Robber Logic

Central London, in a café beneath an apartment building on Knight Street.

"Ding-a-ling."

At the crisp chime of the doorbell, David Stick immediately looked up and saw the man he had been longing to meet walk into the shop.

Murphy wore a slightly formal overcoat, decent enough for London's cooling weather, though the style seemed a little out of date.

After the two exchanged names and sat down, Murphy took a small bottle from his pocket and placed it on the table.

"This is the medicine you saw yesterday. It's called White... ahem, just call it White Medicine. You saw its effects yesterday too. What do you think?"

"Astonishing! Incredible! It's practically magic!"

David clearly had little experience with negotiations.

In fact, that was already him showing restraint.

Never mind seeing one—he had never even imagined a treatment with such exaggerated effects.

It could stop bleeding and heal a wound in just a few seconds. He could hardly imagine how it was done.

Unless... it was a scam.

"If possible, I'd like to..."

Murphy pushed the small bottle over. "Please."

David took several deep breaths, then actually pulled a razor blade from his pocket and drew a cut across his arm.

Then, hissing in pain, he poured on the Essence of Dittany.

In just a few seconds, the wound vanished.

When he looked again, his arm was no longer bleeding, and after he wiped away the beads of blood from before, he found that the wound had already healed.

Even though he had known it might turn out like this.

After experiencing it himself, David still widened his eyes.

Incredible!

It was nothing short of a miracle!

Magic!

At the healed spot, aside from a faint red mark, it was almost impossible to tell he had been injured. If the bloodstains had not still been there, he would have thought the pain just now had been his imagination.

"How was this done? Human cells can't divide that fast..."

After all, his father had forced him to finish an undergraduate degree in pharmacy, so he still knew basic physiological common sense.

Murphy smiled and did not answer.

"Did you develop this medicine yourself? Is there a patent? Have you published a paper? Is it a biochemical preparation, or an herbal formula?"

Murphy shook his head. "I developed this medicine myself, but there's no way I'll give you the formula. Since you've seen its effects, you should naturally understand its value. I won't sell the formula to anyone. I came here to discuss cooperation with you."

Only then did David calm down.

True. If he had developed a medicine like this himself, he would absolutely never sell it either. This was a great invention one could live off for a lifetime, even for several lifetimes.

"How would you like to cooperate?"

"Simple. We jointly develop this medicine. You provide the money, I provide the technology. Within a year, I return double your investment."

David was stunned. "A loan? That won't do! I want equity!"

With a medicine this powerful, seeking only a onefold return was far too stupid!

Murphy was not surprised. "How much can you invest?"

"Ten million!" David said immediately, then hesitated. "At least five million!"

Finally, he thought it over again. "At minimum, two million should be no problem."

He was only a rich second generation. As for exactly how much his wealthy old man would be willing to invest, he really had no confidence.

Ten million was going all in, five million was a high-stakes gamble, but two million really was just a standard investment scale. In his mind, for a project this explosive, persuading his old man to put in two million to test the waters definitely would not be a big problem.

"Two million. Then how much equity do you want?"

"Sixty percent!" David blurted out.

"Heh." Murphy only laughed.

"Half?"

Murphy shook his head.

"Thirty percent! I can't go any lower!"

Murphy stood up. "Ten million pounds, and I'll give you ten percent. That's the ceiling. If you can only come up with two million, then it's two percent." Murphy capped the bottle of Essence of Dittany and handed it to David. "Take those words, and this, back to your father."

Since the other party did not have decision-making power, stating his own terms was enough. He had no need to keep wasting time here.

"You have one day to decide. If you can accept it, call this number."

With that, Murphy placed a card with a phone number written on it on the table and left the café.

That night, in his rented Muggle hotel room, he received a call from Jim Stick.

"I can give you five million pounds, but I want at least fifteen percent of the shares."

"Sorry, impossible." Murphy hung up at once.

A little while later, the phone rang again. "Five million, ten percent. That's my bottom line."

Murphy laughed. "Sorry, but your bottom line means nothing to me."

There were plenty of pharmaceutical companies in Britain. If he did not want to play, there were plenty of people who did.

A while later, a man in a suit and leather shoes knocked on Murphy's hotel room door and handed him a mobile phone.

Murphy, who had spent all this time living in the wizarding world, had almost forgotten that mobile phones existed.

Seeing this retro-looking brick of a mobile phone now, he could not help but stare blankly for a moment.

It was 1987.

The Cityman produced by Nokia had just gone on the market, and it could basically be considered the world's first truly portable mobile phone.

The thing was absurdly expensive. Anyone who could afford one was truly rich.

Murphy took the phone and heard the voice on the other end say, "Give me eight percent, and I can hand you a pharmaceutical factory outright. You'll be able to produce your medicine immediately."

Murphy was tempted. "Deal."

"Very good. My car is waiting outside. Come to my villa. We have many details to discuss."

A Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit was parked right outside the hotel, and the driver opened the door for him.

Murphy did not dawdle either. This matter could not be explained clearly in just a few words, and he really did need to meet the other party.

Half an hour later, the Rolls-Royce stopped inside an empty factory building.

Murphy got out. In the middle of the empty factory floor stood a chair and a small wooden table. A middle-aged blond man with slicked-back hair sat in the chair, smoking a pipe, with a bodyguard in a black suit and sunglasses standing on either side of him.

Murphy frowned. "This doesn't look like a villa."

Jim Stick grinned. "It really isn't."

He casually pointed with the right hand holding the pipe. "This is the factory I'm giving you. But it's already gone bankrupt."

"What do you mean?"

Jim Stick took out a check and placed it on the table.

"This is a check for two million pounds. Enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Take it and give me the formula. Or..."

As he spoke, two more burly men walked in through the entrance and shut the doors.

Murphy was somewhat speechless. "Are you threatening me?"

Jim blew out a large smoke ring. "I'm a legitimate businessman. Normally, I don't do things like this. So I hope you'll take the check."

As Jim spoke, he took another hard drag, letting the thick, biting smoke roll through his lungs a few times before exhaling a long breath.

"Fucking exhilarating!" Jim stood up and began speaking at length. "People always have one or two desires they can't even control themselves, right? Like tobacco, or pounds. Money, to me, is a stimulant. It always gets me excited."

"So, I'm being forced into this too. I can't overcome my own desire."

Murphy watched Jim carry on with his self-absorbed speech and still found it a little ridiculous. "What if I don't agree?"

"Don't be ungrateful, kid. I don't want to make this too ugly."

"I looked into you. You're nothing. You don't even have household registration. Maybe you're just some thief who smuggled himself in from the Third World."

"Guess what will happen if I kill you here?"

Jim spread his hands. "The answer is, nothing!"

"No one knows who you are, and no one will care why you died here. Those clever people at New Scotland Yard won't go looking for trouble for themselves. You'll just become another unsolved case buried in their archives."

"Maybe you think it's unfair that I robbed you, but this is a world where the strong prey on the weak, isn't it? The weak are born to be plundered by the strong. Try to look on the bright side, kid. At least I paid."

Murphy looked speechlessly at Jim as he paced back and forth in front of him, wearing an expression that said Murphy was still coming out ahead.

"The strong prey on the weak... All right..."

As for this kind of bandit logic, Murphy felt...

It made way too much fucking sense.

So he drew his wand.