200 Boothills were equivalent to 28.2 Silver Wolfs.
Converted into Kafka, that was approximately 13.31 of her.
A little low.
But considering this was the first time he had fleeced her, he really ought to be content.
After all—
He had to give her time to go home and ask her family for money.
Russell leisurely accepted the payment, then smiled at Herta.
"I'm all ears."
Old Cha's Imaginary Collapse was an almost perfect destructive weapon.
If he found someone durable enough to withstand explosions to intercept enemies and serve as a human guidance system, it could solve ninety-nine percent of the problems.
Perhaps Herta actually lacked the ability to modify this thing... at the very least, there was no way she could do it within three days.
But Herta had paid him, after all.
So—
For the moment, he would consider Old Cha's final product to have some enormous flaw.
Come to think of it...
Had he been making money too quickly?
To the point where his cheat no longer issued missions about cozying up to wealthy women?
Russell fell into thought.
No, actually, Herta and Ruan Mei both meet the requirements for issuing missions.
The main reason I haven't issued any is because I can't find any underclassmen or upperclassmen nearby... I suspect they're hiding from me.
Should I set a trap and see?
The Prompt Device said this.
Like this?
Russell seemed to understand everything. With a casual gesture, he created a hard drive—Old Cha's blueprints were fucking complicated, far beyond what a manual could explain.
Then, amid Herta's somewhat stunned expression, he tossed it straight to her.
"Hey, I haven't signed a confidentiality agreement or taken selective memory-erasing drugs yet. Aren't you afraid I'll leak it?"
She caught the hard drive and spoke to Russell.
"I