Don't Burn Them! Even Witches Have Value!

Lynn covered his swollen, reddened left cheek and sat beside Griffin, looking utterly dejected:

"Was there something wrong with my sales pitch?"

For some unknown reason, the moment Lady Helen had seen that pile of flawless charcoal lying on the exquisite velvet cloth, her expression had turned blacker than the charcoal itself.

She had then raised her hand, slapped Lynn hard across the face, and walked off without so much as a backward glance.

The corner of Griffin's mouth twitched, and he had absolutely no desire to answer this question.

Though, had Miss Elysia been present, she likely would have delivered a matching slap to the Baron's right cheek, followed by a roar of:

"Everything was wrong with it!"

He took a deep breath, then patted Lynn on the shoulder:

"My lord, you've mooched the free things, you've done your sales pitch, and you've taken your beating, shouldn't we get down to actual business now?"

"Actual business?"

Lynn raised an eyebrow and looked at Griffin with an expression one gives to an idiot:

"Haven't I been doing actual business this whole time?"

As far as he was concerned, making money and saving money were the main quest — everything else was merely a side quest.

That's right, in order to complete the main quest, he needed to work even harder.

What had just happened a moment ago must have simply been a fluke — there was no way his earth-shattering brilliance could fail him like that!

Watching Lynn rub his chin once again, Griffin felt a wave of helplessness:

"I'm sorry, Miss Elysia, but I truly am at a loss here."

Lynn's gaze swept across the banquet hall like radar, and before long, he had locked onto a new target——

It was a wealthy merchant with a beer belly, sporting more than a dozen jeweled rings, loudly boasting to those around him about the purebred Dragon City warhorse he had just purchased.

Amid the half-hearted murmurs of agreement from the nobles around him, he looked every bit like a clown on a stage.

However, it was clear he was not entirely oblivious to this fact.

Fine beads of sweat covered his bare, empty scalp, and his smile was gradually turning awkward.

Lynn's nostrils flared once again:

"The perfect mark……ah, no, I mean, a quality customer."

Lynn straightened his collar, put on a refined and enigmatic smile, and walked over with wine glass in hand.

"My horse is a descendant of the very steed ridden by Milan's Conquering Emperor a hundred years ago!

If everyone would like to come see it, then please be sure to honor me with your presence at that time……"

Just as the merchant, who was straining to ingratiate himself with the noble social circle, was about to extend his invitation, a voice cut him off.

"Truly a fine horse, however……"

That voice let out a sigh, carrying a tone of slight regret mixed with condescension:

"What a pity, even with the finest of steeds, if one's taste in entertaining guests fails to keep pace, in the end, one will still be looked down upon."

The merchant, interrupted right as he was getting into the swing of his boasting, had felt a flash of irritation at first.

But when he turned his head and saw Lynn carrying himself with the air of utter confidence, as though a great noble surveying his domain, he was instantly cowed:

"You…my lord, what exactly do you mean by that?"

Lynn did not rush to answer. Instead, he pointed at the rings adorning the man's fingers, displayed like some kind of exhibit:

"Let me ask you, why do you wear so many rings?"

The merchant's expression shifted, and Lynn continued:

"Because you want to prove your wealth, and you're trying to make yourself look distinguished through this method."

Having dissected the other party's psychology with pinpoint precision, Lynn let out a sigh:

"And this is precisely the fundamental reason you are unable to integrate into a truly distinguished circle."

Hearing this, the merchant, his face having turned the color of pig's liver, wanted to retort, but found he had no idea what to say at all.

Attending the Viscount of White Pine's banquet was an opportunity he had spent a fortune to obtain.

But now that he had actually arrived, he discovered that he simply could not gain the nobles' approval, let alone speak of forming friendships or legitimate business dealings with them.

"…Why is this happening? There is no way I have less money than anyone else here. My ancestors built up an enormous fortune through trade."

His expression turned dejected.

"Because you do not fit in with them. Your inner nature may be difficult to change, but you are not even willing to align yourself with them on the outside.

What does it mean to display nobility? Is it merely a pile-up of wealth? Merely an accumulation of riches?

