Imina, dressed in travel-worn brown boots, crossed the garden path with swift, purposeful strides. Her long legs carried her up to the stone table where Minori was seated. Without a word, she dropped onto the opposite bench, showing no concern for manners.
Bang!
A bulging coin pouch slammed onto the stone surface, making it tremble.
"Sixty-one silver coins and seven copper. I sold all one hundred of those potions you gave me."Her voice was flat, but the way her throat moved betrayed the temptation in her heart.
Minori raised an eyebrow."So fast? It's only been one night."
Amber eyes blinked once. Imina's gaze was sharp, almost amused."You've been holed up in this noble district the whole time. You've no idea how popular your healing potion is in the North Market. Even with its… odd smell."
She wrinkled her nose slightly at the memory.
That last comment made her glance—subtly—toward the source: the weakened ogre, chained to a stone chair nearby.
Indeed, the scent of his blood still lingered faintly in the air.
This had become the most profitable transaction she'd ever encountered.
All she had to do was help extract a little blood, and the alchemist would turn it into a miracle product. A potion that sold faster than bread.
Of course, she knew her thoughts were a bit crude—almost disrespectful to the man who'd created the potion.But in truth, compared to rare herbs, ogre blood cost practically nothing. It could even regenerate.
Minori watched her expression carefully, a faint smile curling on his lips.
He could guess what she was thinking.
After all, it had been Imina herself who helped him acquire the ogre—acting as middleman, putting him in contact with the underground traffickers in monstrous slaves.
Originally, he'd only planned to use the leftover herbs from his [Item Box].But after securing the ogre, he recalled the Hangman Spider's venom sac and had a sudden realization.
If a monster's natural properties could be harnessed like a reagent, then perhaps the ogre's regenerative blood could serve as a base for healing potions.
A gamble, certainly. But it had succeeded.
"I should correct you," Minori said calmly. "It's not a healing potion—it's an alchemical potion. The proper term is 'Regeneration Potion.'"
He reached out, took the coin pouch, and upended it.
Clink—clatter—
Dozens of silver coins spilled across the stone table, glinting in the early morning sun.
Imina's gaze reflexively followed the scattered coins.
Minori sorted through the pile, counted precisely, then slid eleven silver coins and seven copper toward her.
"Per our agreement, this is your share. Consider the copper coins your errand fee."
He swept the rest of the coins into his own pouch, not sparing another glance.
To him, this wasn't about profit. His true goal was attention—specifically, drawing the eye of a particular woman:
Leinas Rockbruise.
A former noble turned worker, afflicted by a horrific curse that rotted half her face. Her one obsession: to find a cure.
In canon, she would one day join the Empire's Four Horsemen, ultimately seeking the power of Nazarick—only to swear that, if a cure could be found, she'd betray even the Blood Emperor to seize it.
Minori understood this well.
A woman like her would investigate anything that offered a new kind of healing.
If she came to him…
Well, then many doors would open.
Across the table, Imina picked up the silver coins. A rare smile appeared on her cold, sharp face.
"How many potions do you have left? I'll buy them all," she said eagerly, eyes gleaming.
"Short on money?" Minori asked.
"Always."She leaned back, relaxed, speaking without a shred of shame.
As a half-elf—born of forest elves and humans—she was accepted by neither race.That meant limited work, no connections, and no support.
But money?
Money didn't care who you were.
Minori narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You're probably being watched now," he said mildly.
"So what?"She shrugged. "I'm just a middleman. The real risk is on you."
She wasn't wrong.
Still, she continued, "Your fifty gold coins weren't wasted. This district is for nobles. The imperial guards won't allow violence here, no matter how bold your enemies are."
Minori's lips curled slightly.
"Then let's make an even bigger scene."
"...What?"
Imina stared at him blankly.
"You're worrying about the wrong thing," Minori continued. "The issue isn't how many potions I can make—It's whether the ogre can keep providing blood."
He gestured to the creature, still breathing shallowly in its bindings."I hope you don't think ogres have limitless regeneration."
"...I'll handle it."Imina's voice was strained but determined.
She wouldn't let a chance at this kind of income vanish.
Minori nodded. "I'm counting on you, Miss Imina."
She was, after all, a local. Far more connected than he was.
Yet in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think of her future.
Two years from now, Imina would join a group called the Four Strategists—a worker team formed out of desperation for gold.
And what awaited them?
Death would have been a mercy.
In Nazarick, mercy didn't exist.
—
Imina, the sharp-tongued fighter, would be implanted with breeding eggs by the Hungry Fox Insect King.
Their captain? Turned into biomass.
The priest? Subjected to endless memory-wipe experiments, leaving him a hollow shell.
The worst was Alshe.Her body was dismembered and distributed like spoils:
Vocal cords to Entoma.
Head to the demon in the tall hat.
Arms to the Struggling Dead.
Skin to Demiurge, who praised the "aesthetic allocation."
The cruelty wasn't random.
It was systematic.
Minori's expression darkened briefly.
That worker team would never know it, but they were doomed the moment they entered Nazarick—because they were still alive.
And Nazarick… was not for the living.
"Hey, what's with that look?" Imina asked suddenly. She'd sensed a sudden chill, like a predator had entered the room.
She stared at Minori warily.
A moment later, that sense of dread vanished. The man before her was calm again, gentle even.
"Nothing. Just one more thing."Minori spoke softly, voice warm again.
"Can you check among the adventurers or workers for any who've suffered serious injuries or disfigurements? Tell them I've developed a new alchemical formula. I'll treat them for free."
"...Got it."
Imina squinted at him, but eventually nodded.
Then, without another word, she pulled her cloak tight, vaulted over the wall, and vanished into the morning haze.
Imperial Colosseum — Private Vault Chamber.
The luxurious room was filled with priceless weapons, but one object drew all attention:a single potion vial, placed reverently on the central desk.
Osco, the Empire's wealthiest merchant, stared at it for a long time.
At last, he spoke.
"Is this identification confirmed?"
A grizzled steward bowed low.
"Yes. We had the potion tested by apothecaries from every major workshop. The verdict is unanimous.An alchemical potion crafted from ogre blood. We know not the exact process—but all of them agree: it's not herbal in origin."
"And… the damage?" Osco asked slowly.
The steward flinched.
"Severe. The traditional pharmacies are already suffering. Demand has shifted almost overnight."
"And the King?"
"...He knows."The steward's voice trembled.
Osco said nothing.