The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 11: It’s Not Over Yet (3)
The words of Lord Vins continued in the Archbishop’s ear, who was clueless about what was going on.
[Yes! I’m truly impressed! When did you start preparing a cure for the Cadena Flu?]
"Hold on. Did you just say a cure for the Cadena Flu?"
[Yes, that's correct. The treatment you sent us, Archbishop. I heard you secretly prepared it with the White Tower... or did I receive incorrect information?]
The Archbishop quickly pieced together the situation and licked his lips before asking.
“How was it? Did it seem effective?”
[Absolutely. Patients who received the injection recovered miraculously within a few hours. Isn’t this truly a blessing from the goddess? El Sia!]
“And were there any side effects?”
[Not so far. But, Archbishop... I don’t mean to rush you, but could you give us a hint as to when we might receive the second shipment?]
Lord Vins spoke cautiously, displaying extreme deference.
[I asked the elder at the White Tower, but he said it was up to you to decide and left.]
“The second shipment will be sent as soon as it’s ready. It shouldn’t take long.”
[Thank you, truly! El Sia!]
When the call ended, the Archbishop’s gaze landed directly on Oscar.
“Was that your work?”
“Yes, it seems it arrived safely.”
“This is a blatant violation of imperial law!”
Sensing the situation, Moira erupted in fury.
“Archbishop, you must consider this carefully. Imperial drug regulations prohibit the use of unapproved drugs, and violators face a minimum prison sentence of ten years, with the death penalty possible, depending on the outcome. This act directly contravenes the Imperial Food Safety Act, Article 2, Clause 8. It’s a serious crime!”
“Hm.”
The Archbishop, who had been somewhat concerned about this, turned away slightly.
“Did you proceed without knowing this?”
“No, I was aware.”
“See? The White Tower deliberately committed an illegal act for unjust profit. Such a case deserves aggravated punishment...”
“There will be no punishment.”
Oscar cut her off firmly, meeting the three pairs of eyes on him with a shrug.
“You all must be a bit out of touch with the law since you're only used to making potions.”
“Ridiculous! The Blue Tower's potion department is thoroughly versed in all legal interpretations concerning food safety...”
“Oh, I'm not talking about the food safety laws. I’m talking about wartime laws.”
“Wartime laws? What does wartime law have to do with treatment?”
Oscar chuckled softly.
There was no way this vast empire was always peaceful.
What looks serene now was built upon countless wars and layers of bloodshed.
Hence, the empire’s laws on warfare had grown extensive.
“Peace has reigned for the last twenty years, so they likely haven’t been reviewed in a while.”
Oscar swallowed an unknown bitterness and spoke in a calm voice.
“Twenty-two years ago, in the war with the demon tribes, the weapon that took the most imperial lives was not their swords or magic, but disease. The empire's talented mages quickly developed a cure and a vaccine, but the lengthy approval time for food and drug regulations posed a huge problem. It was clear that these outdated laws couldn’t keep up with the urgency of war. In response, the Emperor added this provision to Article 42, Clause 8 of the wartime laws: during wartime, medicines for treating the injured are classified as special medical supplies, exempt from the Imperial Food Safety Act.”
“We’re not at war now, so what’s your point...?”
“There are three cases in which the Calderan Empire officially acknowledges a wartime situation.”
First: when war breaks out with another race or nation.
Second: when rebel forces rise within the empire.
“And the third.”
Oscar’s voice turned as cold as ice.
“When a B-grade or higher disaster threatens the safety of imperial citizens.”
A deep, heavy silence fell over the room.
He looked at Moira, whose face had turned pale as she grasped what he was saying.
“Although it’s on the lowest level, the Cadena Flu is still classified as a B-grade natural disaster. Therefore, there’s no need to obtain approval from the Imperial Food and Drug Administration to treat it. Judging from your reaction, I assume you didn’t know.”
“That, that’s...”
Moira, flustered and barely able to hold herself together, was quickly assisted by Neil Brion.
“Archbishop, that changes nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means that if the White Tower can do it, so can we. We’ll send all of our treatments to Vins immediately...”
“It seems you still don’t understand the situation.”
“Pardon?”
The Archbishop clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“The moment the White Tower’s cure arrived in Vins, this contest was over.”
There are only seven Archbishops on the continent, figures of tremendous religious and political authority.
