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Taragon’s intoxication vanished in an instant, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“There are more… elixirs?”
He lowered his voice and covered his mouth as if afraid someone might overhear.
Keter, in a smooth, tempting tone of a man selling mood-enhancing substances, replied, “Of course, I got another one just for you, Big Brother.”
Gulp.
Taragon hesitated.
Was this really okay?
He had already taken the Pure Spirit Pellet that was meant for Anis, and now, he was about to snatch up a second one.
No, this time, I should let Anis have it. Even after taking the Pure Spirit Pellet, I still couldn’t surpass him.
Unaware that Anis had also bought the same pill, Taragon felt a deep sense of despair. Even with an advantage, he had failed to outmatch his older brother.
Just then, Keter, who had been carefully watching the shift in Taragon’s expression, leaned in.
“You're not seriously thinking of giving it up to Anis, are you? Have you lost your mind? What do you think people will say if he places in the Southern Sword Tournament and you don’t?” he whispered.
“...Huh?!”
“Well, whatever. I don’t care who buys it, as long as I get paid.”
As Keter made a move to leave, Taragon instinctively grabbed his wrist.
“I-I'll take it. How much? You can write a promissory note, right?”
“One hundred seventy thousand.”
Thud!
Taragon’s chair toppled over, as he almost tripped as he stood up. Luckily, the rowdy mercenaries, lost in their drunken revelry,...
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