I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 442: Make the Rich wait

The duchess stared at her reflection with an expression that cycled through disbelief, wonder, and finally pure joy.

Her hair, which had been thin, gray, and lifeless when she’d sat down, now gleamed with the lustrous chestnut brown of her youth. Each strand caught the crystal light like spun silk, and the overall effect was nothing short of miraculous.

”I haven’t looked like this since before my first child was born,” the duchess said, her voice thick with emotion. ”That was thirty-five years ago.”

The silence that followed was profound. Then, like a dam breaking, questions exploded from every direction:

”How much?”

”Can it work on my hair?”

”I need twelve bottles immediately!”

”What about exclusivity contracts?”

Genevieve stepped forward with the smooth grace of someone who’d been expecting exactly this reaction. ”Ladies and gentlemen, please. All questions will be answered in due course. Celeste, if you would inform Her Grace of the pricing?”

Celeste’s smile was pure triumph as she gestured toward the display cases. ”Five gold pieces per bottle of shampoo, Your Grace. Five gold per bottle of conditioner for optimal results. Each bottle contains sufficient product for approximately one month of regular use with proper application.”

”Ten gold for both?” The duchess didn’t even blink at the price. ”I’ll take twenty-four bottles of each. Forty-eight bottles total.”

The implications hit the crowd immediately. If she and others bought bottles like this in bulk, who knows when they would run out? Two hundred forty gold pieces in a single transaction for hair care products.

But Genevieve noticed something crucial. Despite the obvious shock at the price, nobody was leaving. Instead, they pressed closer, their eyes fixed on the duchess’s transformed appearance with apparent hunger.

”I’ll take thirty bottles!” A merchant’s wife called out, her voice competing with dozens of others.

”Fifty bottles for House Weimar!”

”My husband will pay any price. I need this formula!”

The crowd’s desperation reached new heights as nobles who were accustomed to having their desires fulfilled immediately found themselves in direct competition for access to limited resources.

Octavia moved through the crowd with diplomatic precision, her notebook already filled with orders. ”Please, honored guests, form an orderly queue. All purchases will be recorded and fulfilled. Kaiser Holdings has sufficient inventory to meet the current demand.”

”What about the mana potions?” A voice called from the back of the crowd, and attention immediately shifted to the other display cases, where crystalline vials of glowing blue liquid were arranged with reverent care.

Genevieve’s smile widened fractionally. ”Ah, yes, our revolutionary mana restoration formula. Perhaps Octavia could provide a brief explanation of the product’s capabilities?”

Octavia stepped forward, her presence commanding attention through sheer force of competence. ”Kaiser Holdings has developed a high-grade mana potion that provides ten times the restoration capacity of traditional formulas. Where standard potions might restore ten percent of a mage’s total mana capacity, ours restores one hundred percent in the same timeframe.”

The crowd’s murmuring grew louder as the implications sank in.

”Impossible,” a voice declared. A mage, judging by his elaborate robes and the staff he carried. ”Mana restoration has theoretical limits. You can’t simply multiply effectiveness tenfold through better ingredients.”

”And yet,” Genevieve interjected smoothly, ”that is precisely what we’ve accomplished. We’re offering samples to any certified mage who wishes to verify our claims. Completely free of charge, with no obligation to purchase.”

The mage’s expression shifted from skepticism to interest. Free samples meant they were confident enough in their product to allow independent verification. That kind of confidence usually indicates either genuine innovation or spectacular fraud.

”I’ll test it,” the mage declared, stepping forward.

Octavia produced one of the sample vials, smaller than the full-size products they’d be selling, but sufficient for verification purposes.

”Please, use your mana in whatever manner you prefer until you’ve depleted your reserves, then consume the potion and verify the restoration rate.”

The mage nodded, raised his staff, and began casting. Flames erupted from the staff’s tip in controlled bursts, each one clearly draining his mana reserves based on how his movements became more labored with each casting.

Finally, he stopped, breathing heavily. ”Reserves are approximately fifteen percent. Any lower and I risk mana exhaustion headaches.”

He uncorked the sample vial and drank the contents in one smooth motion.

The crowd watched with rapt attention as the mage’s expression cycled through surprise, shock, and finally amazed disbelief. ”By all the gods... full restoration. Instantaneously, I can feel my reserves at maximum capacity.”

Excited whispers erupted throughout the gathered nobles as the verification sank in. This wasn’t marketing hyperbole.

This was a genuine revolutionary advancement in alchemical science.

”The price?” someone called out.

”Two gold pieces per high-grade mana potion,” Genevieve announced, her voice cutting through the crowd’s murmuring. ”Significantly lower than the ten gold pieces our competitors charge for their inferior products.”

The mathematical implications were staggering. Ten times the effectiveness for one-fifth the cost. Any mage with basic arithmetic skills could see the value proposition.

”I’ll take one thousand bottles!” A noble in the elaborate robes of a ducal house declared.

”Two thousand for House Blackhorn!”

”My entire annual budget... Convert it all to mana potions!”

The orders came in waves, each more extravagant than the last, as nobles recognized they were witnessing the birth of a commercial empire and sought to secure their position as early adopters.

Annabelle worked frantically in the inventory room, her organizational skills pushed to their limits as she coordinated the fulfillment of increasingly massive orders. Seraphina assisted her while also managing the growing list of nobles who wanted to discuss bulk-purchasing arrangements or regional exclusivity.

”Lady Genevieve,” a distinguished gentleman in Draconian colors, approached with the careful respect of someone addressing an equal. ”Duke Tharsis of the Eastern Reaches. I want to discuss securing exclusive distribution rights for Draconia.”

Genevieve’s smile was polite but noncommittal. ”Your Grace, such arrangements require extensive negotiation. Perhaps we could schedule a private consultation this afternoon?”

”Of course,” the duke agreed immediately. ”Name the time and location. My family is prepared to make very generous offers for the privilege of exclusive access.”

Similar requests came from representatives of Cordelia, Sanctorium, and various independent city-states. Everyone wanted to be the sole distributor for their region, to monopolize access to products that were clearly going to reshape the luxury goods market.

But Genevieve was careful not to commit to anything immediately. Exclusivity was valuable precisely because it was rare, and she had no intention of diluting that value through hasty agreements.

By midday, the initial frenzy had settled into a more controlled chaos.

The queue outside still stretched around the block, but S and Finn had established a rhythm that kept the flow of customers manageable.

Groups of twenty entered, made their purchases or scheduled consultations, and departed with expressions that ranged from satisfied to euphoric.

The sales figures were climbing at a rate that would have seemed impossible just hours before.

Anabelle emerged from the inventory room, her usually pristine appearance slightly disheveled from hours of coordinating fulfillment.

She approached her mother with a ledger that looked like it had been written in frantic shorthand.

”Mother,” Annabelle articulated softly, her voice laced with enthusiasm.