[You have achieved the impossible!]
[You are the first to kill a ’7th-grade’ monster.]
[100 coins have been awarded.]
[The constellation ’Amused Prankster’ feels delighted by the chaos you made.]
[100 coins have been sponsored.]
For a long mont, I did not move at all. The pain flooding through my body was too overwhelming to allow even a single step. So I simply lay on the dead body of Titanoboa like the good boy I was...
Spectre appeared before , his gaze sweeping across the Titanoboa I had reduced to ruin. For the first ti since I t him, his expression cracked with genuine shock.
But there was sothing beneath that shock. There was a thin strand of hope. A small, dangerous ambition to rise as the Lord of the Stories.
"Oi, stop daydreaming and open the scenario shop again."
I forced my trembling hand to move, pulled up the interface, and quickly purchased a potion before gulping it down without hesitation. This one cost a thousand coins, and the difference was imdiate.
Warmth spread through my body as torn flesh began to knit itself back together. The pain receded enough for to breathe properly again.
{I never expected you to use the gas inside the snake to kill it. You are the first being I have witnessed who has completed this scenario in such a way...}
There was a brief pause before he continued.
{I am ready to form a contract. All earnings will be split between us, with thirty percent in your favor and seventy percent in mine.}
I stared at Spectre for a second as I heard his offer. Then I let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"Do you take for a fool? I am the one fighting and risking my life, and you expect to hand over seventy percent to you? Find soone else to scam."
{Thirty percent is already a lot. Any more, and I would be the one at a loss.}
"Loss?" I scoffed. "What loss? Your viewers must be increasing because of , and with them, your inco. If anything, you are profiting more because of my actions."
{Your words aren’t wrong... Fine. We can do fifty-fifty.}
Spectre said it after a brief silence, his expression settling into sothing almost sympathetic as if he understood what I ant.
That alone told everything.
This sly bastard had been aiming for this from the start.
The unfair opening offer, the calm retreat, the fake compromise as soon as I revolted... it was all calculated. It was a classic anchoring tactic.
You start with an absurd offer to set the reference point. Once that number sticks in the other person’s mind, even a slightly better deal starts feeling good. The other person thinks they won, when in reality, they were guided exactly where you wanted them.
In short, he was not negotiating to reach the middle.
He was dragging the middle to where it benefited him the most.
I let out a quiet chuckle, my eyes narrowing slightly.
"Not bad... but you picked the wrong guy to try that on."
After all, I worked in marketing too. I might not have been the best at it, but losing a deal to a pig was a bit too low, even for .
"One hundred percent of the earnings this channel makes will be mine. Every coin from subscriptions, every coin from advertisents. You already earn enough from the tax cut when constellations donate to their incarnations."
Spectre’s eyes widened.
Yes, Hosts received a small portion of every donation made on their channel as tax. At first, it seed insignificant, but when thousands of constellations started sponsoring their incarnations with large sums, the total stacked up quickly.
There were a few ways a channel made money, and I knew every single one of them.
The first was subscriptions. Constellations had to pay a monthly fee to access a channel. Popular channels run by high-ranking Hosts charged absurd amounts, while smaller channels like Spectre’s barely earned anything.
The second was advertisents. Constellations across the universe sold all kinds of products, and they paid to run ads on channels with good traffic.
And I planned to take all of it.
{You demon! You are trying to scam ! What will I earn if you take everything!}
"You will still earn from taxes," I replied calmly. "And more importantly... isn’t your goal to beco the Lord of the Stories?"
He froze.
"Join , Spectre. I will make you the Lord of the Stories. I will take you to the end of the scenarios. I will show you what lies at the world’s end."
My words echoed in his ears.
For the first ti, his businesslike deanour completely disappeared. His mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes shook with sothing that looked dangerously close to desire.
{You know about the world’s end?}
I did not answer. I simply gave a small nod.
{...}
He fell silent, clearly thinking.
"Make it quick," I said lazily. "Or I will just join Beluga’s channel."
{No! No! I accept! Just... show what lies at the world’s end.}
A faint smile ford on my lips.
And just like that... that was how you sold dreams.
It was basic marketing.
You did not sell the product itself. You sold what the product ant.
People did not buy expensive clothes for the fabric. They bought status. They did not buy gym mberships for the machines. They bought the idea of becoming better.
They did not buy courses for knowledge. They bought the promise of success.
It was always the sa pattern.
Find what people desire, wrap it in a simple promise, and make it feel just within reach. I had done nothing different.
I did not offer Spectre a deal. I offered him a future. And he bought it.
Soon, the contract appeared in front of us, and the deal was finalised.
Now it was ti for the third scenario...
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