A check from House Kardenos, not some scrap of paper.
The man slammed his head against the floor without even noticing the pain.
"I'm guilty of a crime deserving death!"
"Older Brother?!"
He wasn't like those ignorant street thugs.
He'd realized at once what the paper Astin had tossed meant.
Blond hair, golden eyes, and aristocratic features.
A relaxed demeanor even with a blade at his throat.
Even so, it was only natural that he hadn't recognized him.
What could possibly bring the Young Master of Kardenos here?
That obvious misjudgment was about to cost him his life.
"Please, spare me, Young Master!"
"Young Master? What are you talking about..."
"Get on your knees, you idiots! He's the Young Master of Kardenos!"
"Huh?!"
"Young Master!"
Crash!
The entire gang belatedly dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
Astin glanced over them indifferently, then shot Kyle a sidelong look.
Kyle flinched, and just before he bent his knees, Astin stopped him.
"Please, sit comfortably, Workshop Owner."
It sounded like the roles had been reversed, but Kyle had no choice but to obey.
Astin wasn't just any noble. He was the Young Master of Kardenos.
Kyle sat in the chair, hunched over.
Knowing that the Young Master of Kardenos was right in front of him made it even harder to breathe.
He'd have found it less intimidating if the whole Jenkinson family had shown up.
'Is this the aura of a Grand Duke's house...?'
Kyle wanted to ask what had brought the Young Master here, but he pressed his lips together.
Before he knew who Astin was, he'd seemed like some minor noble.
Now even saying a single word to him required a solemn effort.
To them, Astin was an irresistible force.
"Anyway, this place is a mess."
Clap!
"Clean up."
Astin clapped his hands and spoke.
The men looked at one another, confused, until Astin's cold gaze fell on them.
"I said clean up."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The men hurried to start cleaning.
The change was quite dramatic.
They were nothing like the men who'd been threatening to kill them with weapons moments ago.
Kyle stared at them blankly, then snapped back to his senses at Astin's next words.
"You have quite a lot of things here."
"Y-Yes!"
Astin stroked his chin as he surveyed the shelves covering the wall.
Hundreds of vials sealed with cork stoppers.
Even among the irregular spectrum of colors, there was a strange pattern.
"Did you make all of these, Workshop Owner?"
"Y-Yes..."
"What does that red vial do? It looks quite good."
Kyle's eyes widened. The intent behind Astin's question was as sharp as a blade's edge.
The item he'd pointed out wasn't a simple painkiller, but a compound medicine made with sophisticated blending techniques.
"Y-Young Master, you have an excellent eye. That's a coagulant that temporarily slows the blood flow when someone is struck by a magical beast's venomous stinger."
"Excellent. It's on a whole different level from the cheap healing potions sold on the market. What about that green vial?"
"Goodness! Th-that's a liquid salve that neutralizes burns on the mucous membranes caused by exposure to acidic poison! I refined both of those using my own formulas... Did you know what they were when you asked?"
Astin gave a faint smile before replying.
"Your skill is so impressive that even an amateur like me can see how effective they are."
Kyle's lips twitched upward.
Having a customer recognize his skill scratched an itch he'd never been able to reach.
And this customer wasn't just any noble.
He was the Young Master of Kardenos!
Kyle had gone from hell to heaven in just ten minutes.
"It seems mercenaries and Knights are your main customers."
"That's right, but I take other customers as well. I carry ordinary cold medicine, and I handle elixirs in addition to remedies."
A bright smile spread across Kyle's face as he spoke. It was quite a pleasant expression.
"Do you have anything in development of your own, besides your existing medicines?"
"Yes, I do. But it hasn't undergone clinical trials yet, so it hasn't been verified. It would be risky to put it on the market too soon."
"What kind of medicine is it?"
"Well... Simply put, it's an antidote that forcibly breaks down lethal toxins inside the body. I designed it to prevent cell necrosis when exposed to Demonic Energy or Poisonous Miasma."
An antidote that could even suppress Demonic Energy.
