Imina's brown boots tapped lightly against the stone floor as she strode forward, her slender legs moving with confidence.
Without the slightest hint of politeness, she sat down across from Sakeer.
Bang!
A bulging money pouch landed on the stone table with a heavy thud, making the surface tremble.
"Sixty-one silver coins and seven copper coins. The hundred healing potions you gave me are all sold. This is the full payment."
As she spoke, her throat moved slightly, betraying a subtle reaction to the sheer amount of money.
However—
Her expression remained cold and serious.
"That fast? It's only been one night."
Sakeer glanced at the money pouch, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.
Imina blinked, her amber eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
"You've been holed up in here, so you have no idea how popular your healing potions have become in the North Market."
She paused for a beat before adding—
"Aside from the taste… there's a bit of a fishy smell."
At that, her gaze shifted—
Turning toward the weakened troll tied to the stone chair nearby.
It was, without a doubt, the most profitable business she had ever encountered.
All she had to do was extract troll blood, and—
She could mass-produce healing potions.
…Alright, maybe that was a bit offensive to the alchemist sitting in front of her.
But still—
Compared to the hassle of gathering and blending herbs, this method had zero cost.
After all, trolls regenerated endlessly.
Sakeer noticed Imina's thoughtful gaze and let out a soft chuckle.
He could guess exactly what she was thinking.
Ironically, this troll was something Imina herself had sold to him.
At the time, she had merely acted as a middleman, unaware of what would come of it.
Originally, Sakeer had planned to use the remaining herbs in his storage box, but after acquiring this troll—
A new idea struck him.
Since the venom sacs of the Hanged Spider could be used in alchemy potions—
Then what about troll blood, with its naturally powerful regenerative properties?
Could it be used to synthesize a potion?
He hadn't expected it to actually work.
"Correction—" Sakeer said casually, his tone even.
"This isn't just a healing potion. It's an alchemy potion. The proper name is Regeneration Potion."
Reaching for the money pouch, Sakeer loosened the strings and poured the coins onto the table.
Ding~ Ding~ Ding~
A cascade of silver coins mixed with a few copper ones, shimmering under the morning sun.
Imina's gaze instinctively followed them—
Fixated on the rolling silver coins.
"As per our agreement, eleven silver coins are your commission. These seven copper coins—consider them your errand fee."
Sakeer separated a portion of the silver, sliding it toward her, before sweeping the rest back into the money pouch.
From the beginning—
Money had never been his goal.
His real purpose was to gain notoriety quickly.
To draw out Leinas—
Who had been desperately seeking a cure for her curse-ravaged face.
If she caught even a glimmer of hope, she would definitely come looking.
After all—
In the future, Leinas would join the Four Knights of the Empire, not out of loyalty, but because she was still chasing a cure.
She had even publicly declared that—
"If someone could lift my curse, I'd strike down the Blood Emperor myself."
Imina studied the silver coins in her hand, and—
For the first time—
A smile broke through her normally icy expression.
"How many potions do you have left? I can sell all of them."
Her amber eyes glimmered with undisguised greed.
"Are you short on money?"
Sakeer didn't answer directly, instead posing a question of his own.
"Of course not."
Imina leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed, her voice calm.
As a half-elf—a child of forest elves and humans—
She had never been fully accepted by either race.
At the very least—
Money didn't discriminate.
"By now, you must know that people are watching you."
Sakeer's smile was faint, but knowing.
"So what?"
Imina lifted her chin, entirely unbothered.
"I'm just a middleman. The real problem is you."
Then, with a slight smirk—
"Besides, your fifty gold coins weren't spent in vain. This is a noble district, and across from us is the Imperial Central Square. Even if someone wants to cause trouble, they wouldn't dare do it here."
"Then let's make an even bigger fuss."
Sakeer's smirk widened.
"What do you mean?"
Imina blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
Sakeer gestured toward the troll strapped to the stone chair.
"Right now, the real question isn't about whether the potions will sell—"
His eyes darkened slightly, a hint of amusement playing at his lips.
"It's whether or not the troll can provide enough blood."
Imina's expression stiffened.
Her gaze flickered toward the troll, and realization dawned.
Trolls were infamous for their regenerative abilities—
But they weren't truly immortal.
"You don't actually believe their regeneration is limitless, do you?"
For a moment, Imina was silent.
Then—
She gritted her teeth and gave a firm nod.
"I'll figure it out."
This was too good an opportunity to walk away from.
And she had no intention of letting it slip through her fingers.
"Then I'll be troubling you, Miss Imina," said Sakeer with a nod.
The half-elf before him, Imina, was a local and therefore far more convenient to rely on than himself—an outsider.
Speaking of which...
Her fate in the future was rather tragic.
Based on the timeline, in two years, she would join a worker team known as "Foresight," motivated by a simple desire—to earn more money.
The so-called "worker teams" were essentially adventurers who had not joined the Adventurer's Guild. They operated independently, unbound by regulations, taking on any commission at their discretion, dictated only by personal choice and financial incentive.
But in the end...
They became nothing more than nameless casualties in the conflict between the Baharuth Empire and the Great Tomb of the Bone King.
Imina and her team leader suffered a horrifying fate at the hands of the Chaos Beast, one of the Five Evils of the Sixth Floor. They were forcibly implanted with insect eggs, their bodies repurposed as breeding nests for the swarm.
Another member, a priest, became an unfortunate test subject for the Bone King's memory experiments. His mind was wiped clean, reducing him to nothing more than an empty husk.
Yet the worst fate befell a girl named Arche, also part of the "Foresight." Every part of her was put to use.
Her vocal cords were gifted to Ammat, one of the maids. Her head went to the Tall Hat Demon. Her arms were divided equally among the Struggling Dead. And her skin—claimed by Demiurge.
A truly efficient distribution.
A cold glint flashed through Sakeer's eyes. This was no longer a question of mere tragedy.
From the very beginning, the living and the undead of the "Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick" had been destined for irreconcilable conflict.
"Hey, what's with that look?"
Imina suddenly sensed an inexplicable chill in the air. For the first time, she felt a faint but unmistakable sense of danger emanating from the alchemist before her.
Her eyes flickered with surprise. Had she misjudged Sakeer all along?
"Nothing."
"I just need to trouble you with one more thing—help me investigate which adventurers or workers are seriously injured or disabled."
"Let's say... I've developed a more effective alchemical potion, and I'm willing to treat them free of charge."
Sakeer's expression returned to its usual calm gentleness as he spoke softly.
"...No problem."
Imina studied Sakeer carefully. No matter how she looked at him, he didn't seem particularly strong.
And yet, that unsettling feeling from earlier hadn't been an illusion.
Without lingering, she pulled her black robe back over herself, swiftly climbed the wall, and disappeared into the night.
The Imperial Grand Arena.
A lavishly furnished room adorned with finely crafted weapons.
Osk, the most influential merchant in the empire, sat in silence, his gaze fixed on a small bottle of potion resting atop his desk.
A long pause.
At last, he spoke slowly. "Is the identification of this potion accurate?"
"The alchemists from all major workshops in the imperial capital have examined it. Their conclusions are unanimous—this is an alchemical potion crafted with ogre blood as its primary ingredient."
"As for the exact process... it's unknown. The major workshops have suffered significant losses since this potion appeared." The middle-aged man dressed as a butler reported in a low voice.
Osk, however, seemed indifferent to the financial loss of the workshops. Instead, he hesitated before asking, "Does the Emperor know?"
"He does," the butler replied, his voice trembling slightly.