The heavy wooden door of Elara’s cottage clicked shut, but Kenta didn't immediately walk away. He stood on the cobblestone path just beyond her garden gate, the crisp morning breeze doing little to cool the dark, triumphant heat radiating in his chest.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the three heavy gold coins. The cold, solid reality of the metal sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to his brain.
"Damn," Kenta whispered to himself, a low, breathy chuckle escaping his lips. "I can't believe I was actually able to sell it to her right after that mess."
He adjusted the heavy wooden yoke across his broad shoulders, his dark eyes dropping to the bucket on his right. The lid was securely fastened, but in his mind’s eye, he could still see the thick, golden-tinted cream splashing against Elara’s chest. He could still smell the overwhelming, intoxicating aroma of caramel and heavy musk.
"This milk..." Kenta murmured, his mind racing as the pieces of his grand puzzle began to snap together. "It’s not just sweet. It’s highly addictive. It’s a literal aphrodisiac."
He began to walk down the quiet street, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone.
"If that’s what a mere splash on the skin does to a respectable, married woman," Kenta calculated, his eyes narrowing with dark ambition, "I can sell Lara’s milk at a vastly higher price. Once people try it, once they feel that rush... they’ll empty their vaults for a single drop."
He paused, a slight frown briefly breaking his confident mask. There was one glaring flaw in his newfound business model. Emily was fully bound to him by the System. She was his absolute slave, both in mind and biology. But Lara... Lara was a wild Jersey variant who had merely sought refuge. She was grateful, yes, but she wasn't officially under his control yet.
"Lara is not in my control. That's the problem," Kenta mused, the heavy buckets swaying slightly as he resumed his pace. "If she decides to leave to find her herd, my premium product walks out the door."
But the frown didn't last long. It slowly morphed into a wicked, predatory smirk.
"No need to worry," Kenta whispered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "She practically melted when I milked her this morning. She craves the harvest. I will find a way to make her submit to the System anyway... and then, I will be the absolute richest man in this entire kingdom."
"Hey! Excuse me, is that you? The new milk guy?"
The sudden, high-pitched call broke Kenta out of his dark reverie.
He stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. "Huh?" he muttered, looking up the street. "Are they talking to me?"
Coming down the cobblestone road was a small group of village women. There were three of them, dressed in neat, respectable morning dresses, carrying empty wicker shopping baskets. They were whispering excitedly among themselves, their eyes locked directly onto Kenta's tall, imposing frame.
As they drew closer, Kenta could smell the faint scent of baking flour, cheap floral perfume, and the distinct, nervous sweat of women who were suddenly very interested in a stranger.
"Hey," the woman leading the group called out again, her pace quickening. She was a slightly older, elegant woman with sharp features. "You are that new dairy guy, right? The one who was knocking on doors yesterday?"
Kenta instantly straightened his posture. The dark, calculating predator vanished, seamlessly replaced by the charming, infinitely polite salesman. He offered them a deep, elegant bow, ensuring the muscles of his back and shoulders flexed visibly under his shirt.
"Ah, yes, ladies. That is me," Kenta smiled, letting a hint of his Incubus Whispers bleed into his tone, wrapping his voice in a warm, resonant velvet. "I am Kenta. The owner of the new dairy."
The elegant woman stopped a few feet away, her cheeks suddenly dusting with a faint pink blush at the sound of his voice. She fidgeted with the handle of her basket.
"I... I wanted to apologize," she said, her tone completely different from the harsh dismissals he had faced yesterday. "I'm sorry I rejected your milk yesterday morning. Actually, Elara came by my house late last night. She brought a small cup of what you sold her. She told me all about you."
Another woman, shorter and plumper with bright green eyes, eagerly stepped forward, practically pushing her friend aside. "She said the milk you sold was something else entirely! I gave the cup to my husband this morning before his shift, and... well, he really liked it. He had so much energy, and he was in such a... good mood before he left." She fanned her flushed face with her hand, a suggestive giggle escaping her lips. "That’s why we were hoping to buy some from you directly!"
Kenta’s heart hammered with triumph. Day two, and the word of mouth was already spreading like a wildfire. Madame Valerie’s monopoly was cracking right before his eyes.
As they spoke, two more women from a neighboring house stepped out onto their porch, drawn by the commotion and the deep, carrying timbre of Kenta's voice. They quickly hurried over to join the circle.
"Is this him?" one of the new arrivals whispered loudly, looking Kenta up and down with blatant, hungry appreciation. "Oh my... Elara wasn't exaggerating."
"Hello there, handsome," the green-eyed woman purred, stepping just a fraction closer, her eyes lingering on his chest. "I must say, looking at you up close... you look so incredibly fine. A man with your broad shoulders and... ahem, assets... what is the need for doing a simple delivery job like this?"
"Yeah," the elegant woman agreed, giving him a bold, sweeping look. "You look more like a knight than a milkman. It's almost a crime to hide you away on a farm."
Kenta ate it up. He stood in the center of the growing circle of housewives, feeling the absolute power shift. Yesterday, they had slammed doors in his face. Today, they were practically throwing themselves at his feet, eager for his product and hungry for his attention.
He flashed a brilliant, wide smile that made half the women in the circle visibly swoon.
"You flatter me, ladies," Kenta chuckled, his deep voice sending a collective shiver through the group. He slowly lowered the wooden yoke, letting the heavy buckets rest gently on the cobblestones. "I assure you, taking care of my... special livestock is a very demanding job. But I am always happy to personally serve beautiful women like yourselves."
He gestured gracefully toward the two closed buckets at his feet.
"Yes, everyone will get milk today," Kenta announced, his eyes gleaming with the promise of gold. "However, I must inform you... I actually have two distinct variants available. One is my standard, sweet milk. But the other..." He tapped his boot lightly against Lara's bucket. "...is an extremely rare, incredibly rich blend. It is very expensive, but I promise you, it tastes better than anything you will ever put in your mouths."
The women leaned in, completely hooked.