Chapter 3: The Hundred Herbs Apothecary
Elliott stopped at the boundary separating the slums from the commercial district.
It was a strange gray zone that belonged fully to neither side.
The Hundred Herbs Apothecary stood there.
It was not a grand building operated by a Great Noble House or a powerful Adept Order.
It was a medium-sized medicine shop frequented by Independent Adepts and practitioners with light purses.
According to the original Elliott's memories, the shop at least followed basic business principles and did not charge the absurd prices demanded by many other merchants.
Of course, that judgment probably came from a time when he still possessed enough mana stones to spend.
Before looking up at the signboard, Elliott examined his own appearance.
There was no mirror, but he did not need one to understand how terrible he looked.
Cheap charcoal dust covered his clothes.
His hair was greasy and tangled, as if it had not been washed in weeks.
The smell of smoke clung to his entire body.
'I would like to wash first, but I don't have the time.'
He grabbed his collar and brushed off as much dust as possible.
He tried to smooth the wrinkles with his palms, but the soot and traces of poverty had sunk too deeply into the fabric.
His eyes, however, remained sharp.
Elliott straightened his bent shoulders and raised his chin with arrogance.
In this world, confidence itself was a form of status.
The moment he showed weakness, the hyenas around him would tear him apart and chew his bones.
'I am not a debtor being hunted by collectors. I am an Alchemist here to obtain ingredients.'
Repeating the thought like self-hypnosis, Elliott roughly pushed open the sliding door of the Hundred Herbs Apothecary.
Chime. A clear bell rang, and the air inside washed over him.
It was completely different from the stale smell of his house.
The bitter fragrance of hundreds of dried herbs filled his nose.
Smoke from an incense burner used to regulate the humidity drifted gently through the room.
It was a place that reached the nose before the eyes.
The interior was orderly.
Grid-patterned drawers filled every wall without leaving a gap.
A tall counter of red wood separated the customers from the employees.
Behind that counter, a shop assistant named Shrank was organizing the account book.
Hearing someone enter, he raised his head.
"Welcome. Are you looking for..."
His voice trailed off.
Shrank's gaze moved over Elliott's soot-covered clothes and hollow eyes.
Blackened clothing.
An exhausted face.
And, most importantly, the smell of poverty.
Shrank's brows tightened immediately.
He had already decided that Elliott had no purchasing power and was only another troublesome vagrant.
Tap.
Shrank roughly put down his brush.
"Hey."
Even the way he addressed Elliott changed.
"Go beg somewhere else. This is not a charity house for feeding vagrants."
The reaction was within Elliott's expectations.
He showed no embarrassment.
Instead, he met Shrank's contemptuous gaze and raised one corner of his mouth.
Without answering, he walked directly toward the counter.
Shrank flinched and almost stepped back.
Then he scowled and shouted.
"You bastard, are you deaf? I told you to get..."
"Shut your mouth."
The cold command cut through the room.
Elliott's voice carried a strange pressure, as though it had risen from deep inside his Mana Core.
He stood crookedly before the counter and looked down at Shrank as if addressing a servant.
"You judge customers by their clothing?"
"When did the standards of the Hundred Herbs Apothecary fall this low?"
"W-what did you say?"
Shrank's face turned red, then pale.
But Elliott gave him no chance to answer.
People like this had to be overwhelmed from the beginning.
If he revealed even a small opening, they would rush in and tear at it.
Elliott pretended to reach deep into his clothing and pointed with his chin toward the medicine shelves.
"If the owner is absent, the servant should move quickly in his place. You have no awareness at all."
"You filthy madman!"
Just as Shrank was about to curse and move toward him, Elliott spoke in an indifferent tone.
"What is the current price of Blood-Staunching Powder?"
Shrank froze in place.
Those were not words that should come from a starving beggar.
There was also Elliott's arrogant posture and the sharp light in his eyes.
'Who is he?'
Shrank's thoughts became tangled.
Elliott looked exactly like a slum dweller, but the atmosphere around him resembled that of a young master from a Noble House or an eccentric expert living in seclusion.
Before Shrank's suspicion could settle into certainty, Elliott pressed into the gap.
"Blood-Staunching Powder. And bring me one bundle of Bloodwort."
It was an order.
Not a request.
Not an attempt to bargain.
It was the calm, absolute tone of someone instructing a subordinate.
After hesitating for a moment, Shrank's body moved on its own.
The instinct of a servant, carved into him through years of pleasing customers, acted before reason.
He turned and hurried toward the medicine shelves.
A short while later, he returned with a bundle of Bloodwort that carried the dry scent of grass and a packet of Blood-Staunching Powder stamped with the seal of the Hundred Herbs Apothecary.
Tap.
He placed both on the counter.
Elliott pointed at the packet with his chin.
"How much does one packet cost?"
"Ah, yes. This is an authentic product refined directly by our Hundred Herbs Apothecary. We sell it for eight mana stones per packet."
Shrank smiled submissively and placed special emphasis on the word "authentic."
Elliott's gaze moved to the Bloodwort.
"And the herb?"
"One bundle costs five mana stones. It was freshly gathered from the mountains, so.."
Instead of answering, Elliott tapped the shop's packet with his index finger.
He did not open it.
He did not taste the powder.
He only examined the faint medicinal energy leaking through the edge of the wrapping and the color staining the paper.
[Item Information]
Name: Blood-Staunching Powder
Grade: High Low-Grade to Low Mid-Grade
Condition: Failed heat control.
Details: Thirty percent of the medicinal properties were lost due to excessive heat. A small amount of scorch toxin remains from burned impurities.
"Eight mana stones for something barely reaching the middle grade. That is a vicious profit."
"…Pardon?"
"You failed to control the heat. Excessive flame destroyed thirty percent of the medicinal properties, and even the remaining seventy percent contains scorch toxin from the burned impurities."
Elliott clicked his tongue.
"At best, this is high low-grade. If you are fortunate, it barely reaches low mid-grade. Calling this trash an authentic product and selling it at that price…"
"The reputation of the Hundred Herbs Apothecary must have fallen into the dirt."
Shrank's eyes widened until they looked ready to split.
'How did he know?'
Elliott had identified the medicinal properties and the mistake made during refining without opening the packet.
He had even spoken about the dignity of the Apothecary with open contempt.
A terrible possibility flashed through Shrank's mind.
'Could he be…?'
Was he someone sent from the main branch of the Celestial Light Consortium?
The Hundred Herbs Apothecary was one of the stores operating under that enormous merchant organization.
It was not a branch directly controlled by the Consortium.
It was only an independently owned shop that paid a large monthly fee in exchange for protection beneath the Consortium's banner.
Because of that, the authority of the main branch was no different from an imperial command here.
Shrank naturally began to suspect that Elliott was an Alchemist belonging to the Celestial Light Consortium.
'He must be one of their Alchemists. No one else would behave like this.'
Note : The Celestial Light Consortium is a powerful merchant alliance that oversees numerous shops and affiliated businesses. Its influence stretches across the region, and even small stores operating beneath its banner benefit from its protection, trade network, and reputation.