Free Web NovelChapter 75: Chapter 75 Seeds of Commerce
Elara’s POV
Quentin sat rigidly across from me and pressed on, "I noticed some fruit aboard your vessel. May I inquire—did you acquire it through trade, or perhaps it originated from..."
"I cultivated it myself."
Quentin went completely still, his gaze locked on me in shock.
I could see the shock in his eyes as he likely wondered, "She cultivated it herself? I assumed she might have bartered for it, or... but never imagined she’d grown it personally."
If his previous courtesy stemmed from my influential family connections, now he held genuine respect for me as an individual.
A female Purifier who cultivated her own produce? Quentin regarded me with profound, authentic reverence.
I gave a firm nod. "I did indeed. If it interests you, we could establish a business arrangement."
An exclusive partnership would spare me the trouble of seeking out customers—far more convenient.
My husbands possessed wealth, but a woman shouldn’t depend entirely on charity. Naturally, I’d accept their offerings—but generating my own income brought much greater fulfillment.
And I certainly possessed the abilities.
"Truly?" Quentin’s tone betrayed his thrill.
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"Absolutely," I grinned. "Cost isn’t a concern. You may taste-test first."
I clicked my fingers, and a dish of cleaned strawberries materialized before Quentin.
His expression turned thunderstruck.
"Go ahead." I motioned for him to sample one.
Quentin possessed a warm, gentle appearance, so I felt no suspicion around him. If I wanted consistent revenue, he represented precisely the type of associate I’d choose.
He has trustworthy features—I have faith in him.
Quentin couldn’t restrain himself any further. Like the men back at the compound, he began with proper etiquette, then couldn’t stop cramming them past his lips.
Dorian behaved identically, scraping every plate spotless each time.
Quentin demolished the entire serving before regaining his composure.
"My apologies for that." He pressed a cloth to his lips, attempting to mask his enthusiasm.
I replied, "No worries. You’ve sampled them—what’s your verdict?"
Quentin flashed an enormous thumbs-up. "Outstanding. What’s your asking price per piece?"
I smiled, "Ten thousand credits apiece."
I’d consulted my device: even basic fish in zesty tomato sauce commanded two hundred thousand credits. For premium strawberries like these—plump as eggs—ten thousand was practically giving them away.
Quentin agreed with a nod. He recognized it as a bargain rate. Galactic contamination was widespread; even the Valerion Empire possessed increasingly limited clean earth for cultivation. Synthetic nutrients were affordable and filling, but they left people feeling hollow.
Authentic food made all the difference.
The strawberry he’d just consumed was irresistible. After finishing it, he felt more energetic and sharp-minded.
That wasn’t mere fantasy. These fruits were nurtured with my wood abilities—saturated with pure, vibrant energy. Consuming them elevated both physique and spirit.
Quentin declared, "They’re sweet, succulent, flawless. I want exclusive distribution rights. Will you provide solely to me? I’ll offer twenty thousand per piece."
"Agreed." I nodded.
I adored profit but despised overcomplicating matters. Exclusive distribution, fair compensation—settled.
Plus, my greenhouse contained far more than strawberries alone.
Quentin was elated. He prepared a contract immediately and presented it to me. We both signed without delay.
Shortly after, a payment notification appeared on my screen.
Thirty million?
"Quentin, isn’t this excessive?" I questioned.
My two containers held barely five hundred strawberries.
Quentin rose, offered a respectful bow, and beamed, "Thank you for consenting to collaborate with me. This thirty million represents my personal gesture to cement our alliance. And... I did consume an entire serving."
He chuckled awkwardly.
Moreover, my position was unique. This arrangement signified much more than simple commerce to him.
Partnering with a female Purifier was a privilege.
"Very well then." I suddenly felt somewhat like a swindler.
I rapidly composed recipes and preservation instructions for strawberries and transmitted them to Quentin.
The more he reviewed, the more animated he became. He nearly bowed repeatedly. This partnership justified every credit.
I said, "Simply contact me when you require more."
Quentin shook his head. "No, Ms. Sterling, I couldn’t impose on you. Provide me with a location, and I’ll collect them personally..."
I raised my palm to interrupt him, "I’ll handle deliveries myself."
