Mr. Banks's mouth hung open, no sound coming out. He felt that his expression at this moment must resemble that of a stupid pufferfish.
"Two thousand...? But... wouldn't that be too much?" he stammered.
The President was famous for his caution; in the past, when faced with high-risk projects, he would rather not lend a single cent than risk a loss. Many said Gulf Bank couldn't compete with the larger banks precisely because the President lacked a spirit of adventure.
Yet this time, he actually offered to quadruple the loan amount right out of the gate?
Is there some sort of charm magic attached to this magic tablet that made the President lose his mind?
"Banks, can't you see the massive commercial potential of this thing?!" The President's tone was one of exasperation. "If this can truly be promoted to the market, it will absolutely trigger a revolution in the toy industry!"
"...But President, didn't you say earlier that lending to a toy merchant was worse than going to a casino?"
The President remained silent for a moment. "My point is that business is like gambling, Banks. High risk, high reward. Fortune favors the bold."
That's total sophistry! You change your face faster than a circus performer!
Mr. Banks asked gloomily, "Then what about the ToyJoy Company?"
"This tablet is imbued with magic; ToyJoy won't be able to 'imitate' it so easily. Even if they do manage to create a knockoff, it would certainly be a long time from now. And as for the Magic Tablet..." The President stroked the tablet, unable to put it down. "I daresay that within half a year—no, just three months—we'll be able to recover the entire loan with interest!"
"But Mr. Lorne Dungeon has no guarantor and no assets to use as collateral. Lending him two thousand gold coins at once... what if he runs off with the money?"
The President pondered for a moment. "Then let him use the patent for the Magic Tablet as collateral."
There were indeed precedents in the banking industry for using intellectual property as collateral, but without exception, they were always patented products that had already achieved success in the market. The Magic Tablet was still just a prototype; for the President to agree to use it as collateral showed he was dead set on cooperating with Lorne Dungeon.
Mr. Banks knew that while the President appeared good-tempered on the surface, he was a stubborn old man at heart. Once he made up his mind, no one could talk him out of it.
"...Alright." Mr. Banks sighed. It wasn't like he owned the bank anyway; he was just a lowly employee. If the boss had spoken, could he really resist until death?
He checked his watch. In three hours, the bank would open for business. The last time Mr. Banks had pulled an all-nighter like this was back in university while writing his thesis.
"I need to head home once before the bank opens to wash up and change my clothes," Mr. Banks said with a long face. "Being out all night... my wife will definitely blow the roof off the house."
"But your children will be very happy," the President said distractedly. "Now you know what to give them as a gift for the Winter Solstice Festival."
Mr. Banks's eyes lit up. As a credit manager, it wouldn't be strange for him to get the product earlier than others, right? He could imagine the craze the Magic Tablet would cause once it hit the market. If his children could get it before anyone else, they would definitely be the coolest kids in school!
"I'll hired carriage back. Do you want to come along?" Mr. Banks rubbed his hands together.
"I still have some official business to finish; you go ahead." As the President spoke, he moved toward his desk, using his body to shield the Magic Tablet on the table.
Mr. Banks narrowed his eyes. "You just want to stay and play with the tablet, don't you?"
The President feigned looking at the scenery. "What are you talking about, Banks? As the President, is it not right for me to test a client's new product?"
"I am Lorne Dungeon's credit manager! I, as the direct person in charge, should be the one testing it!" Mr. Banks had no intention of handing over the Magic Tablet, even for just a few hours.
"Banks, why aren't you going home? Your family must be worried!"
"You too, President! Aren't you going to rest? At your age, don't try to pull all-nighters like the young people!"
"Damn it, Banks, move! The Magic Tablet is mine!"
"It's mine! Mine!"
At dawn, before the bank had even opened for business, a cruel struggle for power broke out within its walls.
"Your bank is willing to lend me two thousand gold coins?"
In the morning, Lorne returned to Gulf Bank as agreed to visit Mr. Banks. Today, Mr. Banks was not only haggard and hyperactive, but his clothes looked like they had been torn, making it seem as though he had run into bank robbers while working late last night.
Lorne was naturally more than happy that Gulf Bank was willing to lend more. With sufficient funds, he could choose a shop in a better location, purchase more materials, and maybe even have some money left for advertising. You can't rely solely on word-of-mouth to sell things.
However, Gulf Bank's condition was that he had to use the patent rights for the Magic Tablet as collateral.
If Mr. Banks hadn't brought it up, Lorne wouldn't have even thought about registering a patent. After all, in his previous life, he was a game developer, not a console developer. He had registered copyrights before, but he knew very little about patent registration.
Since the bank was willing to handle the patent registration for him, Lorne accepted the offer without hesitation. He was more than happy to have someone else deal with the tedious procedures. Once he had the patent, he would have more legal standing if any infringement occurred.
Besides, as long as he paid off the loan on time, the patent rights wouldn't end up in the bank's hands anyway.
Having made up his mind, Lorne signed the contract on the spot. Mr. Banks introduced him to a lawyer who specialized in patent registration.
Hearing that the patent to be registered was for a magical item, the lawyer was stunned. "In my twenty years of practice, this is the first time I've heard of a magical item needing a patent." The lawyer looked at him with a complex expression.
"Isn't Norelia the home of the Wizard's Tower? Do the mages never register patents?" Lorne asked curiously. Was the intellectual property protection awareness of these mages really that weak?
