I Don’t Know the Original, I’m Too Busy Trying to Make a Living

"So, you’re planning to just take the green herb soap entirely away from Halo?" Penelope’s voice was sharp, her frustration evident.

"Think carefully," Duke Quantis said, his tone smooth and patronizing. "You’re getting an incredibly generous deal in return."

A generous deal?

Green herb soap, one of Halo’s most prized innovations, being dismissed so flippantly made Penelope’s blood boil. Her hands curled into fists, and her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest.

Demanding the recipe for soap and cosmetics in exchange for a mere trade route—this wasn’t diplomacy, it was outright robbery. The only thing missing was a blade at her throat.

And worse, there was no guarantee their extortion would end there.

‘Even if I give up the herb soap, there’s no assurance they won’t come back for more. This isn’t just a one-time theft—it’s the beginning of a systematic takeover.’

Halo’s greatest weakness lay in its position as a small northern domain unable to sustain itself independently.

‘The next time, it’ll be another magical tool. Then another. Until there’s nothing left of Halo.’

Penelope’s head snapped toward her companions. Their faces were a mix of anger and indignation, as red as hers. They looked as though they might leap from their seats in protest.

"We’re leaving," Penelope announced firmly. "There’s nothing more to discuss here."

"As you wish," the steward replied, rising to his feet. Ivetta and Pablo stood as well, their determination evident. Lastly, Ahwin got up with a leisurely stretch—though Penelope pointedly ignored him.