Charles nodded mechanically and followed the attendant down a side passage in the lobby. When they reached the door at the end and pushed it open, what greeted them was an enormous room carpeted in soft, pale brown fabric.
At the center of the room's ceiling hung an extravagant chandelier—dozens of circular lights blazing brightly despite it being daytime, an undeniable extravagance. Below the chandelier stood a round table with two steaming cups of goat milk tea placed opposite each other, clearly freshly prepared.
Across from the lobby entrance loomed an even larger wooden door, its size clearly designed not for humans, but for the passage of a massive blue dragon.
"Please have a seat. The Prince will arrive shortly," the waiter said with a respectful bow. "Should you require anything else, simply ask, and we shall accommodate you."
"No, thank you," Charles replied, swallowing hard as he took his seat. He continued in Draconic, "The tea will suffice... Though, if I may ask—I'm just an ordinary merchant here to secure investors. Surely there's nothing about me that would warrant the attention of a great blue dragon?"
The blue dragonborn attendant merely smiled. "The Prince has his reasons. The wisdom of blue dragons is vast—far beyond what we might presume to comprehend."
Charles fell silent, resigning himself. Well, no choice now. Desperate times call for desperate measures—I'll just have to improvise.
As he steeled himself, the massive wooden door ahead slowly swung open.
A blue dragon, standing over three meters tall with a gleaming golden horn, stepped gracefully into the room.
Charles held his breath, his pulse quickening. This was his first time—completely unprotected—in close proximity to a living, carnivorous behemoth.
The largest creature he'd ever encountered before had been an African elephant at a zoo, separated by barriers as he fed it fruit.
But this? This was a blue dragon—larger than a full-grown bull elephant and sitting at the very top of the Material World's food chain.
Beside him, the blue dragonborn attendant bowed slightly. "Your Highness."
Charles hastily rose to his feet, dipping his head as he delivered the meticulously rehearsed praise in Draconic: "Nigel Charles, at your service. It is an honor to stand before the ruler of the desert, the apex of the Material World—the great blue dragon, Prince Rahman."
"From the moment I beheld you, I realized—all the art I've ever admired pales in comparison to your majesty!"
The syrupy flattery made even the dragonborn attendant glance sideways. This human came prepared. I wouldn't have the nerve to lay it on that thick.
Across the table, the massive blue dragon dipped his head, visibly pleased by the sycophantic praise. "Sit. This investment you seek... I shall discuss it with you personally."
With deliberate grace, the dragon settled at the opposite end of the table, folding his wings against his back. He raised one foreclaw to rest against his whiskered jaw—a calculated gesture that prominently displayed the ten massive, magic-pulsing gemstone rings adorning his talons.
Charles risked a glance. His stomach lurched.
Most were unfamiliar, but two he recognized—each easily worth ten thousand gold on the market.
Extravagant.
Swallowing hard, he murmured, "The honor is mine."
As he sat, he steeled himself. Stay calm, Charles. Remember—show enough deference, acknowledge their dominance, and blue dragons become the easiest creatures to deal with, evil or not.
After all, metallic dragons would impose moral constraints, but a blue dragon? No such scruples exist.
Across the table, the blue dragon's golden vertical pupils gazed down at him with unsettling warmth, as if beholding a long-lost friend.
"Explain your proposal," the dragon continued.
Charles didn't dare delay. He quickly retrieved the documents from his case. He had prepared three copies; an attendant took one and placed it before Rahman. Only when the dragon was settled did Charles begin, forcing confidence into his voice:
"The opportunity I've identified lies in the Amazons' housing demands..."
He presented market research—a questionnaire-based investigation surveying over four hundred Amazons. Ninety percent believed settling in Liberl Port would benefit their advancement. Other districts' housing prices were prohibitively expensive, but affordable options in South Harbor District would be enthusiastically welcomed...
His team saw tremendous economic potential. Data analysis comparing other large enterprises' growth suggested Amazon Fisheries Company was still expanding rapidly. Within two years, up to a thousand Amazons could have both the means and desire to purchase property...
They proposed acting before competitors noticed this market. With South Harbor District currently plagued by monsters and depressed land values, this was the perfect time to acquire property...
Of course, they recommended starting small—an initial 8,000 gold investment for phase one, with potential follow-up phases if successful...
The financial systems of this era were primitive compared to his previous life's sophisticated rounds of funding—seed rounds, angel investments, Series A through D.
Though Charles only grasped the basics, he'd been confident these modern concepts would revolutionize local investment practices, offering superior protection for both investors and entrepreneurs—an overwhelming advantage over conventional methods.
But now...
He spoke passionately, yet the blue dragon across the table seemed utterly disinterested, flipping through the proposal with polite detachment as if enduring a tedious tale.
Charles felt his heart sink like a stone.
What was happening?
Why did this blue dragon seem so impatient?
Was the amount too trivial?
Then why summon him personally?
Just where had he gone wrong?
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he struggled to comprehend. Only when he finished the final page did he release a shaky breath, his throat dry as he ventured cautiously, "Great Prince Rahman... what are your thoughts on this proposal?"
Rahman suppressed the faintest hint of a yawn. Economic matters bored him—yet this wouldn't hinder his true objective.
"Mr. Charles," he rumbled, "what would you be willing to sacrifice for this funding?"
Charles blinked. "You mean... company shares?"
"No." The dragon's tail twitched. "I refer to you yourself."