"They don't care. Besides, no one dares to steal a mage's patent. You wouldn't even know how you died," the lawyer said, shuddering.
As requested by the lawyer, Lorne submitted the blueprints and explanatory materials for the Magic Game Tablet. The rest of the procedures were left to the lawyer to handle.
A few days later, Lorne received the two thousand gold coins from Gulf Bank.
He took Silas and Serina, disguised as humans, for a walk around the city and chose a storefront located at the junction of the new and old districts.
"De... Lord Lorne, why didn't you choose a commercial street with more foot traffic?" Serina asked in a low voice.
"I have my own considerations," Lorne said. "Norelia's new district is centered around the university, and most schools are located there, so there are many young people. The old district is built around the Wizard's Tower, where nobles and wealthy merchants live. Which do you think we should choose: a large number of cash-strapped young people, or a small number of 'Whales'?"
Silas and Serina listened, half-understanding. They had only recently learned the term "Whale" from Lorne, referring to humans who spend large amounts of money to play games.
"We should choose the Whales!" Silas answered like an eager student. "They have money! We can only make money if they spend it!"
"Exactly. A few Whales can support an entire game," Lorne nodded.
In his previous life, under pressure from his boss, he had made plenty of trashy, reskinned browser games. As long as such a game attracted three to five Whales, it could be incredibly profitable. But Whales often "lose interest" after a few months. Once they leave, the game loses its lifeline; at that point, the company shuts down the server and starts making the next trashy reskinned game.
"If you want a game to run for a long time, relying solely on Whales isn't enough. The vast number of non-paying and low-spending players are the backbone of a game. First, they increase the game's popularity and create word-of-mouth. Second," Lorne curled his lip, "free players are also part of the game experience for the paying players."
"I don't quite understand..." Silas whispered.
"It's okay, you'll understand eventually," Lorne said with his hands behind his back. "Let's go buy some obsidian."
The dwarven shop that sold obsidian was located in Norelia's old district, not far from the Wizard's Tower. The street it was on was called "Adventurer's Avenue," situated right in the shadow of the tower. During the Heroic Age, this street was the most prosperous place in Norelia. Weapon shops, armor shops, and potion shops lined the street, with famous Heroes from all over the world coming and going. They bought equipment, restocked items, sold loot, looked for suitable teammates, and boasted of their deeds in taverns for bards to sing of their glory.
Today, however, Adventurer's Avenue had declined just like the dungeons. Most shops were closed, and the few still in business were empty. There wasn't a single pedestrian on the street. Occasionally, footsteps would echo from the shadows only to vanish quickly, making one wonder if they had seen a ghost.
The dwarven shop was called "House of Hammer," and its sign featured a large, sparking hammer.
Perhaps because the dwarves were always known for their exquisite craftsmanship—and no matter the era, people with a specialized skill never have to worry about food—the business at House of Hammer was still decent. When Lorne and the others arrived, the owner was sitting by the window repairing a golden pocket watch.
Hearing someone approach, the dwarf didn't even look up as he said, "Feel free to look around, but if you dare steal anything, watch out or I'll chop your hands off."
"Ahem!" Serina cleared her throat loudly to get the dwarf's attention.
"If you have a cold, go see a doctor! Don't infect me!" The dwarf still didn't look up.
Serina turned to Lorne. "Lord Lorne, let's go check out the goblin shops instead."
The dwarf suddenly jumped up. "You'd have to be crazy to go to a goblin shop! Those half-evolved creatures don't know the first thing about craftsmanship... Oh, Miss Serina!"
After recognizing the visitor, the dwarf's attitude did a complete 180-degree turn. He took Serina's hand and kissed the back of it exaggeratedly several times.
"Respected Miss Serina, I didn't know it was you. What are you selling today? I promise to give you the best buying price!"
It seemed that whenever life got tough at the Gloom Catacombs, the monsters would come here to pawn their belongings.
Sigh, those were all things that belonged to the Demon King!
Lorne felt a pain in his chest, making it hard to breathe!
"We're here to buy things today," Serina gave an enchanting smile.
"Where did you get the money? Did you rob a bank?" The dwarf was shocked.
"What nonsense are you talking about, you bearded old potato!" Serina snapped playfully.
She turned to Lorne. "This is the owner—Firehammer."
Firehammer the dwarf scrutinized the silver-haired youth beside Serina.
He looked like an ordinary human, dressed much like those mages in the tower whose nostrils were pointed at the sky. But how could a monster like Serina be hanging around with an ordinary human? This young man must have an extraordinary background.
Firehammer pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on. These were "Goggles of True Sight" obtained from a mage, which could see through illusions or identify magic on objects. The stronger the mana, the more intense the light emitted through the goggles.
The dwarf looked toward Lorne.
A second later, he screamed and threw the glasses away.
"Ah! My eyes! My eyes!"
The intense mana light from Lorne had nearly blinded Firehammer. He had never seen anyone harbor such immense mana. Even the Archmage of the Wizard's Tower only looked like a walking lightbulb through the Goggles of True Sight. But Lorne... the last time Firehammer had seen such light was when he was a kid and stupidly stared at the sun.
Suddenly, Firehammer understood the identity of this silver-haired youth.
To have Serina and Silas acting so respectfully, there was only one possibility...
"The... Demon King of the Gloom Catacombs?"