Moreover, Baldwin, who’s eyeing the rank of cardinal, would not want even a trace of a blemish on his record.
“Lord Vins believes I collaborated with the White Tower to prepare the cure. How would it look if an Archbishop went back on his word?”
“...We’ll lower the price further.”
The Archbishop’s eyes flickered with annoyance at the suggestion.
“Are you implying that you can buy my honor with mere money?”
“No, I didn’t mean that at all...”
“I’m highly offended. Leave now; I don’t want to hear more.”
Faced with a clear dismissal, the two had no choice but to depart.
As Moira passed by Oscar, she muttered lowly.
“I’ll repay this debt one day.”
“...Sigh.”
Do these people get scripts from the academy or something?
How could it still sound the same after twenty years?
“By the way, the patent for the Cadena Flu cure and vaccine has already been registered with the royal court.”
“What?”
Moira’s eyes widened in shock, realizing this had been her fallback plan.
“Therefore, if you wish to use your own treatment, you’ll need to pay us the patent fee or destroy it all. The choice is yours.”
“Ugh!”
“Oh, though I believe Ms. Moira may have other pressing matters to attend to first.”
The Blue Tower isn’t lenient toward anyone who incurs astronomical losses on them.
She would likely end up assigned to a lesser post or expelled from the tower.
Moira clenched her fists and stormed out.
Moments later, as Neil Brion passed by, Oscar commented casually.
“That’s a nice cologne.”
The minty freshness was unmistakable, memorable, like Gordon's had been.
Oscar glanced at him slyly.
“NewTech, wasn’t it? Let’s meet again.”
“...I hope under better circumstances.”
“I hope so, too. For now.”
Once they left, Archbishop Baldwin burst into hearty laughter.
“Haha! Now we can finally get down to discussing the contract terms. Come, take a seat.”
As soon as he sat, the questions began.
“Now then, name your price for supplying the cure to Vins’s domain.”
“Hmm.”
“For reference, the Blue Tower and NewTech offered 2 million bels.”
The only reason he volunteered this information was to prevent them from naming an unreasonably high price.
“If those two quoted two million...”
Oscar extended two fingers in thought, then grinned as he spread out the rest.
“Five million bels should do.”
“...Ha.”
The bold proposition drew a scoff from the Archbishop.
He had thought even two million was high for treating the five thousand residents of Vins.
“To ask for more than double that amount...”
It was clear Oscar was exploiting the Archbishop's desperate situation.
As irritation began to rise, Oscar spoke up.
“You might think I’m taking advantage of you.”
“Are you saying that’s not the case?”
“Yes. I have three reasons for quoting five million bels.”
“Three reasons?”
The Archbishop’s curiosity was piqued, and he nodded slightly.
“Let’s hear them.”
“First, the quality of our cure. As you’ve already heard from Lord Vins, there’s no issue with the effectiveness of our treatment. Comparing it to their unproven cures would be an insult, in my opinion.”
“Hmm. I acknowledge that. And what is the second reason?”
“Time.”
The Archbishop nodded in agreement.
“That, too, I acknowledge. You’re saving me a whole four months.”
“In my personal opinion, it’s impossible for them to complete a remedy in just four months.”
“You’re quite confident. So, we have two reasons now.”
Excellent quality and fast delivery time—both valid reasons for raising the price.
“Now, what’s the third reason?”
“Advertising costs.”
“...Advertising costs?”
Oscar smirked at the Archbishop, who blinked in confusion.
“When we swiftly contain the Cadena flu, people will be curious. They’ll ask, ‘How did the White Tower manage to produce a remedy so quickly?’ And then I’ll answer that it’s all thanks to Archbishop Baldwin. That he, as if divinely inspired, instructed us to prepare the remedy.”
Baldwin the Archbishop’s eyes sparkled as he grasped the meaning of Oscar’s words.
A bishop receiving a divine revelation?
It was an opportunity too tempting to resist for someone eyeing the position of cardinal.
A chance to make his name known across the entire continent without lifting a finger.
“Haha, unfortunately, I haven’t received such a revelation. But rumors tend to get exaggerated, don’t they?”
“Haha, that’s how rumors work, isn’t it?”
The Archbishop, clearly pleased with this scenario, smiled widely before asking mischievously,
“Are you really in your twenties? Talking to you feels like talking to a wily old fox of forty.”
Oscar’s face grew serious.