Astin's golden eyes gleamed.
"Could you show me a sample, even if it's unfinished?"
Kyle hesitated, but only for a moment.
This man was a Kardenos, and a valuable customer who'd recognized his skill. Surely he could grant such a simple request.
Kyle opened the safe at the back of the workshop and carefully took out a vial that shimmered blue.
The liquid rippled inside the glass, radiant and without a single impurity.
Astin took the vial, tilted it back and forth, then let out an admiring gasp.
"To achieve this level of purity... Your skill has reached the highest level. Did you make it alone?"
"N-No. I have three apprentices."
"Even so, your skill is unbelievable."
"Ha-ha, I won't deny it. I take pride in my skill, too."
It wasn't arrogance. It was pride.
"Good. I like this very much. I'd like to make a major contract with you, Workshop Owner."
"...What? A-A contract?"
Kyle's eyes widened.
Hadn't he just come to buy some goods? A contract with Kardenos? Or was it just the Young Master's personal decision?
Kyle's thoughts spiraled out of control.
"Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd bring you into the family as a retainer."
"A-A retainer?! A retainer of the Grand Duke's house?!"
An offer to become a retainer, beyond a mere contract.
Kyle was on the verge of collapsing from shock.
He'd spent his life as a back-alley workshop owner with no ties to the nobility.
Now a golden lifeline called Kardenos had descended to him.
Or so he'd thought, for a moment.
"I'd like to, but I can't actually do that."
"...Ah. I see. Of course, that makes sense. Ha-ha..."
Kyle's excitement quickly faded after getting ahead of himself.
What business did someone like him have becoming a retainer of a Grand Duke's house?
Kyle was grateful enough just to get an order contract.
"Let's sign a three-year contract for you to serve as my personal alchemist. I'll make sure the signing bonus is generous—generous enough that you'll think it's too much."
"...Pardon?"
"A fixed salary, plus a ten percent sales incentive. I'll pay for research separately, and provide top-tier equipment and housing. I'll also cover the wages for your assistants. Ah, since you'll be working directly for me, you'll receive an allowance for maintaining your appearance, too."
Kyle's eyes went vacant. His nostrils and lips stretched as wide as they could.
Astin continued calmly, unfazed.
"If I bring you in as a retainer, there'll be a lot of opposition within the family. For now, it's better to give you the title of someone who works directly for me. No one can object if it's just personal patronage."
Astin picked up a piece of parchment lying on the workshop floor.
"Once your skills are recognized as an alchemist, you'll become a retainer. You'll keep the same title, too."
"A-A retainer..."
Ink spread across the parchment beneath the pen's tip.
Whoosh!
He set down the pen and held up the parchment.
"This is a simplified contract. Once we reach the family estate, we'll draw up the official version."
The contract included everything Astin had mentioned.
Gulp—
Kyle felt the weight of saliva in his throat. Everything about the situation seemed unreal.
"Why are you doing so much for me...?"
Kyle still couldn't accept reality as real.
Astin felt a little sorry for him. He had the qualifications, yet all he did was doubt himself.
"Take pride in your skill."
"...Ah."
Drip.
A single tear fell.
Astin looked at him, then turned his gaze to the contract.
He signed it, then slid it across the desk to Kyle.
He waited without a word until Kyle had composed himself.
"Thank you. Thank you..."
Kyle held back his tears and finished the contract with trembling hands.
While Kyle swallowed back his tears, Astin beckoned over the large man.
He was the man who'd laid hands on Astin earlier.
"Y-Yes, Young Master."
Wham!
"Ugh!"
A swift punch smashed into the man's nose. His head snapped back, and blood streamed from both nostrils.
Astin grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close.
He smeared the man's blood thickly onto the Kardenos signet ring, using his nose as a seal.
Thud!
The bloodstained signet ring pressed firmly against the contract.
"Now you can't back out, Workshop Owner."
"B-Back out? I would never! Put me to work as much as you like! I'll devote my life to the glorious House Kardenos!"
"Don't devote your life to us. You'll work yourself to death."