Of course not, otherwise, why wouldn't everyone simply wear garments woven with gold thread?

What truly determines the standard by which a person is seen as noble is the nobles themselves."

Lynn said this with a smile on his face:

"Wearing clothing they deem appropriate, using cosmetics they consider elegant, eating food they consider dignified……

The noble circle is, after all, a circle defined by the nobles themselves, only by aligning with their fine-grained standards can one be accepted by their arrogance."

Hearing these words, the merchant's small eyes, squeezed in by his fat, went wide with shock.

Sometimes, certain truths can only be discovered and accepted once someone else points them out.

However, he also felt something strange about these words:

"You speak as though you yourself were not one of them."

"Me? Haha, hahaha."

As though he had heard the biggest joke in the world, Lynn could not help but burst out laughing:

"My good sir, if there is anyone here who resembles me, then I'm afraid it would only be you."

He narrowed his eyes, his expression turning serious despite the smile still on his face:

"Because I am a merchant. I was one before, I am one now, and I will continue to be one in the future. I may carry the title of a noble, but I will never identify with it."

"A merchant?"

The merchant, not quite following this train of thought, looked somewhat surprised:

"Then what is it that you sell?"

Lynn's smile grew even more radiant:

"Why, of course, I sell the things that nobles themselves approve of……Griffin!"

After opening that exquisite wooden box once more, Lynn did not launch back into his sales pitch, and instead simply said:

"This is a product of my fief, it is also the very same Special Grade Charcoal that the Viscount of White Pine himself uses.

Come to think of it, you wanted to invite the nobles over to your home earlier, didn't you.

Well, if your fireplace is burning charcoal that isn't recognized by them, they would notice immediately, you know."

As he spoke, he gently picked up a perfect hexagonal piece of charcoal and held it up before the merchant, whose eyes had gone completely fixed on it:

"One hundred percent smokeless, and when burned, it carries a faint, elegant fragrance of ancient wood.

It is a symbol of status, an embodiment of one's pedigree.

When this black gold burns in your fireplace, even if you're serving your guests plain water, they will still think you elegant and distinguished."

The merchant swallowed hard, clearly having been thoroughly won over:

"This is charcoal supplied exclusively to nobles, it would be far too vulgar to discuss money. Normally, it's only exchanged as gifts between acquaintances…

But as it happens, I sent over too much to the Viscount of White Pine this time, and I have ten extra boxes to spare. Meeting like this must be fate granted by the divine, so let's say, ten gold coins."

Griffin stared in disbelief as Lynn accepted the money pouch.

A pile of charcoal? Ten gold coins?

Wasn't this faster than robbery?

"Heh heh, I told you, that woman earlier was simply a fluke."

Lynn, intoxicated with his own success, regained his confidence once more.

To prove that he could charm both men and women alike, he decided to find another woman as his next target.

Before long, he once again set his sights on a magnificent prospect.

It was a young married woman with long, flowing black curls, dressed in a black formal gown, her skin like snow-white fat, seeming to hide herself away in a corner.

Her ravishing brows and eyes carried a trace of deep, heavy melancholy as she quietly gazed out at the night scenery beyond the window.

Just as she seemed to have become one with the night view outside the window, Lynn's voice broke the stillness beside her:

"Beautiful lady, standing alone in the cold draft must surely make you feel chilled. Don't worry, I happen to have something here that can resolve your troubles."

As though drawn in by Lynn's voice, her gaze slowly shifted, moving toward where he stood.

This looked promising!

Just as Lynn was preparing to take things a step further, a familiar voice called out from behind him:

"Lord Lynn! I didn't expect you to actually make it here today! This is wonderful!"

He turned around to look, and there indeed was the Viscount of White Pine, his face full of delight.

"What a coincidence — have the two of you already started chatting?"

After walking over, the Viscount looked at Lynn, then raised his hand to gesture toward the young married woman beside him, introducing her with a smile on his face:

"Lord Lynn, you haven't met her on your previous visit.

This here is my beloved wife.

Lilith, this is Lord Lynn."

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