Dole immediately thought of many things, his mind filling in all sorts of scenes: some noble prince or duke coming to this godforsaken place to look for an heir, while conveniently discovering an apothecary; or perhaps the young master of some great power conducting shady business here and conveniently befriending an apothecary; or waiting for some important figure to carry out secret dealings here. But what did any of that have to do with him?
He shook his head and said, "This has nothing to do with me. Whoever your master is, he is a nobody to me—hiding his head and showing his tail, too afraid to meet anyone. Who he is has nothing whatsoever to do with me. Take all these things away. I will not do business with him again."
Bang. The door slowly shut, and a storage pouch floated before the butler.
The butler's expression immediately stiffened. Damn it, he had not even finished speaking.
The storage pouch had been returned untouched. The butler himself was rather dumbfounded. There were quite a few good things inside—enough to make a level-six or level-seven Wizard kneel before him—yet the other man had refused them without a second thought. That was truly absurdly impressive.
But as an eighth-level apothecary capable of brewing Thunder Demon Potions, Dole indeed had no need to care about such trifles. As long as he could guarantee the success rate, what was this bit of money? He could save it up with just a little time.
His master's side might have acted too rashly. Perhaps it would have gone better if he had come in person. Now it was over—they had offended the other party.
The butler put away the storage pouch, rubbed his nose, and prepared to leave.
As he reached the stairway, the light