Peace Prize and Medicine Prize

Chapter 33: The Peace Prize and the Medicine Prize

"We're out of money!"

These simple words struck everyone to the core. Queen and the others practically jumped out of their seats.

"What did you say?! Out of money? Did you embezzle all the funds, you scoundrel!"

Caesar slammed his fist on the table in anger, only to find everyone staring at him, not excluding Queen and Judge. The look in their eyes conveyed a single message.

[Who else would be better at embezzling funds than you?]

Everyone knew what Caesar did in private, but since the funds had already been given to him, and he was willing to waste his own research budget, no one else bothered to interfere.

When Caesar couldn't show results, it was easier to mock him. But his current reaction felt like a cover-up.

"What kind of money-guzzling project have you started now? Vegapunk, even though you're in charge of allocating funds, you can't just use them like this!"

Judge's expression grew even more grim. His research was at a critical juncture, and if the funding were cut now, all his previous efforts would be in vain.

"Looks like we'll have to resort to robbery. I say we should have done it long ago. I heard that bum used to be a pirate? That counts as experience, right?"

Queen didn't complain. He even offered a solution. MADS wasn't a legitimate organization anyway, and by common understanding on the seas, they could be classified as pirates.

"Shut up, all of you! Punk, finish what you were saying. What's the deal with the funds?"

Oran successfully silenced them, his efficiency even surpassing Vegapunk's.

Although Queen and the others were both resentful of Oran and Vegapunk, they feared Oran more. The reason was simple: Vegapunk could at most cut their pay, but Oran would actually beat them up.

Facing Oran, they couldn't win in arguments, couldn't compete, and ultimately couldn't win in a fight. If they weren't careful, they might even be targeted by the cat-girl. Two years of this had yielded significant results.

"There's a bit of a problem with our sponsor. He seems to think his investment has been sufficient and is considering withdrawing his funds."

Good news: no one embezzled the funds.

Bad news: the sponsor was planning to withdraw.

Everyone present had a normal logical mindset and immediately realized that the problem lay at a more fundamental level.

"What's the reason?"

"'Sufficient,' that's what they said."

In Du Feld's eyes, MADS was merely a vanity project. He wasn't genuinely doing charity. It was fine if he didn't get any results after investing for over two years; the MADS name had already spread to some extent.

When the time came, Du Feld only needed to invest the remaining money in publicity to achieve the same effect. Compared to research, a bottomless pit, buying public opinion was much cheaper.

"Why now of all times? Didn't we publish some papers recently? This guy..."

Judge gritted his teeth. His experiment was at the most crucial stage among everyone here, and it couldn't be paused.

"So, he's only saying he wants to stop sponsoring, but he hasn't specified whether the ships will be recalled, when it will take effect, or if he'll send people over. Is that right?"

Oran didn't find anything surprising. He had seen plenty of such people. The Alchemical Barons of Zaun, the great families of Piltover, and even the royalty of Demacia had similar tactics when negotiating business.

Their goal wasn't to flip the table, but to demand a higher price.

"That's right, just as you said. Oran, do you have any other ideas?"

"A little. By the way, Punk, how's your GP research coming along?"

GP Flowers was Vegapunk's recent research project, a type of fast-growing flower that consumed gunpowder as nutrients. Using this substance, gunpowder could be instantly transformed into flowers.

"It's basically complete. It's in the final debugging stage."

"Then there's no problem. I'll handle it. I was just feeling a bit short on funds myself recently."

With that, Oran stood up and walked towards the door. Queen and the others thought Oran was going to do something and followed him out, only to find him simply going onto the deck for some fresh air.

"What's your plan? Didn't you say you'd handle it?"

"Don't be so impatient. We just need to wait. Du Feld invested a massive amount of money in MADS. With this sunk cost, the loss from suddenly withdrawing his funds would be enormous. It's more likely he's seeking something else. Whoever speaks first in this situation will be at a disadvantage."

"But our funds are already running low. If they're really cut off..."

Thinking of his experimental results, Judge felt a pang of panic.

When faced with a major threat, Judge always appeared rather weak. Caesar was no better. In this regard, they were far inferior to Queen.

"It's just a few days of waiting. If he's impatient, we can contact him proactively. We won't lose anything anyway."

If negotiations were possible, they would negotiate. Even if the table was flipped, Oran knew where to get money.

However, it was easier for others to come to him.

Over the next few days, Vegapunk continued his research as usual. This was a sign of trust in Oran. Since he said he would handle the matter, Vegapunk felt reassured.

Judge and Caesar worried every day, but it was useless, only adding to their troubles. Queen, meanwhile, was binge-eating in the kitchen, consuming large amounts of oshiruko daily, as if trying to get his money's worth.

After waiting for a few days, as the ship docked for resupply once again, Du Feld himself arrived on the MADS ship with a group of his subordinates.

He had a cigar dangling from his lips and wore a luxurious cape. His purple suit was adorned with a small flower – this was Du Feld himself. These clothes exuded wealth but couldn't conceal the ferocity about him.

But when he saw Oran, who was already waiting for him in the conference room, he suddenly burst into laughter.

"Dr. Siderial, this is our first meeting, isn't it? I've only heard of you from Vegapunk before. It seems you've guessed my intentions?"

"Two years of investment haven't yielded significant results. Although it was meant to be charity to polish my image, I also feel like I'm losing money. Therefore, I want to obtain something more valuable from you, don't I?"

Oran toyed with a fidget spinner, looking relaxed and completely at ease, not the slightest hint of tension on his face.

"Hahaha, you're sharper than those other guys, but you're not entirely right. I really was planning to pull my investment, I'm serious about that."

"No, I'm sitting here waiting for you because I'm certain you won't pull out. On the contrary, after today, you'll be investing even more."

Feld's expression grew complicated, even the scar on his face twitched. He then pulled up a chair and sat down, extremely curious as to why Oran could say that with such confidence, as if he had him completely figured out.

"The Ibel Prize is about to begin. Invest double, and Punk and I are confident we can win both this year's Peace Prize and Medicine Prize.

If your ambition is big enough, then after that, we can completely take over Grand Undertaker Piekro's business as well."

The spinner on Oran's fingertip continued to spin, but the room suddenly fell silent, with only Feld's slightly excited breathing still audible.

This is the chapter for noon, an exception today with an early release.