Punk, having made up his mind to squeeze something out of the situation, locked eyes with Luo Taran and spoke slowly:
"So… what's the price?"
"What…?"
Luo Taran clearly hadn't expected this question.
Punk shook his head inwardly, a little disappointed. So she really was just a little girl, after all. Even with a strong heart, her mind still had its shortcomings.
But as the saying goes, you can't have both fish and bear's paw. If he wanted someone easy to control, he had to accept their lack of intelligence. For now, this was an unavoidable trade-off.
With a soft sigh, Punk decided it was necessary to educate this naïve girl. Since she was to be his spokesperson, he couldn't allow her to embarrass him.
"Listen, little girl."
Ignoring her muttered protest of "I'm not a little girl," Punk continued seriously:
"If you want to succeed in business, if you want to revive the Minohorn family through commerce, you must learn to accurately judge the value of goods—yours and others'. And 'goods' don't just refer to physical objects. Connections, favors, even a simple word of praise—everything is a resource to be leveraged."
Luo Taran was slightly dazed by Punk's lecture. She disliked being lectured by someone her own age, and she was even more unwilling to admit that she—a count's daughter—knew less about business than this young mage. But no matter how much she resisted, she had to admit… he made sense.
Punk, completely ignoring the frustration in her expression, continued.
"Take our cooperation as an example. I provide alchemy potions—that is my product. You provide the sales network—that is your product. In a fair transaction, profits are divided based on contribution. But now, you are requesting something extra—my reputation. That is another commodity. And like any commodity, if you want it, you must pay for it."
Luo Taran's head was spinning.
Punk rubbed his temples in mild frustration. It seemed that explaining economic principles from his past world was too much for an aristocratic girl of this one.
The old butler, however, understood immediately. He knew that if they offered nothing in return, there was no way an official mage would lend them his name. He had already prepared for this. Before Luo Taran could ask anything else, he quickly reached into his coat and retrieved a thin, timeworn book. Holding it with both hands, he respectfully presented it to Punk.
"Oh?"
Punk accepted the book, immediately sensing the faint residual traces of official-level magic. This book had once belonged to a proper mage.
Flipping open the aged, yellowed cover, he read the title page:
"Walkway's Notes on Flesh Golem Crafting."
"Walkway?"
Punk searched his memory, but he didn't recall any mage by that name. Likely just some obscure alchemist.
Skimming through the pages, he discovered the book contained a method for crafting official-level alchemical puppets, using animal bodies as the primary material. The notes were hastily written and somewhat unclear, but with his analytical ability, he was confident he could reconstruct the process.
"Very well. I accept this payment. You may now use my name for promotion."
Tucking the magic book into the storage ring he had taken from Menezi, Punk retrieved a gold coin, sealing a trace of magic within it. Any professional who sensed this magic would immediately recognize it as the endorsement of an official mage.
By this time, the carriage had arrived at the gates of Dolazi City.
Punk tossed the gold coin and three vials of alchemy potions toward Luo Taran. She yelped in surprise, fumbling to catch the coin while the potions rolled across the leather seat.
"A little test for you."
Admiring the golden, dye-painted city walls, Punk stepped out of the carriage and spoke without turning back:
"I will be heading to the Mage's Guild to purchase materials. Before I return to the city gates, you must sell all three bottles of alchemy potions."
Startled by the challenge, Luo Taran first nodded with confidence, then hesitated.
"If… um… if we fail to sell them all… does that mean the Minohorn family loses its chance to cooperate with you?"
Punk's lips curled into a slow smile as he turned to face her.
"No, no, my little friend. If you fail…"
His voice dropped into an icy whisper.
"I'll take your head."
Luo Taran's face instantly went pale. Her smile froze, and sweat trickled down her forehead.
"Uh… M-Mr. Punk… surely you're joking… haha…"
"Joking?" Punk tilted his head slightly. "I'm not joking."
He stepped forward, his cold gaze pinning her in place.
"Think about it. If failure only meant the loss of our partnership, what would you do? You'd run to every noble you could find, boasting about your 'official mage protector.' Then, when I left for some secluded town, you'd parade around using my name for prestige. That's a very typical aristocratic move, wouldn't you say?"
Punk's voice remained calm, but each word cut like a blade.
"I—I wouldn't do that…!"
Luo Taran was on the verge of tears. She had never been accused like this before—especially not by someone she had secretly begun to admire.
"Oh, I know you wouldn't," Punk interrupted flatly. "But can you say the same for those under you?"
The blue glow in his eyes swirled ominously as he glanced past Luo Taran—toward the old butler standing behind her.
The butler stiffened. Cold sweat drenched his back.
He had been caught.
Punk's deduction was perfectly accurate.
From the moment he heard the test, the butler had instinctively devised a scheme. He had planned to persuade his mistress to accept his idea—an idea that, to him, seemed perfectly reasonable. If they failed, they could simply leverage Punk's name, pretending they still had his support. They would gain prestige and protectionwithout being bound to a dangerous mage.
A perfect win.
But now, that little scheme had been destroyed before it even began.
The old butler shuddered.
Until today, he had considered Punk nothing more than an arrogant boy pretending to be a deep thinker.
Now…
He understood the truth.
This was not someone they could outmaneuver.