When I went to visit someone who handled liquor, I found a woman named Molly—a half-blood of dragonkin and sea-folk.
I now understood why Herkov had trouble with her every time.
When they said she persistently demanded increased production, it wasn't a metaphor. Apparently, she literally clung to him begging.
"Herkov, I'll do the talking."
I lifted the hood I was wearing.
"What's this? Bringing a gift of spirits for your father?"
"Ah, that might be nice. But I don't have confidence I can explain how I obtained it, so I'll save that for next time."
"So... Hey, Herry, where did you bring this young master from?"
How had she already figured out I was from the upper class just from that exchange?
"He's the child of an old colleague of mine. Just asked me for a bit of help, not forcing anything."
"Sorry to disturb your work. But please give me a moment."
"Oh my, such a well-mannered child. Quite refined for someone Herry brought. I wonder if your mother raised you well?"
"It's thanks to my tutors and wet nurses."
"Oh my, truly a young master..."
Ah, I see.
Private tutors are rare in normal households, and you can't hire them without money.
Speaking of which, giving my father alcohol as a gift—gift-quality liquor is a luxury item. The fact that I could even speak of such things meant she could imagine my lifestyle.
If I kept talking carelessly, I'd be exposed.
Alright, I didn't have time to escape, so let's get straight to the point.
"Please look at this."
I handed over the memo paper I'd brought.
Molly received it with a pleasant smile frozen on her face.
"I made this. I've improved the aroma and mouthfeel of the alcohol you're currently distributing."
Seeing Molly frozen in place, Herkov let out a huge sigh and tapped Molly's shoulder with his large bear's paw.
"Hey, come back to reality. This is real. And this is the answer to why you've been nagging me about why we can't increase production."
Molly raised her face from the memo with a creaking movement like a rusty door.
"This, Dinker—you made this?"
"Yes. I don't understand the taste of alcohol, so I asked Herkov where to sell it. He's just helping me raise funds, so there's nothing he can do even if you ask him to increase production."
Again with that creaking movement, Molly looked at Herkov.
"Well, let me add a bit more. Dinker has some family circumstances. His father remarried and had a son with the new wife. His mother has already passed, and the remarried side holds the power."
She was saying something incredible.
"In other words, anticipating being kicked out of the house eventually, so he's raising funds now? Such a child? Ah, so it's the power of the remarried partner's family. The adults find it more profitable to abandon one child."
Molly spoke without beating around the bush.
But perhaps this was where they got along.
However, Molly put her hand on her hip with a heavy expression.
Was she worried about me being a child?
No—here I should convert any sympathy into initiative to move the conversation forward.
"So here's my proposal. I want to raise funds, but I can't hide from my family to make alcohol any more than I already am. And you said you'd have confidence selling even a hundred times the current amount."
At my confirmation, Molly showed a troubled expression but didn't interrupt.
"The base alcohol is what you prepare. Then you have the capital to arrange a hundred times the amount. In that case, I have ideas, and you have the ambition to want the product."
At my words, Molly's expression changed bit by bit.
It was no longer the look of seeing a pitiful child abandoned by his parents.
It was an appraising gaze that even felt cold and calculating—the eyes of a business partner.
"To make it, we just need rooms and equipment. You scale up that equipment and create a mass production system. Then you can increase production as desired. In exchange, I receive compensation for providing the idea. Isn't that a good deal?"
"That's the kind of deal that only becomes good if it succeeds. First, you're talking about scaling up equipment to make such high-purity alcohol? In other words, creating something that doesn't exist from scratch? Do you understand how much money and time that would take?"
I raised one hand to stop Herkov, who was about to speak.
"If you can do it in a year, that would certainly prove your competence."
"Oh, you know the competitive nature of dragonkin? But sorry. I'm also a merchant. I can't waste money on mere provocation."
Molly brushed back her hair.
"We can sell because there's already alcohol out there. It's trending right now. Wait a year, and the topic's expiration date will have passed. Cheap imitations will circulate immediately, and even if you can mass produce in a year, it won't sell."
Molly raised other issues too.
To make equipment that doesn't exist, we have to properly verify it works.
That's impossible in a year, and first we have to start by finding craftsmen to make it.
Since she had no connections to craftsmen, relying solely on Molly for that was too much of a burden.
And even if we luckily got it working, the personnel and facilities to make the alcohol also relied on Molly.
Since the debt if it failed would also be borne by Molly alone, it wasn't a good deal at all.
There were too many problems.
"I don't know your method, but it's small-scale, right? It would be more realistic to just gather people and do it with existing methods. So why from scratch? Is that how you're thinking about the idea fee?"
"That's part of it, and also for my future fund-raising."
"Oh, honest. If you can calculate profit and loss, that's fine. And it seems there's more?"
"Yes, it's out of consideration for your image."
At my words, Molly looked confused.
Conversely, Herkov looked like he had just realized something.
"What do you mean, Herry?"
"Ah, well, I suppose she might dislike it if she knew the production method."
Since Herkov was being evasive, Molly directed her gaze at me, seeking an answer.
"Actually, that alcohol is made through alchemy."
"...Excuse me?"
"Fraud, deception, empty boasts—the image that clings to it—it's made through alchemy."
The moment I repeated it, Molly held her head.
"Huh, wait a minute. Is that perhaps poison?"
"Ah, that direction?"
"No, well, Dinker. Explain it properly. And Molly, don't say extreme things. Even in alchemy, there are medicinal wines."
When Herkov spoke, Molly looked up at the bear's face from between her white hair.
"Medicinal wines... those smelly, bad-tasting... ones with medicinal herbs..."
Molly seemed to realize something and looked at the memo I had handed over.
"Yes, it's something that improves the procedure to increase alcohol purity through alchemy, and adjusts the smell and taste."
Molly compared the memo and me.
Then she struck her own forehead once.
"...Captain Herkov, what kind of advice did you give him?"
"Terrifyingly, this is Dinker's natural state. That's why he doesn't force himself to stay at home, and at this age knows adults can't be relied upon, so he started raising funds himself."
Somehow I was being described terribly.
"I don't particularly hate my current environment. I don't get scolded even if I treat alchemy as a hobby."
"That's because you've been left alone. And you chose it as a hobby because you realized you wouldn't be interfered with that way."
"I really do find it interesting, though?"
Herkov sent me a somewhat doubtful gaze.
Not minding it, I looked at Molly and proposed continuing the business discussion.
"So, if we can build the facility, we don't have to worry about reputation—it becomes a recipe issue. We already have better recipes, and the first buyer should be the one you control. In that case, we release the genuine article with an entirely new recipe. From there we begin branding. And we continue releasing the first thing to appeal as the original. Depending on the situation, please consider the current bestseller as just advertisement."
This was the result of my deliberations since immediate mass production was impossible.
It could be sold, so it was better to sell something superior to the improvised recipe.
From there, planning new branding and starting over from scratch seemed less likely to collapse as a plan.
The question was whether Molly's shop had the stamina to do that.
And whether she had the courage to step into new business was important.
Daily update
Next time: First Time in the Imperial Capital 5