"Alright, ladies, please! No need to push," Kenta laughed, a rich, vibrating sound laced with his Incubus Whispers. He stood tall, projecting absolute charm as he unsealed the lids of both buckets.
The moment the air hit the liquid, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The smell of sweet vanilla from Emily’s bucket mixed with the potent, intoxicating caramel-musk of Lara’s Jersey cream.
"Oh my goddess," the plump, green-eyed woman breathed, stepping forward with a large clay pitcher. She leaned in, her eyes wide as she looked into the right bucket containing Lara's golden-tinted milk. "It looks so thick... like liquid gold. If the normal milk gave Elara's husband that much stamina, what does this one do?"
Kenta leaned down, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a perfectly practiced, smoldering intensity. "The premium blend? Let's just say it makes you forget you were ever tired in your entire life. It is pure, concentrated vitality. But as I said, it costs three gold coins a measure."
"I don't care," she said immediately, her face flushing as she shoved her hand into her coin purse. She pressed three heavy gold coins into Kenta's hand, her fingers lingering against his skin. "Pour it to the brim, handsome. My husband is working a double shift at the mill, and I want him wide awake when he gets home."
"A very lucky man," Kenta purred.
He lifted the bucket, letting the thick, syrupy Jersey milk pour into her pitcher. The women watched the heavy splash with rapt, almost hungry attention. The aphrodisiac scent curled into the air, making cheeks flush and thighs cross instinctively across the crowd.
"I'll take the standard!" a younger, blonde woman chimed in, handing over a silver coin. "Just one jug for now!"
"I want the premium!" an older, elegant woman demanded, pushing her way to the front with a porcelain jar. "Here, take the gold!"
"Standard for me, please, Kenta!"
The transaction became a blur of flirting, giggling, and the heavy, continuous clink of coins dropping into Kenta’s leather pouch. He played the crowd perfectly. He offered a charming wink to a shy maid, a respectful, deep-voiced compliment to an older widow, and a suggestive, lingering touch to the hands of the women buying the premium Jersey cream.
He was drowning in recognition. They weren't looking at him like a dirty farmhand; they were looking at him like a savior. A very handsome, dangerously charismatic savior.
Splash. Clink. Splash. Clink.
Emily's sweet milk vanished quickly, bought up by the women wanting to test the waters. But it was Lara's golden cream that brought in the real fortune. The sheer addictive quality of the scent alone convinced several women to part with their hidden savings.
Kenta tipped the right bucket to fill a small clay cup for a blushing baker's wife, but only a meager, frothy trickle came out.
He stopped, looking down into the buckets. Both were completely scraped clean.
Kenta let out a dramatic, perfectly timed sigh, standing back up and addressing the half-dozen women still waiting in line with empty pots.
"I am so incredibly sorry, beautiful ladies," Kenta said, putting on a face of deep, genuine regret. He held up his empty hands. "The harvest is completely finished for today. My girls can only produce so much of this rare nectar at a time."
A collective, high-pitched groan of disappointment echoed through the street.
"What? Oh, no!" a brunette woman pouted, hugging her empty jar against her chest. "But I ran all the way from the baker's street!"
"Please, Kenta! Not even a drop left?" another begged.
"I promise you," Kenta smiled warmly, raising his hands to placate the crowd. "Do not worry! I will be back tomorrow morning. And knowing how much you all appreciate it, I will make sure to bring extra milk. Just have your coins ready, and I will take care of every single one of you."
With a few more shared pleasantries and a final, sweeping bow, Kenta picked up his empty wooden yoke and buckets. He turned his back on the village, walking down the cobblestone road toward the edge of the Murkwood forest.
He kept his posture perfectly straight, the charming smile plastered on his face until he crossed the tree line and the village was completely out of sight.
The moment the shadows of the forest swallowed him, the polite milkman vanished.
Kenta dropped the empty buckets onto the dirt path with a loud thud. He unclipped the heavy leather pouch from his belt. It was bulging. He opened the drawstrings and stared down at the sheer volume of silver and gold coins piled inside.
"Oh my god," Kenta breathed, his eyes wide.
His face contorted into a comically exaggerated expression of disbelief, joy, and sheer capitalist greed. He dumped a handful of the gold coins into his palm, listening to the heavy, beautiful clinking sound they made.
"I can't believe it's actually happening," Kenta laughed, a slightly manic sound echoing in the empty woods. "It worked. It actually fucking worked!"
He squeezed the gold in his fist, practically vibrating with excitement.
"I can't even imagine the day I become fucking rich," Kenta babbled to himself, looking up at the canopy of the trees. "Just kicking back, relaxing in a massive mansion while my beautiful, big-titted cows are making money for me. Drinking wine, fucking beautiful ladies all day and night, and enjoying the luxury life I was robbed of!"
He literally jumped into the air, punching his fist toward the sky.
"Ahhh, Kenta, you absolute genius! You are going to do it!" he yelled, the Incubus energy flaring around him in a wave of triumphant heat.
He landed back on the dirt path, breathing heavily, a massive, unhinged smile on his face. He looked back down at the fortune in his hands. It was more money than the original Kenta had seen in a month, and he had made it in less than an hour.
Slowly, his manic smile softened just a fraction. His mind drifted back to the barn. To Emily, exhausted and bare in the hay, giving him everything she had. To Lara, the beautiful chocolate heifer who had surrendered to his hands so completely, providing the very golden cream that had made him rich today.
"They worked hard," Kenta murmured, weighing the gold in his hand. "They practically emptied themselves for me. Emily was worried she couldn't produce enough because of that rotten grain."
A sense of genuine, possessive responsibility washed over him. They were his livestock, his empire's foundation. And a good master takes care of his prize breeders.
"My cows deserve a reward for what they did for me," Kenta decided, securing the pouch back onto his belt. He looked back toward the village. "I guess I should go back and buy them some proper, premium food today. With these gold coins, I can buy the absolute best feed in town."
He picked up his empty buckets, his stride lighter and faster than before.