Miss Witch's Devotion Has Gone… Twisted-Chapter 259: Medicine

"This medicine the Vampires sell for only ten silver, and you want thirty silver?"

A thin man stood in front of a merchant, aghast that the merchant dared charge so much.

Vampires already sold things at high prices, and supplies were limited. If someone reacted a bit slowly, they had to buy medicine at inflated prices from scalpers.

"You can choose not to buy."

The merchant toyed with the bottle in his hand and said confidently.

The truth was plain: they had to buy it, or they would be tortured to death.

"Cough, cough..."

The man began to cough violently, spewing a lot of blood.

"Alright, alright, I'll buy..."

In the end he gave in. The man trembled as he handed over his money pouch to the merchant. It still wasn't enough, so he also handed over a few banknotes hidden in a clothing pocket. Only then did he receive a bottle of medicine.

After taking the medicine, the man couldn't wait and swallowed a pill. His coughing stopped, the tense expression on his face relaxed in an instant, and a sickly smile spread across his lips.

Loren had investigated. The medicine worked much like a toxin and had little therapeutic effect; at best it temporarily numbed pain while providing euphoria.

Even so, people had no choice but to buy it.

At first the Vampires sold the medicine directly to people. Once people had felt its effects and became dependent, the Vampires sold batches to scalpers, who then marked up the price. This time people could no longer buy the medicine first-hand.

As the drug was used more, people developed resistance and needed larger doses to ease the pain. Dependency formed and, in the end, people could not live without the Vampires' medicine.

Hiding at the edge of the crowd, Loren pulled his hat brim low, activated the psychological concealment of the Dragon-Skin Black Robe, and followed the departing merchant.

The Vampires’ methods were so vicious that Loren felt no moral burden intercepting their profits.

...

The merchant went to a castle. High-ranking Vampires liked to live in places like this; ordinary villas no longer matched their status.

On the way, the merchant had been targeted by robbers, but after he produced a gun they had retreated.

There were many people around the castle, mostly women who were at least passably attractive. They stood in line as if being interviewed.

The merchant entered through a secret side door, while Loren openly went through the main gate. He wanted to see what those people were doing.

In the living room a line of people stood. They cut their palms with knives, poured their blood into wine goblets, and attendants brought the cups to the Vampire seated at the main chair.

"Your Viscountship, please sample this batch of blood."

The Vampire lazily raised a cup and tasted it, frowning.

He said nothing, however, and only spoke after sampling each cup:

"This batch is no good. Let the next group in."

"Wait! Your Viscountship! I used to be a celebrity..."

As the others left with their heads bowed, a woman suddenly spoke, her voice carrying a trace of confidence, albeit faint.

Her face had fallen apart—heavy dark circles and a haggard look that made her eerie.

Many looked like this because they had taken too much medicine. Some wealthy people sought the medicine's pleasure even without sickness, and that addiction dragged them down to this state.

Loren felt that even if the epidemic vanished, sales of this drug would not drop much. The withdrawal pain had already surpassed the suffering from the epidemic itself.

"I can produce plenty of celebrities of your tier on a whim. That won't improve the quality of your blood. If you need money, go sell blood—join those homeless people."

The Vampire Viscount spoke without any politeness. The former celebrity said nothing further and left in a daze.

Because Vampires existed in Uridia, blood could be sold for money here. Most of the blood sold went to ordinary Vampires. Vampires with ranks typically kept a few blood slaves of their own. Blood slaves were not anyone—those who became blood slaves were often human nobles.

That explained why most of the people here were women; some failed to recognize their own positions.

In their thinking, "I will be a blood slave for high-ranking Vampires," and "blood slaves of high-ranking Vampires are mostly nobles," so "I am roughly equivalent to a noble."

Even if they were not chosen, simply being tasted by the Viscount could be new ammunition for bragging.

Not long after the next group entered, an attendant leaned close to the Vampire Viscount and whispered something. He then dismissed the crowd and shut the door.

"My lord, here is today's money."

The merchant Loren had been tailing placed a bag of coins before the Vampire and opened it to show him.

He had even been thoughtful enough to exchange the coins for larger denominations.

"Fine, count it."

The Viscount said little and handed the bag to the attendants to count.

From start to finish, the Viscount maintained an elegant demeanor—exactly how most Vampires presented themselves.

"By the way, raise the medicine price to fifty silver tomorrow."

Thirty silver equaled a worker's monthly wage. Buying once could ruin a month's earnings; fifty silver would crush them.

One bottle of medicine certainly would not last a month.

"What if they can't afford it?"

"Then let them sell blood. Also, remember to lower the blood-buying price at the blood station tomorrow."

Even as he said this, the Vampire kept his composure. He held his goblet out to an attendant, who understood and cut his palm, pouring the blood into the cup.

While they chatted and laughed, a discordant voice suddenly came from the side:

"I suddenly remembered a saying..."

"Who goes there!"

The Viscount threw down his goblet in fright, and the attendants immediately stepped in front of him in protection.

After taking a few deep breaths, the Viscount recovered somewhat, though his face remained pale and shaken.

As a Vampire Viscount, he was not particularly strong in combat; his power lay in position alone.

"I swing a sword for three days and cannot clear a street, yet they scratch with a pen and bodies lie in heaps... Throat-Severing Slash!"

Loren continued speaking and immediately shouted the name of his martial skill. He gave them no time to react. Two attendants were cut down, and the Viscount and merchant were stunned into immobility.

When the merchant finally reacted and tried to flee, it was too late. A precise crimson streak pierced the back of his skull, destroying his brain without spilling a drop of blood.

"Blood Moon Condensed Light? Are you one of the Bloodline Rebels?"

To the Viscount, someone using blood magic and attacking Vampires could only be a member of the Bloodline Rebels.

Before he could speak further, Loren had already seized his throat and Pluto's Mouth quietly activated.