and intense. Your clients won’t just want this; they’ll need it. And when they realize you’re the only one who can supply it… well, Marcel, you’ll be swimming in magical crystals."
He shook his head, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "You’ve got a good pitch, kid, but I won’t be swayed so easily. I can’t risk losing my clients by charging an exorbitant price. Three magical crystals per portion. That’s the most I can pay. I can still sell it for four or five, and everyone wins. Including you."
I furrowed my brow, trying to maintain a facade of dissatisfaction. "Three crystals? Marcel, that’s far below this product’s real value. You saw the effect; you know it’s worth more. That price barely covers production costs!"
Marcel gave a cold smile, pointing his cigar at . "Kid, you don’t fool . I know you used mundane ingredients to create this. Producing this amount probably cost you five, maybe ten magical crystals at most. Three magical crystals per portion is a great deal for you. If you think you can sell it on your own, go ahead. But if you want my network, my reach, and my protection… three is the number."
I stayed silent for a few seconds, pretending to consider his words. He was partly right; selling directly would be risky and ti-consuming, and he offered sothing I needed—a quick entry into the tower’s market for addicted acolytes. But I couldn’t let him see how much I needed this deal. I took a deep breath, then gave a slight smile.
"All right, Marcel. Three crystals per portion. But I want one thing to be very clear: this is just the beginning. As demand grows—and it will grow—we’ll renegotiate the terms. Additionally, I have another request. Do you know Charlotte?"
Marcel frowned and asked, "Miguel’s apprentice? The engineer?"
I shook my head in confirmation and said. "Exactly! I want her for myself. You’ll find a way to drug her. Either by getting her friends to put so narcotic in her drink or sothing worse. But I want her unconscious. I want to rape her and defile her with my dirty sperm." I gave him a strange smile.
Marcel didn’t react—he had lived long enough to see and hear all kinds of strange things. He simply extinguished his cigar in the ashtray, seemingly satisfied. "You’re sharp, kid. And you’ve got vision. Let’s see if your powder is as successful as you claim."
I extended my hand, and he shook it firmly. A deal had been made.
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