"Ha-ha! That won't happen."
No, you really will work yourself to death. You did in the first run.
He couldn't exactly say that, which was frustrating.
'I should make sure the official contract specifies mandatory rest periods.'
Astin set aside his thoughts and looked around at the men.
The moment his gaze landed on them, they moved twice as fast as before.
"Come here."
They hurriedly stopped cleaning and moved in unison. Soon, they were lined up in front of Astin.
Their discipline was impressive enough.
"Show me where your boss is."
***
An elegant mansion with Rag Town's back alleys in the South under its thumb.
"How can you still not have done it?!"
Baron Kelton, a fat man, shouted, spraying saliva.
"You're holding up business because you can't even persuade one bastard! Don't you know time is money? Do you have any idea how much money we've lost?!"
"I'm well aware."
Jenkinson, sunk deep into a luxurious sofa, quietly drew on his cigar.
Murky smoke rose between his thick fingers. Even as his employer raged like a fool, he did nothing but puff out smoke.
On the surface, they were business partners, but in reality, Jenkinson was Baron Kelton's attack dog.
Even knowing that, Jenkinson chose to be an attack dog.
Kelton was a real noble, a capable businessman, and the owner of a major trading company.
Under him, Jenkinson could live like the king of a region.
He could even kill the riffraff whose only claim to nobility was their titles without any trouble.
"I told you, no one has no weaknesses! Those brats doing odd jobs for that bastard, right? His three apprentices!"
Phew—
Jenkinson let out a long stream of smoke before answering.
"I've already sent my men to the workshop, so they'll be back with an answer soon. I made it very clear that if he keeps refusing, they should pull out his apprentices' tongues one by one."
"That's right! You should've done that from the start! He knows we can't touch him, so we have to use the brats under him!"
The Baron smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together.
"How could he hold out while watching his apprentices get crippled right in front of him? Now it's time to make money. You and me, rolling in it!"
A mountain of gold coins seemed to glitter in his greedy eyes.
Jenkinson nonchalantly kept his cigar between his lips.
"Money, huh."
There were things that money could never buy, no matter how much of it one had.
Jenkinson's body and heart had been chasing after one such thing in vain.
He'd finally realized he could never reach the stars and chosen money instead.
"Heh... Just you wait. Kyle's going to be a goose that lays golden eggs."
Unlike Jenkinson, Kelton, the Merchant Guild Master, cared about nothing but money.
To him, Kyle was a treasure chest overflowing with fortune.
Kyle had made countless batches of addictive painkillers, and he'd developed his own formulas as well.
His true value lay in the high-purity painkillers he could produce.
An alchemist who'd mastered the art of making powerful anesthetic painkillers.
All it would take was a slight adjustment to the mixture of an existing painkiller to turn it into a potent drug for the underworld.
Kyle simply hadn't had his chance to shine yet.
Kelton had been the first to recognize his true worth.
I'm clearly a master at sniffing out money. Baron Kelton chuckled to himself.
Bang!
"W-What?!"
Kelton jumped in fright and let out a squeal like a pig being slaughtered.
Jenkinson, who'd been trying to look imposing, frowned and got to his feet as well.
A figure appeared through the doorway, hinges and all, smashed to pieces.
"Hey—"
Behind him stood the men Jenkinson had sent to the workshop.
In front of them, a blond man sauntered in. It was Astin.
"Well, all the druggies are gathered here, huh?"
"Who the hell are you?!"
Kelton pointed at him and shouted.
Just as Astin was about to answer, Jenkinson cut in first.
"You look like a womanizer. The sort who'd spend the night in bed with women, then light up a cigarette."
Astin was stunned for three seconds at the blunt insult.
It sounded familiar, and then he realized he'd heard it before.
"Funny how it depends on who's saying it. It didn't bother me at all when they said it."
They'd said it was a compliment, not an insult.
A compliment about how handsome he was.
"Are you saying I'm handsome, too?"
"I'm saying you look like a whore."
"You're dead."