“Well, forty is a bit much... I can humbly admit to being thirty, though.”
“Cough, just a joke.”
What a funny fellow.
Why admit to thirty if it’s not true?
“Oscar Crucian... Wait, Oscar Crucian?”
The Archbishop clapped his hand on his knee as recognition dawned.
That name sounded familiar—it was the name of a once-renowned genius who had stirred the continent.
But for the past few years, he had only been infamous for squandering the White Tower’s funds.
‘Has he been restoring lost potion recipes all this time? If that’s true, the potion market could be transformed.’
The Archbishop naturally assumed Oscar had spent these past years focusing on potion research.
After all, the remedy for the Cadena flu couldn’t have been created overnight.
“But tell me, why not count what you’re taking from me?”
“...What do you mean?”
Oscar feigned innocence, but the Archbishop, fully aware, smirked knowingly.
“If the White Tower makes a fortune from this amazing remedy, it’ll attract a horde of vultures. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you were positioning me and the Church as shields against them?”
“...Well, depending on how you look at it, I suppose one could see it that way.”
What a cunning old man.
Oscar had thought he wouldn’t notice... but seeing his expression, the Archbishop burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahaha! It’s just another joke! You’re so mature I wanted to tease you a bit.”
“Your taste in humor is quite peculiar.”
“I hear that often.”
Chuckling, the Archbishop pulled a blank check from his robe and wrote a number on it.
“Here, take it.”
“Thank you... Huh?”
Oscar’s eyes widened at the number on the check.
“Archbishop, I think you miscalculated.”
“It’s you who miscalculated.”
The Archbishop shook his head firmly.
“You’re offering to advertise solely for my benefit across the continent. Do you think my dignity is so cheap that 5 million Bels would suffice?”
“Archbishop...”
Grateful, Oscar tightly gripped the check that had 10 million Bels written on it.
“I’ll show my gratitude by delivering the second batch to Vins in a week.”
“Haha, that would be much appreciated.”
He clasped the Archbishop’s hand firmly.
Back at the White Tower, Oscar returned like a triumphant general to see the deputy master, already joined by Maxim and Fidelina, who had rushed over upon hearing the news.
Holding the blank check without a word, Oscar handed it over, and Fidelina shrieked upon reading the amount.
“What? Is this... 1000? 10,000? 100,000? 1 million? 10 million Bels?”
With her mood immediately brightened, she messed up Oscar’s hair.
“Oh, my boy! I knew you could do it!”
“...Your audacity is almost astonishing.”
Maxim, shaking his head, caught Oscar’s awkward look and spoke up.
“Unlike her, I’ve believed in you from the start. You know that, right?”
Yeah, please help me stop her.
Oscar brushed off Fidelina’s hand, awkwardly smiling as he fixed his hair.
“Anyway, the deal with Archbishop Baldwin went through successfully, so we need to prepare the second batch and send it to Vins in a week. After that, we’ll start selling in nearby territories, too.”
The deputy master stared at the check in silence.
This wasn’t just any number—visions of those he couldn’t feed, clothe, or support flashed through his mind.
With misty eyes, he managed to speak.
“To be honest, I’m surprised. I didn’t expect Oscar to pull it off this well.”
“It’s all thanks to your faith in me, deputy master.”
A loud stamp of approval.
The deputy master’s gaze was filled with affection.
“The disciplinary action called for repaying three times the embezzled 25,000 Bels, yet he’s brought back 400 times that amount. Considering future sales to other territories, we could aim for hundreds or even thousands of times more.”
He glanced at Fidelina.
“I’m withdrawing the disciplinary action against Oscar. Any objections?”
“None at all.”
Having heard the answer he wanted, the deputy master asked again.
“Oscar, do you need any additional support? A week is a pretty tight deadline.”
“Yes, I’ll need more mages. Just Fran and I won’t be able to meet the deadline.”
“What’s the recruitment criteria?”
“Preferably all skilled in dual casting, but realistically, as many level-four mages as we can find.”
Unlike with Fran, they didn’t have time to teach everyone dual casting this time.
With a week’s deadline, they needed to prepare the promised batch.
“All right, I’ll post a recruitment notice in the tower. Fidelina?”
“Yes, deputy master?”
“Announce that we’re looking for level-four or higher mages for potion manufacturing, and that those who join will get daily wages and meat at every meal.”
Applicants flocked in droves.

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