A frown creased Charles' brow as ominous realization dawned. "I beg your pardon, Prince Rahman? I fear I don't quite follow..."
"An analogy, then." Rahman plucked the petite proposal between two claws—ludicrously small against his massive frame. "Suppose—hypothetically—a blue dragon matriarch of royal lineage took... an interest in you. Serve her well, and she might grant investments far exceeding your modest proposal."
He let the document flutter to the table.
"Say... fifty thousand gold. Would that tempt you?"
Charles' mind went blank.
What?
A blue dragon matriarch... wanted him?!
This...
Damn it all! Why did this keep happening!
Charles cursed inwardly. When he first transmigrated into this handsome new body, he'd thought it would be an advantage. Yet so far, these striking features had brought neither him—nor the body's original owner—anything but endless trouble!
First, the original owner had caught Hattie's attention because of his looks, ending up with his soul completely drained.
Then Charles himself, being too conspicuously handsome, got marked by Xanathar's Guild thugs and subsequently investigated by Blackstaff Tower's investigation team.
And now, some unknown blue dragon sugar mommy wanted to buy him as a pet...
Screw this! Maybe I should just disfigure myself and be done with it!
After a moment of internal debate, he steeled himself and met Rahman's gaze firmly. "My apologies, honored Rahman—"
"Eighty thousand gold," Rahman interjected.
Charles' breath hitched, but his voice remained steady. "I'm afraid I must—"
"One hundred thousand gold," Rahman countered smoothly, then added, "Her heart yearns for companionship. Should you please her, her generosity may far exceed this sum."
The blue dragonborn attendant shot Charles a sidelong glance, only to see the man—though visibly stunned—draw a deep breath and stand his ground. "With all due respect, Prince Rahman, before stating my position, I must first express that being acknowledged by a great blue dragon is truly an honor."
"However, what I seek is a legitimate business partnership. Should I acquire funds through the... favor of a hypothetical blue dragon matriarch, it would blur the lines between personal and professional dealings."
"Such mixing of affairs would inevitably lead to negligence in my duties, as I'd devote my efforts to pleasing this hypothetical matriarch. In the long run, this would harm our mutual interests—and likely incur her wrath, leaving me in pieces."
He bowed slightly. "To avoid this lose-lose outcome, I must respectfully decline the hypothetical matriarch's... appreciation."
As he finished speaking, cold sweat drenched his back.
In essence, his lengthy spiel boiled down to one simple message: I don't do personal service!
Of course he refused. Who knew what twisted tastes this "hypothetical" blue dragon matriarch might have? Alcohol torches and steel brushes might be the least of it—a three-hundred-year-old, lonely blue dragon matriarch surely had mastered countless cruel amusements!
No amount of gold was worth crippling himself over.
As a former player, Charles had seen real wealth. In the late game, he'd casually tossed around hundreds of thousands of gold without a second thought. Did Rahman really think he'd sell his body and dignity for a paltry hundred thousand?
Still...
Though he'd phrased it as politely as possible, he knew the dragon understood his refusal. This "Rahman" wasn't an NPC from the game, making his temperament unpredictable. Now, tension coiled in Charles' gut—would he even leave this bank alive?
Damn it, this is a true blue dragon!
And this was its lair. Who knew what other horrors lurked within?
A bead of sweat traced his temple as Rahman's golden vertical pupils bored into him, studying every microexpression. The lobby hung in deathly silence, that eerie calm before a storm.
After an agonizing pause, the blue dragon suddenly chuckled.
"Excellent, Mr. Charles," he rumbled. "Congratulations—you've passed my test."
"I've long sought partners with both flexibility and unshakable will—those who won't bend even before a blue dragon," he continued, sighing lightly. "Yet until now, I've only encountered sycophantic worms. How could I entrust funds to such spineless creatures?"
The tension in the hall dissolved. Charles exhaled discreetly while inwardly scoffing: Bullshit. You're only saying this because I refused.
Had I agreed, you'd be spinning some opposite nonsense right now.
The male blue dragonborn attendant shared similar thoughts: Your Highness, you've never personally tested clients before. Since when do you "evaluate" random humans?
This was clearly about finding your mother a new consort!
Though both mortals harbored doubts, Rahman cared not for their silent judgments.
He raised one talon, the red gemstone ring upon it pulsing with gentle arcane light. Crimson magical threads extended, reforming into an official seal that floated onto the table.
"Let's begin with an initial investment of twenty thousand gold," he declared. "Blue Dragon Bank deals in no petty sums—spend freely."
"Be bold, Mr. Charles. Your proposal reveals rare talent. Unleash it without restraint!"
His encouragement flowed generously, yet each praise only deepened Charles' unease. This feels like some hidden conspiracy...
Is he waiting for me to fail, so he can claim me as compensation?
Hiss... This gold burns hotter than I'd like.
"The contract details, you may discuss with my staff."
With that, the massive blue dragon rose, his tail—long as his forebody—swaying lazily as he ambled toward the exit.
Yet just before leaving, that great head rotated 180 degrees, fixing Charles with a razor-edged smile:
"Work hard, young man. I eagerly await your glorious success."
One final step. The doors sealed shut. Only then was the Blue Dragon Prince truly gone.
Charles finally released the breath he'd been holding. Beside him, the male dragonborn attendant approached with practiced courtesy:
"This way, sir. We have standard contract templates—please review any desired modifications."
"Should all terms suit you, we may sign today itself."
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