The Song of Flowers - Chapter 6: The Family’s Chamber (3)

“I have no reason to lie about something that would be easily proven.”

Berto’s mind raced.

The continent had known peace for a long time. Sure, there were occasional skirmishes and revolts, and diplomatic tensions were constant. But large-scale wars between nations hadn’t occurred in quite some time.

In this peaceful era, most nobles spent their days attending endless social gatherings, forging connections through dull, repetitive interactions. The monotony of their lives was almost unbearable.

They craved excitement. That was why the secret slave auctions had gained such widespread popularity, even among the most highborn of society.

‘Pleasure without consequences…’ Berto mused.

If what Malcolm said was true, this could be an incredibly profitable business. Most nobles, even if they were bored out of their minds, stayed away from drugs. They valued their bodies too much to risk anything harmful.

“It’s hard to make a decision based solely on your word,” Berto said cautiously.

“You can test the sample I’ve provided. It will be enough to convince you.”

Berto’s eyes gleamed with greed as he looked at the purple powder scattered across the table. The devilish substance now seemed to glimmer like gold.

“If you’re not interested, then let’s pretend this meeting never happened. The Grant Trading Company never forces a deal against a client’s will.”

Berto’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not the only one you’ve offered this to, am I?”

Malcolm remained silent, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Has anyone else agreed to the deal?”

“Your Highness, clients’ information is confidential,” Malcolm replied smoothly.

“Let me rephrase. How far down the list am I? Surely you can answer that,” Berto pressed.

“You are the first in the northern continent,” Malcolm said, his tone unruffled.

“Give me some time. While I test this product, don’t offer it to anyone else,” Berto demanded.

“Are you proposing an exclusive deal?” Malcolm asked with a hint of amusement.

“This is a dangerous item, and you’ll want to deal with someone reliable. It’s not something just anyone can handle. I can guarantee complete control.”

For a brief moment, a cold smirk flickered in Malcolm’s eyes, but it was so fleeting that Berto didn’t notice.

“Of course, Your Highness would be a trustworthy client. But exclusivity presents a certain risk for merchants.”

“I promise you a deal where you won’t suffer any losses.”

The balance of power in the conversation had shifted. Malcolm had subtly taken the upper hand, and Berto was now following his lead, though the shift was so skillfully handled that only a keen observer would have noticed.

“It’s too early to discuss deals. Examine the product, and once you’re certain, contact me,” Malcolm suggested.

“We already have a foundation of trust,” Berto insisted.

Relenting, Malcolm sighed theatrically. “It’s hard to refuse Your Highness. Very well, I promise to wait for your response before seeking other clients.”

Berto, satisfied with the concession, didn’t realize that everything had unfolded exactly as Malcolm had planned. Malcolm had no intention of selling the product to many people—he had only ever planned on a select few.

As Malcolm prepared to leave, he said, “The fortune teller will be your contact.”

“Don’t forget your promise to wait,” Berto reminded him.

Once Malcolm had left, Berto immediately called for his attendant and instructed him to carefully collect every grain of powder from the table back into the pouch. He stayed close by, watching the entire process.

‘If I secure exclusive rights, I’ll never have to worry about a lack of funds again,’ Berto thought, greed gleaming in his eyes. He doubted Malcolm would lie; the head of the Grant Trading Company had nothing to gain from deceit.

‘There may even be another use for this product.’

Berto prided himself on his sharp mind and long-term thinking. He began to imagine other possibilities for the drug beyond just pleasure. A substance like this, with no side effects, could have multiple applications.

He felt an eagerness rising within him. He was itching to test the product’s effects as soon as possible.

‘How much should I use? Should I ingest it directly? Would it dissolve in water? The nobility will prefer a more refined method—maybe using a water pipe would work.’

As Berto busied himself with thoughts of how to present the product, Malcolm’s carriage sped through the dark streets, leaving the palace behind.

“Complete control?” Malcolm muttered, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. He scoffed at the young prince’s naïveté.

‘How laughable.’

Berto, for all his self-importance, was nothing more than a flower in a vase. He had likely been pampered and sheltered his entire life, with no real understanding of suffering or despair. At best, his greatest challenge had been his rivalry with his half-brother.

Of course, Berto wasn’t a fool—Malcolm wouldn’t have chosen him as a business partner otherwise. The prince was clever enough to hold his own against the crown prince, who had the backing of a powerful maternal family.

But to Malcolm, all nobles were the same. Berto was simply less detestable than the others, a slight improvement over the vermin-like aristocrats who littered the continent.

‘Let him try. His arrogance will be his undoing.’

Malcolm had no illusions about the product he was peddling. He wasn’t handing over Euphoris because he could control it. In fact, it was the opposite—he knew the substance was beyond his control.

Objects had a will of their own. It was something many would laugh at, but Malcolm had seen enough in his decades in the trade to know better. Despite meticulous planning, some items took on a life of their own, veering off in unpredictable directions.

He had no faith in Berto’s ability to handle it. The prince’s youthful confidence was amusing, nothing more.

‘As long as it serves its purpose for a while, it’s all that matters to me.’

Malcolm had no intention of sabotaging Berto with Euphoris. He had simply recognized the product’s potential and chosen to use it in the most profitable way.

He had carefully selected around ten individuals across the continent, dividing them by region. These ten would be the only ones to whom he would sell Euphoris directly. From there, they would naturally become distributors, spreading the substance through their own networks.

