"She's here too? Has she also set her sights on the Softwind Slime Gel market?"
President Sherlock stared fixedly at Tina. In his view, the only force in Savant capable of competing with him now was the newly emerged Heim Industrial Park—and the Heim Merchant Association behind it.
This powerful foreign enterprise, which had entered with vast capital, had been rapidly prying at the foundations of his influence.
It might even interfere with his upcoming gel-harvesting scheme.
But…
A mocking curve tugged at the corner of Sherlock's lips.
He sneered inwardly:
"This one is the fattest sheep of them all."
A plump sheep from the lands of those northern barbarians. Sherlock was confident that with the shrewdness of Ymir Empire merchants, they could easily lure such prey into a trap and strip her clean.
However, merely letting Tina suffer a small loss in the gel market was far from the outcome Sherlock desired.
He needed to design a trap specifically for her—a trap capable of ruining her completely.
To accomplish that, careful planning was required.
Sherlock beckoned his secretary and whispered a few instructions into her ear.
Meanwhile, Tina stood quietly before the guild's notice board.
According to the task Hel had given her, she needed to find a way to sell the gel in her possession.
But selling too quickly could cause the market to collapse.
That was precisely what troubled her.
Judging by the current price trend, the gel was already nearing the peak value she and Hel had estimated.
Yet seventy percent of their inventory still remained.
Selling that seventy percent at the lofty price of 900 gold coins per barrel was clearly unrealistic. Once large quantities flooded the market, prices would inevitably fall.
It could even trigger a complete market crash.
That said, the thirty percent they had already sold had fully recovered their initial investment and netted nearly thirty million gold coins in profit—essentially scraping the wealthy merchants clean.
So even if the remaining seventy percent failed to sell, Hel would not blame Tina.
But Tina did not see it that way.
In her opinion, thirty million gold coins was merely a small sum for Savant's oil-rich nobles and magnates.
If pressed, they could certainly squeeze out far more.
Hel, however, thought differently. During the orc invasion, when lives had been on the line, she had harvested only ten million gold coins from the entire Mandrake Duchy.
So to her, earning thirty million in Savant was already impressive.
What she perhaps did not realize was that Mandrake was merely a remote frontier territory. Its economy was underdeveloped, and its nobles were practically destitute.
Savant, on the other hand, had undergone full industrialization for many years. Its nobles and wealthy merchants were fat with excess.
Not to mention Sherlock—his merchant association alone commanded more than thirty million in liquid capital.
And that did not even account for the major foreign merchant houses and nobles.
Tina, having long operated in Desert City, understood the character of Ymir's nobles and magnates all too well.
She knew far better than Hel how to draw gold from their pockets.
Just then, however, a young girl suddenly bumped into her from behind, nearly knocking her off balance.
"S-sorry!"
The clumsy girl rubbed her sore backside after falling, quickly bowing her head in apology.
Tina looked down at the girl kneeling on the ground and said calmly, "It's fine."
In a guild as chaotic as this, a stranger's sudden approach often concealed ulterior motives.
In the slums of Desert City, pickpockets and swindlers frequently used the trick of deliberately bumping into passersby.
Tina discreetly checked her pockets. Her coin pouch was still there, and she herself was unharmed. In fact, it was the clumsy girl who had taken the fall.
That made Tina suspect a potential scam.
She took two steps back, intending to distance herself from trouble as quickly as possible.
If not for the fact that she had noticed the girl wearing an Arts Academy uniform, she would not have responded at all.
However, while Tina tried to leave, the clumsy girl had no intention of letting her go.
The girl sprang up briskly, dusted herself off, and hurried after her.
"Sorry, really sorry! I wasn't paying attention and accidentally bumped into you."
She approached Tina with an easy familiarity and even adopted a pitiful expression.
Her lively demeanor faintly reminded Tina of Hiness.
Though this girl's appearance was clearly nowhere near Hiness's level.
Still, that slight resemblance—combined with the Arts Academy uniform—softened Tina's vigilance just a bit.
Under other circumstances, Tina might have chatted with her.
But not here. Not now.
Because she still carried out Hel's instructions.
As someone she recognized as her employer, Tina would never allow Hel to be disappointed in her.
So she merely offered a polite smile and said apologetically,
"It's nothing. I'm sorry, but I have matters to attend to right now. Perhaps we can talk another time."
Her meaning was obvious and her words straightforward. An ordinary person would have taken the hint and parted politely.
But the girl before her clearly operated on a different wavelength.
She seemed not to have understood at all and continued cheerfully:
"Sorry, Senior! I'm a member of the Reform Society of the Arts Academy. Please allow me to take a little of your time to share our society's ideals."
"The Reform Society? The one Leflina recently established?"
Tina had some impression of it.
Previously, Leflina had delivered speeches across Savant's various academies, promoting her ideas and gaining considerable support among freshmen.
Naturally, she went on to establish a new student society, faintly rivaling Savant's largest student organization—the Spark Society.
And two months ago, when disastrous news arrived from the three western kingdoms, many noble members of the Spark Society took leave to return home and compete for inheritance.
As a result, the Reform Society had briefly shown signs of overtaking the Spark Society's position.