Chapter 81: How to Negotiate Like an MC
"Well... I don’t," Max admitted, keeping a small smile on his face despite looking slightly awkward.
Conversation had never really been his specialty.
Even back in his previous life, talking to strangers had ranked somewhere below doing taxes on his list of favorite activities.
Sure, if he truly wanted to become the hero of this world, he’d probably have to get better at it.
On the other hand...
Being a hero didn’t seem nearly as appealing as the view currently in front of him.
Yennefer’s brown breasts, firmly gathered by her corset dress, had been pushed upward with remarkable determination, making it increasingly difficult for Max to remember what they were supposedly talking about.
Inside his head.
"But," Max continued with the same innocent smile, "if I do tell you... what do I get in return?"
The question made Yennefer raise an amused eyebrow.
"Oh?" she asked. "And what exactly do you want?"
For one dangerously honest moment, Max considered saying, My face between those beautiful brown things.
Thankfully, the last surviving fragment of his self-preservation instinct tackled the idea before it reached his mouth.
He simply smiled mysteriously instead.
The silence only amused Yennefer more.
"...Money?" she guessed.
Max scoffed at the suggestion.
"Money? I already make more than I need."
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
He was making plenty of money.
The only minor detail was that most of it somehow ended up in Zerena’s pocket before it ever had a chance to visit his own.
Still, Max didn’t mind all that much.
If he ever wanted some spending money, he had ways of earning it himself.
For example...
The four extra potions currently sitting quietly inside his bag.
"And if it isn’t money," Yennefer asked, sounding slightly more impatient now, "then what do you want?"
Max couldn’t help noticing something.
Older women seemed remarkably easy to annoy.
Zerena certainly was.
Yennefer didn’t appear far behind.
Not that Max intended to play the same role with her.
Acting like an innocent, obedient boy worked with Zerena because the old Max had spent years building exactly that image. Changing it overnight would’ve only made her suspicious.
Yennefer, however...
Didn’t have those expectations.
There was no reason for him to pretend to be a harmless pushover around her.
There was another reason too.
Max had grown rather fond of letting Zerena believe he was still the same innocent boy she’d always known.
It made life surprisingly convenient.
She’d end up blaming the system for things that were, at least occasionally, helped along by Max’s own initiative, while he quietly escaped with an expression that suggested he’d simply been caught in unfortunate circumstances.
It was an arrangement he found remarkably efficient.
Yennefer, however...
Was different.
He didn’t need to act harmless around her.
Even if he still lacked the courage to be openly reckless, teasing her a little didn’t bother him in the slightest.
"That’s no fun," Max said with a grin. "Why don’t you keep guessing?"
He tilted his head innocently.
"Or... should I give you a clue?"
Before Yennefer could answer, the curtain leading to the storeroom was pushed aside.
Her grandson, Alfie, walked out carrying the bundle of herbs.
She waited until Alfie disappeared back into the storeroom before speaking again.
"Since I don’t enjoy playing guessing games, I’ll be straightforward."
Sliding the neatly packed herbs across the counter toward Max, she folded her arms.
"I’m not stupid. Whether you call her your aunt or your grandma, she’s clearly using these herbs to brew potions."
She looked him directly in the eye.
"The most I’m asking is this—whoever’s making those potions, have them teach my grandson too."
Her tone softened slightly.
"I’m willing to pay whatever I can."
Then, noticing Max’s expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, she added a little more firmly,
"And I do mean whatever."
Max let out a quiet chuckle.
"...That is a tempting offer."
For a moment, he looked genuinely thoughtful.
Then he shook his head with an apologetic smile.
"But I can’t."
He lowered his gaze to the herbs, casually checking their quality as he continued. If He was to hand that information over this easily, it probably would make it look like it wasn’t worth that much in the first place.
That answer made Yennefer’s expression harden slightly.
Max, meanwhile, let the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary before smiling.
"...Right now?"
Yennefer stared at him.
The unnecessary pause had done its job.
"So when, then?" she asked, sounding noticeably more irritated than before.
Max casually pulled out his phone and held it toward her.
"Give me your number," he said. "I’ll let you know."
Yennefer gave him a look that suggested she was reconsidering whether selling him herbs had been the right life choice.
Still, she took the phone.
"This is my personal number," she said while entering it. "Don’t go handing it around."
By then, Max had already finished inspecting the herbs one last time.
Taking the phone back, he slipped it into his pocket with an easy smile.
"Then I’ll contact you later."
Max was just about to leave.
Then he stopped halfway to the door.
His expression suddenly changed.
He stared blankly into empty space.
At first, Yennefer didn’t think much of it.
People occasionally zoned out for a second or two.
This, however...
Kept going.
Five seconds.
Then ten.
Max continued smiling at absolutely nothing, looking strangely pleased with whatever invisible thing had captured his attention.
Yennefer couldn’t help herself.
She even leaned slightly to the side, trying to see what he was looking at outside the shop.
Nothing.
Just the usual street.
By the time she’d decided to ask whether he’d accidentally fried his brain with too much mana, Max suddenly turned back toward her.
A broad smile spread across his face.
"I’ll call you tonight."
Then he walked straight out of the shop.
Leaving Yennefer standing there with her brows knitted together.
She glanced at the phone number she’d just given him...
Then toward the closed door.
For the first time in several years, a very practical question crossed her mind.
’...Did I just give my number to a crazy person?’