He had chosen his candidates carefully. They had to be smart, greedy, and possess just enough conscience to avoid reckless behavior. They also needed the status and resources to protect their interests.

Even with careful planning, Malcolm knew these individuals would only manage Euphoris for about five to ten years before something went wrong.

Berto had been the last of the ten. The bait had been cast. All Malcolm needed to do now was wait for the fish to bite.

‘Euphoris will have a far greater impact than any slave auction ever did.’

Malcolm reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch, from which he extracted a stone about the size of a finger joint.

The stone was almond-shaped, with pointed ends, and appeared to be made of polished crystal.

‘Its purpose has shifted entirely from what I originally intended, but this is even better.’

The stone in his hand was a magic stone, or “Tium.” Tium was essential for powering magical artifacts and was exclusively produced in Haran, the only source on the continent.

However, the Tium Malcolm held hadn’t come from Haran.

When the Master began producing Tium, Malcolm had been hopeful. The demand for Tium on the continent was astronomical, with some nations even using it as currency.

But the Tium produced by the Master had an unexpected flaw—it was purple, unlike the blue Tium sold in the market.

This difference in color meant Malcolm couldn’t sell it through traditional channels without being discovered. If word got out that he could produce Tium, nations would hunt him down for the formula.

He had spent a long time trying to figure out how to use the purple Tium, unwilling to let such a valuable resource go to waste.

That’s when he discovered its potential as Euphoris. When finely ground, purple Tium produced effects similar to drugs. No such effects had ever been observed in the blue Tium sold in the market.

Euphoris wasn’t just any drug. Depending on the dosage and method of intake, it could produce various effects. It could be used as a sleep aid, induce vivid dreams, numb pain, or even enhance pleasure during intimate moments.

Euphoris. The name wasn’t undeserved.

It offered pleasure without consequence. No side effects. Its value was immeasurable.

‘Let them enjoy it while they can.’

Nobles would fall into Euphoris without a second thought, believing they were safe. But by the time they realized something was wrong, it would be too late.

Malcolm hadn’t lied—there were no side effects. Euphoris didn’t cause withdrawal symptoms, no matter how long someone used it.

But could any human truly give up the kind of pleasure it offered? That was the real trap. It wasn’t the drug itself that was addictive, but the pleasure it provided. Once someone experienced it, they would never want to stop.

Only Malcolm had the means to supply Euphoris. Soon, he would have these nobles in the palm of his hand.

‘The world will bow before me.’

Malcolm’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of ambition and seething hatred for the world.

***

Cabal opened his eyes in the darkness.

He savored the lingering sensation, different from helplessness—more like a warm, nostalgic dream.

—A dream, huh? How foolish.

Trivial human emotions could not sway him. Moreover, he hadn’t been asleep. He didn’t experience any of the physical sensations that humans did. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t feel fatigue or pain.

He was simply dealing with the side effects of his incomplete power. His unstable strength would sometimes act on its own, dragging him into the depths of darkness.

There were times when hours passed without his awareness. Occasionally, those lapses stretched into months.

His world was darkness, but he could always sense the passage of time. This time, it seemed he had been submerged for quite a while. The presence of the humans he controlled from afar, imbued with a portion of his power, felt faint and distant.

—Come.

He called for his servant. It would take a while for the slow human to arrive in response. If there had been even one capable dark sorcerer, he wouldn’t have to rely on sluggish humans.

If only his power were complete. No, if only he could fully control it.

The unstable nature of his power, prone to sudden bursts, limited his actions. Since he couldn’t move freely, he needed servants.

Still, there was a silver lining: when he wandered the abyss and returned, his energy would stabilize.

And when his power became calm, like a serene lake, an unanswerable question would torment him.

—Who am I? Am I the darkness, or has the darkness consumed me?

The conclusion was always the same: he had to regain his power. It was only because he was incomplete that these doubts arose.

There was something solid in his left hand. Cabal opened his clenched fist. A red glow emerged from beneath his hood, and the small stone in his palm floated into the air.

—A mana stone.

It was something he had recently created.

Malcolm had said mana stones were valuable treasures. Cabal had no interest in gold, but they were useful for controlling humans.

The continent was vast, and Cabal, in his incomplete state, couldn’t scour it alone. There were far too many humans, like ants crawling all over.

—An amusing thing. To think they could craft such a thing.

The stone concentrated magical energy inside a small crystal. It wasn’t bad, considering it was human-made. Though, of course, compared to the power of darkness, it was still crude magic.

Days passed. In the dark room without windows, there was no sense of day or night.

Cabal continued to sit at the table, staring at the mana stone that floated and spun in the air.

“Tiom… For you to be able to craft a mana stone, Master, you are truly omnipotent.”

Cabal had known how to make the mana stone the moment he saw it. The method came to him naturally. When he mentioned that he could craft it, Malcolm had grovelled at his feet, singing praises of his master’s greatness. There was no need to feel pride from the adulation of such a lowly being.

But as he sat staring at the mana stone, a question suddenly struck him.

—How do I know how to make this?

He knew because he had made it himself. The mana stone had no connection to the power of darkness. It was created by mixing magical ingredients and inscribing spells into the crystal—a product of human ingenuity.

Some dark magic methods had been used in its creation. But dark magic was entirely different from the power of darkness that Cabal wielded. Dark magic was merely a twisted imitation of true darkness.