Chapter 243: Brains Aren’t Cheap
For half a second, Leona Hartwell says nothing.
That alone already feels like a victory.
Her honey-colored eyes stay locked on the four Plates on the table, unblinking. The smile is still there, but it’s lost its recklessness. Zhang Xi looks at the money too, then at me, and her serenity cracks just enough for me to catch it.
Leona props both elbows on the table and leans forward.
"Four Plates," she says, slowly. "Xi, tell me this kid didn’t just drop a gold mine on the table like it was a tip."
Zhang Xi breathes in.
"He has that habit."
"Terrible habit." Leona points at the Plates. "How is this possible? I was picturing five, seven Shards a job. Ten if the owner was desperate and the duct looked like a monster’s throat."
"That’s the mistake," I say. "The maintenance fee is the smallest part."
"Then what’s the biggest?"
"The sludge."
She stares at me.
"You’re telling me the contaminated residue turns into Shards?"
"I’m telling you my rune converts contaminated OXI into condensed currency at a functional scale. Old ducts aren’t just a sanitation problem. They’re OXI reserves abandoned in the walls."
Leona stays still a moment longer. Then she slaps her palm on the table hard enough to rattle the cups.
"Ah, I knew this conversation was going to get fun."
Zhang Xi closes her eyes. "Master Leona..."
"What? It got fun." Leona points at me, the smile coming back with teeth. "Did you register it?"
"I did."
"Runic patent?"
"Primordial. In my name."
Her energy shifts again. Not calmer. Sharper. The teasing stays in her mouth, but her eyes are already working.
"So anyone who copies it without permission eats an OXI penalty."
"If they run it, yes."
"That stops dumb thieves." She taps a finger on the table. "It doesn’t stop a rich guild from hiring an assassin, leaning on the Crown, or burning through disposable Divers as fuses until the penalty lands on the wrong body."
"I know."
"Of course you know. You’ve got the face of someone born knowing irritating things." She leans back and laughs, but the laugh doesn’t lift the weight of the sentence. "Still... registered. That changes the board."
She touches a small silver bell beside the table. The door opens a few seconds later. The Rank A attendant enters with the same impeccable posture as before, as if he hadn’t heard a thing, which means he probably heard enough to know he shouldn’t show it.
"Drinks," Leona says. "Something strong for me, tea for Xi, and for the pretty boy... what do you drink?"
"Something without alcohol."
"Responsible. Tragic." She looks at the attendant. "Bring him something expensive and alcohol-free, so he can pretend he has control over his own life."
"Of course."
The attendant leaves. No one speaks again until the door closes.
Leona spins one of the Plates with a fingertip, without pulling it toward herself.
"You said this isn’t all of it."
"It isn’t."
I touch the small LDP vial still on the table and nudge it beside the Plates.
"The second product is the Lunaria Drop Potion. LDP."
Zhang Xi’s eyes go to the vial at once. She already knows the taste and the effect, even if only from residue. Leona doesn’t. Her curiosity changes targets like a predator switching prey.
"Drop Potion... hmm. An OXI potion?"
"More efficient than that. The common trench formulas recover OXI fast, but they’re aggressive. High acidity, unstable absorption, damage that piles up in the stomach and the internal OXI system. Veterans use them because they have no choice, not because they’re good."
Leona doesn’t interrupt.
"Scales are safe, but slow, and bad for constant logistics when you have to respect the system’s absorption window. OXI Candies work in combat, but they’re too expensive for large-scale operational use. The LDP uses Lunaria as a base and a certain Bone Powder as a stabilizer. That bone powder neutralizes the acidity, smooths the absorption, and keeps recovery high without wrecking the body."
I explain it in technical detail, because she’s a veteran Healer who knows the subject. But I don’t reveal everything.
"How much?"
"A practical dose recovers between six hundred and seven hundred OXI in a single gulp."
Her smile vanishes. Zhang Xi lowers her eyes to the table, as if she already knew the effect that sentence would have.
"No rejection?"
"No rejection. No heavy nausea. No feeling of acid tearing you up inside. And it tastes good enough to mistake for a soda."
Leona looks at the vial.
"Do you understand what that does in a battle hospital?"
"Yes."
"No. I don’t think you do." She picks up the vial but doesn’t open it. "A healer without OXI is just someone watching people die with good intentions."
The door opens before I can answer. The attendant returns with a tray. An amber drink for Leona, pale tea for Zhang Xi, and a tall glass of something translucent, iced, smelling of sea fruit for me. As he pours, I notice Leona’s hand.
It trembles, just barely. Almost nothing. I can’t tell if it’s excitement, surprise, or unease. Maybe all three.
The attendant leaves, and only then do I continue.
"The LDP discount doesn’t only apply to the healers you send to the trenches under the royal minimum-contingent decree. It applies to battle hospitals, rapid-response teams, and runists doing the duct cleaning. People working in contaminated environments who need to hold their OXI without breaking their own bodies."
Leona takes a sip of her drink.
"You want to turn the Silver Fang into the technical, medical, and moral arm of this operation."
"I want to put you where you should already be."
"Careful. Flattery works on me."
"It isn’t flattery." I lean forward. "For someone who preaches that healing shouldn’t ride on profit alone, it’s hard to picture a better plan. The Silver Fang makes money, improves the lives of Divers and Drowneds, strengthens hospitals, cleans cities, and arrives before Silver Flow."
That last name settles between us.
Leona goes thoughtful. Now the negotiation is actually happening. Not with laughter, not with shoulder squeezes, not with comments about my face. She’s weighing risks. Probably the Deepwarden. Probably Silver Flow, the stone in her shoe. The Crown, the patent, the logistics. In short: too much money in too little time.
Then Zhang Xi does something unexpected.
She grabs Leona’s arm with both hands. And looks at her.
It isn’t quite pleading. It’s worse. A silent technique of moral destruction that should be banned by international treaty.
Leona turns her face slowly. "Xi..."
Zhang Xi keeps looking. Her eyes widen to the criminal proportions of a cat begging to be petted.
"Don’t use that face on me."
"Please," Zhang Xi says.
"You’re a grown monk."
"Yes."
"This is undignified."
"Yes."
Leona holds out three more seconds, then loses.
"Damn it." She rubs her face with her free hand. "I hate when you do that."
Zhang Xi releases her arm with a serene, victorious calm.
Leona turns her eyes back to me. The smile returns, but there’s something else behind it now. Less play, more lioness.
"Let’s say I’m interested."
"Good."
"Don’t celebrate." She points the glass at me. "I haven’t decided yet whether you’re a genius, a problem... or maybe both."
"Modesty aside, it’s usually both."
"Figured." She leans forward again, and the room seems to shrink. "So tell me, Dryden Sands..."
Her tone stays light. Her eyes don’t.
"What stops me from handing you over to every guild that’s going to hate this plan? A genius head is worth more than four Plates on the black market. A lot more."
