Rorschach did the directing, and Hasse did the legwork, running himself ragged and talking himself hoarse. While Hasse was at the negotiating table, sweating and flushed, Rorschach was in a Munich city square reading and feeding pigeons, the picture of nonchalant ease.

It was a pity that coffee had yet to be introduced to Bayern in this plane of existence. If he were to start his day drinking from a heavy two-pound glass of beer, like one of those old drunks with beer bellies they’d been cultivating for decades, he wouldn’t feel quite so good about posting it to his social feed, even if he had a phone.

Mr. Hasse was starting to get the hang of things. He used to think that becoming a Middle Level partner in the Balderom Chamber of Commerce was the peak of his career, the absolute ceiling. He never imagined that a chance encounter would lead him to his current position as a semi-independent senior partner. Rorschach always gave him a free hand in business operations, allowing Hasse to get a taste of what it was like to be the boss.

As for what made the young Mage’s business style so different from his own, Hasse realized that he himself had always dealt with clients, most of whom were other merchants. Rorschach, on the other hand, apart from dealing with his own team, preferred to engage with mages, Nobility, and scholars. Of course, he was making full use of his own status, earning his fortune not as a mere merchant.

After the negotiations with the Munich Royal Family and the Bayern Engineering College were concluded, the "Fanta" scholarship that Rorschach had proposed was officially launched. To make their new sponsor feel his money wasn’t being squandered, the college administration arranged for him to give a speech, much like how they invited His Majesty the King to give an address every academic year.

But Rorschach was no King. And before these students of what he considered a rather "primitive" science and engineering, he actually had things to say. He transformed what the students and faculty had expected to be a perfunctory performance of platitudes into a summary lecture on the "Second Law of Thermodynamics."

"Did you understand Mr. Rorschach’s speech?" the chancellor asked Hasse, stroking his beard. Hasse shook his head frantically, while the dean of the School of Architecture and Engineering nodded nonstop.

"I hope all of you will study hard to provide the people of Bayern with more and more affordable products, bringing them a better life. This, too, is one of the founding principles of Fanta."

’Huh? Since when was that one of our principles?’ Although he was one of Fanta’s founders, Mr. Hasse was completely dumbfounded. Still, he caught Rorschach’s signal that the speech was over and instructed the staff to distribute sodas to the students in the audience.

Soon, everyone had a bottle of beautiful purple soda in hand. Rorschach took one as well and raised it high. "Cheers! Your life is what you love!"

The hall erupted with shouts of "Cheers!" Hasse suddenly felt that, while he hadn’t understood a word of the speech, its effect was undeniably impressive. He was confident their research department would be able to recruit more high-value employees.

’The less they know about Magic, the better,’ Rorschach decided. ’They can be assigned to future positions related to the Transmutation Dust Collector and Magic Arrays. They’re cheaper, and less likely to leak secrets than an Apprentice.’

The visit to the college and the Basif acquisition were successfully concluded under Mr. Hasse’s management, which meant it was time for Rorschach to leave Munich.

Before Rorschach’s departure, Hasse was flipping through his shorthand notebook. Inside were the arrangements Rorschach had ordered, as well as some of his sayings. "’Your life is what you love!’... I think this phrase is particularly good. It could be a slogan for the new product."

"Absolutely not. It sounds like we’re saying our drinks spoil easily." Rorschach was spouting more nonsense that Hasse couldn’t understand. Fortunately, the merchant was used to it by now. ’If I could understand everything he said, wouldn’t that make me a Mage too?’

"I’m heading north to Wertzburg. I need to go remind your young master to exercise some self-control. The last time I saw him, he was practically floating. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he floated right out of bed as a ghost." Rorschach finished packing his luggage. The blueprints had been temporarily moved to the inner vault of the Fanta company, freeing up space in his Storage Ring.

"Have a safe trip. Thank you for all your hard work."

"No, Mr. Hasse, you’re the one who’s worked the hardest. You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know." Rorschach could see how much the man had exerted himself. ’Then again,’ he thought, ’Hasse wouldn’t dare to be neglectful. He only feels at ease after personally overseeing anything I mention. That attitude is certainly commendable.’

After offering these few words of comfort, Rorschach saw that Hasse still looked like he had something on his mind. "What is it?" he asked.

"A merchant like me can only ever make small profits. It takes someone of your status, doing what you do, to make the real money."

Rorschach was amused by the middle-aged man’s epiphany. It was such an obvious truth in this era that it was almost pointless to say. ’It’s precisely because you’re only just figuring this out now,’ he wanted to tease Hasse, ’that you’ve only ever made small profits and were pushed out on this long assignment by the other partners.’

Although both Bayern and Valois practiced mercantilism for the sake of tax revenue, the merchant magnates were still one crucial step away from truly rising to the top.

"Mr. Hasse, you are mistaken."

"Ah?"

Rorschach told him in a sincere, meaningful tone, "I’m not in it for the money. These ventures... aren’t just about making a profit."

"Then you..." ’If another merchant had said that,’ Hasse thought, ’I might have slapped him and spat on the ground.’ But it was true that Rorschach could have a successful life even without getting involved in any of this.

"Look at how happy and satisfied the citizens are drinking our beverage! And look at the students who want to join Fanta—they’re so full of hope for the future!"

Hasse finally had a profound epiphany. "I get it! Business is a form of charity! Even though we make money, we bring satisfaction to our customers and... and opportunity to our employees!"

’Fine, I guess you’ve achieved some sort of class consciousness. That’s a good thing, right?’ Rorschach was left speechless by the fanatical merchant. "I... you know what, forget it. Don’t say any more. You’re right, Mr. Hasse. Goodbye!" He waved his hand and climbed into the northbound carriage.

’Since I promised a friend, I should finish this last task before taking off.’ Rorschach was actually looking forward to participating in the reconstruction of the Bart Mage Tower. That way, he’d have some experience when it was his turn to build one. ’Plenty of people run into all sorts of pitfalls just with renovations, and with zero background in civil engineering, I’ll have to rely on the help of others to get it done.’

However, the person he met upon his return to Wertzburg was Prince Otto. Following the address he’d gotten from Bart in a letter, Rorschach arrived at his and Amelia’s "love nest"—a manor far more spacious than his small base in Munich, situated on high ground to the west of the city. The view was excellent; looking out from any east-facing window revealed a panorama of terraced vineyards, residential homes, and tributaries of the Duma River.

Right at the manor gate, Rorschach, who was about to enter, crossed paths with the Prince, who was on his way out. The Prince and his guards were disguised in plain clothes, and their carriage bore no Royal Family crest. The Prince saw who it was and, without waiting for Rorschach to offer a greeting, said simply, "Nicely done."

Then he left.

’Huh? I’ve done quite a few things nicely, which one is he referring to?’ Rorschach could only watch the eccentric prince head down the hill before he turned and rang the doorbell.

"Otto, did you forget..." The lady of the house, assuming her brother had forgotten something, called out from the dining room as the maid opened the door. Rorschach stated his purpose: "Please inform Mr. Bart that Rorschach has arrived to fulfill his promise."

"Rorschach, your timing is perfect! My head is about to explode from trying to design this Mage Tower!" Bart had already heard Rorschach’s voice and was coming down from the second floor. He wore a white shirt and suspenders, a charcoal pencil tucked behind his ear, looking for all the world like a master craftsman in his workshop.

’No, my timing is terrible!’ Sensing trouble, Rorschach desperately wanted to turn around and walk away.