The carriage was a beauty. White oak, gold trim, and a crest on the door that screamed "I have never worked a day in my life."
It was currently tilted at a forty-five-degree angle in a muddy ditch.
From my Core room, I activated my [Remote Avatar] skill. It cost me a painful 200 Mana to project myself this far from the dungeon, but you have to spend money to make money.
My hard-light Avatar—still wearing the sharp business suit—materialized behind a tree line. I adjusted my tie, smoothed my hair, and stepped out onto the road.
The carriage driver was yelling at a wheel that was shattered beyond repair. Standing by the door, looking bored and slightly terrified, was a woman.
She was stunning, in that "high-maintenance asset" kind of way. Silk dress, too much jewelry, and a face that was currently twisted in a scowl. But my sensors picked up something else.
Name: Lady Elara
Role: Third Concubine to the Emperor
Status: Mana Deficiency (Stage 2).
Net Worth: Liquid. Very Liquid.
She was fading. In this world, if you don't have enough mana, you age faster. She was probably twenty-five but looked thirty-five under the makeup. She was running on fumes.
Perfect.
"Trouble with the logistics?" I asked, stepping into the light.
The driver reached for a sword, but Lady Elara held up a hand. She looked me up and down. My suit was foreign, my fabric impossible. I looked like money.
"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was breathy, practiced.
"I’m a consultant," I said, flashing the smile that had closed the merger with MicroTech back on Earth. "I specialize in... resource management. You look like someone who is running low on resources."
I wasn't talking about the wheel.
Her eyes widened slightly. She touched her cheek. "I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you do," I said, stepping closer. I lowered my voice. "The Church rations the mana, don't they? The Emperor gets the top shelf. The First Wife gets the rest. And the Third Concubine? You get the dregs. You’re fading, Elara. And in the Imperial Court, if you fade, you’re replaced."
She stiffened. "That is treasonous talk."
"It’s market analysis," I corrected.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, crystal vial of Mana-Gro. It glowed with a violent, electric blue intensity.
"What is that?" she whispered. She could feel the power radiating off it. Her body craved it like a starving man craves a steak.
"A sample," I said. "Pure. Uncut. No Church taxes. No prayers required."
I pressed it into her hand. "Drink it. If you like it, we can talk business."
She hesitated for exactly one second. Then, desperation won. She uncorked the vial and downed it.
The effect was instantaneous. Her skin flushed. The bags under her eyes vanished. The faint grey aura of decay around her soul snapped into a vibrant, healthy gold. She gasped, grabbing the side of the carriage for support.
"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, my gods."
"Better than the Church’s holy water, right?" I grinned.
She looked at me with hungry eyes. "I need more."
"And you shall have it," I said. "But not for gold. I don't need gold. I need a distribution network."
I leaned in, whispering in her ear. "You’re going to the Gala tonight. All the other concubines will be there. The bitter ones. The aging ones. The ones the Emperor ignores. I want you to give them a taste. Tell them you found a new 'beauty treatment.' Tell them it’s exclusive."
"You want me to be a... merchant?" she asked, clutching the empty vial.
"No, Elara. I want you to be a Partner. You sell this for me, and I’ll make sure you have enough supply to stay twenty-five forever. You’ll be the most powerful woman in the harem. You’ll control the supply."
This was the classic Multi-Level Marketing strategy. Weaponize the social circles of bored, wealthy people.
"How do I contact you?" she asked.
"You don't," I said, as my Avatar began to flicker. My time was up. "I’ll contact you. Just keep the carriage window open tonight."
I dissolved into blue sparks, leaving her standing in the mud, looking more alive than she had in years.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.