Chapter 41: Lehmann Yimantov

"Boss, your complexion doesn't look particularly good," remarked Raymond Ebanthov, staring in surprise at Born's face, pale as a vampire's. Had he not sensed Born's magic—balanced and serene—he might have thought Born was dabbling in negative energy.

"It's nothing; I'll be fine in a couple of days," Born replied, not wanting to dwell on the matter—after all, it was hardly something to boast about. "So, my general manager, what brings you here in person today?"

He was no longer surprised by Born's occasional odd remarks.

Raymond's expression grew serious as he handed Born a list. "This is the revenue from the past three months."

Born glanced over it quickly, his powerful mind processing the figures at once. Compared to last quarter, profits had grown, but there was still a deficit of thirty to forty thousand.

Born frowned. A mere financial report wouldn't warrant Raymond's visit, so he waited for further explanation.

"The sources for our three-leaf wood and live root grass have been affected," Raymond explained, his mood clearly troubled. "We failed to deliver to our clients on time and had to pay hefty penalties."

The loss of a few thousand gold coins wasn't the issue; it was the risk of damaging future business relationships. Raymond knew Born cared little for anything but magic, so he recounted the events in detail.

...

Not long after enrolling, Born realized many experiments were inconvenient to conduct in the mage tower's shared lab. The public area was crowded and noisy, and more importantly, its confidentiality was lacking. So he resolved to build his own laboratory.

Count Iorelum, irritated by Born's unorthodox methods, promptly cut off Born's monthly allowance. The sum was meager anyway, and Born hardly minded—he even scoffed at it.

Was it hard to make money?

He had never heard of a transmigrator who lacked funds.

Born had no interest in the tedious business of clothes, food, housing, or transport—too bothersome and energy-consuming, easily copied without proprietary technology. Weapons and armaments were costly.

Looking at most transmigrators, their rise often began with selling potions and earning their first bucket of gold.

Though this world had miraculous divine magic, not everyone could afford it. Each healing spell cost at least one gold coin; unless gravely injured, common folk avoided the temple's services.

The finest wound salves cost only about a silver coin.

Unlike most transmigrators, Born didn't need to operate in secrecy.

If he was going to do it, he'd do it big.

So he brought Raymond in as a partner. Raymond, a commoner with considerable talent but lacking resources, agreed to represent Born without hesitation upon hearing the plan.

Born sold his remaining credits, and under his direction, Raymond secured raw materials with advance payments. To build a reputation early on, they created simple, commonly used potions that anyone with basic herbal knowledge could make—wound salves, coagulants, and so forth.

Naturally, simple products meant many sellers.

But product sales aren't always about the product itself; sometimes, it's about creativity.

Born crafted the hemostatic potion as an external "dogskin plaster," printing the unique emblem of Raymond's guild on the packaging.

Previously, potions were always bottled liquids.

Raymond "negotiated" with a few notorious street toughs, who began wearing the plasters regardless of actual injuries. Then a handful of popular bards were sent to lively taverns to sing their praises.

Born himself visited small and mid-sized adventurer groups, offering bulk deals and reclaiming some advance payments, subtly displaying his strength and ties to Iorelum. The group leaders reasoned that it didn't matter whom they bought from, but giving the Count face was necessary. The price was fair, even cheap, and Born distributed vouchers: spend three hundred, save one hundred.

Within a week, orders poured in like snow, clearing the shelves of every store.

Born then instructed Raymond to swiftly reserve every local source of raw materials around Sevenden—this time, paying cash, in full, with a tenfold penalty for breach of contract.

Herb farmers, seeing Raymond's massive cash orders, eagerly signed contracts without even reading them.

Over the following months, Raymond's guild expanded at a staggering rate.

Other innovative merchants soon recognized the benefits of external-use potions and sought to imitate them, only to discover that all local raw materials had been booked for the year—by Raymond's guild.

Herbs, like fruit, wouldn't mature till next year at the earliest. Procuring from afar would take two or three months for delivery.

Meanwhile, Raymond's guild was the sole provider of the best-selling wound salve, rapidly expanding from the academy to the entirety of Sevenden thanks to booming traffic.

This inevitably infringed on the interests of established noble families, but upon investigation, they found Raymond was Born Iorelum's agent.

The Iorelum family was already involved in the potion industry and felt the impact themselves.

A deeper look revealed a rift between grandfather and grandson: oppression followed by rebellion.

This was entertaining! Money was inexhaustible, but a good show was rare. In tacit agreement, they let Raymond's guild flourish. For them, pharmaceuticals were just one industry segment—not critical.

They soon discovered that Born possessed not only extraordinary arcane talent but unparalleled business acumen.

As Raymond's guild grew, it began to compete directly with the Iorelum family.

Wherever there was an Iorelum store, a Raymond guild branch would soon appear beside it.

The Iorelums had deep roots and their own herb gardens. Whenever Raymond's guild launched a new product, the Iorelums would follow suit, matching the price and offering even higher quality.

Yet Raymond's guild consistently introduced innovative, practical products—medical bandages, powder medicines for internal and external use, VIP cards, recharge bonuses, group purchases.

Their business tactics and creativity were astonishing!

The Iorelum guild couldn't suppress Raymond's guild at all.

...

As the rivalry between Raymond's guild and the Count's escalated, small and mid-sized potion businesses across Sevenden folded one by one. Foresighted merchants, realizing the shift, found it was too late: Raymond's guild had become a major force within two or three years.

Over those years, Raymond's guild essentially monopolized the wound salve market in Sevenden, signing long-term supply contracts with every adventurer group.

After all, adventuring meant constant battles and injuries; a single mission could involve several fights, each requiring multiple doses. Thus, wound salve saw the fastest consumption.

Raymond himself never expected such profits from a simple wound salve, elevating the guild to industry giant status.

Recently, an epidemic swept through villages near Nather, disrupting raw material supplies and monthly quotas. Bound by contracts, they had to compensate for delays.

The money wasn't the issue; it was the risk to the guild's reputation.

After hearing Raymond's explanation, Born nodded, "List the shortfall for me. I'll make arrangements."

Raymond breathed a sigh of relief.

Born continued, "It's time to enter the second phase."

"Second phase? Isn't it too soon? The technology—" Raymond hesitated.

The past few years had been hectic, leaving little time for magical research, yet the flood of gold coins had made him deeply satisfied.

He feared change would bring failure.

"No problem. Do you think you can just sit back and collect money from those low-grade wound salves? If we could rise in two or three years, others can topple us just as quickly. There's no real technical barrier," Born declared. "Or do you want to be a commoner forever, your children doomed to the same fate?"

Raymond's commoner origins limited his perspective, despite Born's efforts to train him over the years. Time had been too short.

A hundred thousand might seem a fortune to a pauper, but to a billionaire, it's merely pocket money for the children.

"No! That's not it. I—" Raymond Ebanthov tried to explain.

"Stop! No need. Whether you want it or not is your own will; what matters is action," Born cut him off.

The opportunity was his; whether he seized it was up to him.

Turning, Born motioned for Raymond to follow.

They came to Born's underground laboratory. Raymond had visited several times, but each time, he looked around with envy—no mage could resist the allure of a private laboratory.

Born approached a bookshelf, snapped his fingers, and mechanisms clicked as the shelf slid aside, revealing a hidden door.

When they stepped inside, Raymond was stunned by the scene before him.

"An Arcane Garden?!"

...