Now that the product was ready, all that was left was to mass-produce it and turn it into a marketable item.

“Stir it well,” Ghislain instructed.

The workers diligently stirred the extract as Ghislain had directed. After stirring for a while and allowing it to cool, the extract thickened.

Ghislain scooped a small amount with his finger and rubbed it between his hands. The extract quickly absorbed into his skin.

Curious workers cautiously approached him.

“What... what is that, Lord?” one asked hesitantly.

In most other territories, commoners wouldn’t dare speak to their lord, let alone ask him a direct question. The very idea would be unthinkable.

But thanks to Ghislain’s informal and approachable demeanor, the people felt comfortable asking simple questions.

“Is it some sort of medicine for the skin?” another inquired, noticing the pleasant fragrance.

Ghislain smiled proudly. “Ah, you don’t know? This is called ‘essence.’ It’s a concentrated extract of the best ingredients from herbs.”

“And what do you use it for?” one of the workers asked.

“Nobles use it for skincare,” Ghislain explained, his confidence growing. “Many people are obsessed with looking good.”

“Oh, I see…” The workers nodded even though they didn’t fully understand. After all, what did they know about the luxurious items that nobles used?

Nobles often extracted the beneficial properties from herbs and fruits, using them in beauty treatments or applying steam to their faces.

Wealthier families might even use divine power or magic for such purposes.

However, most of these methods yielded minimal results. While consistent use could improve skin slightly, the results hardly justified the enormous investment of time and money.

But this product was different. The worse one’s skin was, the more dramatic and fast the results would be.

“This will become a must-have item for nobles,” Ghislain said with a self-assured grin.

Nobles, regardless of gender or age, tended to obsess over their appearance. Clear skin was a symbol of wealth and status. If word got out that this product could improve one's appearance, it wouldn’t take long for it to become a widespread trend.

In his previous life, this very product had swept across the continent, making the Delphine Dukedom a fortune.

“I’ll need to run a few tests,” Ghislain mused.

While the product looked identical to the one he remembered, he still needed to verify its effectiveness.

“I suppose Belinda would be the best judge,” he thought aloud.

Belinda had a subtle fondness for cosmetics and skincare. Even though she worked in a relatively poor northern estate, she maintained fair and smooth skin, thanks to her interest in skincare.

Ghislain filled a small glass bottle with the essence and went to find her.

“Belinda, here, try this. Apply it to your face,” he said, handing her the bottle.

“What is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a cosmetic—very good for your skin,” Ghislain replied.

“Really? Where did you buy it? These kinds of products are usually expensive… Did you buy this just for me? Which brand is it?” she asked, astonished.

Belinda was well aware of Ghislain’s frugality. While he seemed willing to spend money on certain things, he was notably stingy when it came to luxury items. He didn’t care much about fancy clothes or appearances.

So, it was surprising that he had brought back an expensive cosmetic product, typically reserved for nobles.

‘I must have raised him well,’ Belinda thought, feeling a brief sense of pride—until Ghislain’s next words quickly brought her back down.

“I made it myself,” he declared.

“...”

Ghislain looked at her confidently, as if nothing were amiss.

Belinda stared at him with half-lidded eyes. “Lord Ghislain, you do know that you can’t just use any random cosmetic on your skin, right?”

“Of course I know that. That’s why I made sure this one works,” he replied proudly.

“I never taught you how to make cosmetics. Where did you learn this?” she asked, incredulous.

Belinda had been responsible for educating Ghislain from a young age, but never once had she taught him anything related to alchemy or handling medicinal herbs.

And yet, here he was, confidently handing her a product he had made himself.

“You do realize that if this messes up my skin, there’s no going back, right?”

Cosmetic products were incredibly expensive, so some people, in their desperation for cheaper alternatives, had resorted to using dangerous substances like lead or mercury on their faces.

Of course, most of those experiments ended in failure.

In the best-case scenario, the products simply didn’t work. In the worst cases, they worsened the skin or caused illnesses that led to a slow, painful death.

Many quack alchemists who disfigured nobles with their faulty products paid the ultimate price—by losing their heads.

“You know what? I’m not going to use it. My skin’s fine the way it is,” Belinda declared.

Being able to handle mana to some extent gave her a degree of enhanced healing and slowed aging. As a result, her skin was already in good condition.

But Ghislain was persistent.

“If you use this, your skin will be even better. It’ll practically glow! Trust me!” he insisted.

“No way! If something goes wrong, not even divine power or magic will be able to fix it!” she retorted.

Divine power and magic were exorbitantly expensive, and not everyone could afford them. Even then, their effectiveness was limited. They could heal wounds and enhance regeneration, but the cosmetic benefits were marginal at best.

“Thanks for the thought, but I’m really not going to try it. My skin is important to me,” Belinda said firmly.

“Why don’t you trust me? Didn’t I succeed with the farming?” Ghislain grumbled.

He was annoyed that she refused to even try the product. Couldn’t she at least humor him and give it a shot?

Belinda, however, provided a blunt answer. “That was different. Whether I believed in you or not, I could just watch the results. This? I’d have to test it on my own face. Who’s going to volunteer for that?”

She had a point. Watching a farm project succeed was one thing. Using an experimental cosmetic on her own skin was quite another—especially when there was no going back if things went wrong.

“Hm…”

Ghislain frowned. Forcing it on her would only result in her throwing it away secretly.

While Ghislain’s own skin was remarkably smooth thanks to his newfound powers, he knew that any improvement from using this product wouldn’t be dramatic on him.

Perhaps he should find someone else to test it on.

After Belinda made a quick exit, Ghislain spent some time wandering around, contemplating who else he could ask.

Just then, he spotted Wendy passing by. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed him.

“Hey, Wendy! Just the person I was looking for. I have a gift for you. Try this out,” Ghislain said, waving her over.

“What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“It’s a cream that’s great for your skin. I made it myself. You trust me, right?”

“I’m… uh… I’m kind of busy right now. Sorry!” Wendy’s figure blurred as she used mana to hastily make her escape.

Ghislain clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Really? She even used mana to run away? As if she wasn’t just heading to Claude.”

With no other options, Ghislain decided to approach Claude.

As soon as he entered the office, he saw Wendy hiding behind one of the pillars. Sighing, he handed the cosmetic to Claude, who inspected it with a suspicious look.

“So, this is supposed to be our territory’s specialty product? A cosmetic for skincare?” Claude asked.

“Exactly. Nobles will go crazy for it. It’s going to be so popular, we won’t be able to keep up with demand,” Ghislain boasted.

“Heh… heh heh.”

Claude chuckled to himself, barely containing his disbelief.

‘This is it! Time to make another bet!’ he thought.

Thanks to his connections with noble families at the academy, Claude knew just how much effort nobles put into skincare.

When they found a product that worked, they’d spend fortunes to get their hands on it.

But not just anyone could make effective cosmetics.

It took extensive knowledge of medicine, herbology, and alchemy to create a product that actually worked.

‘Our lord never reads books. He’s completely out of touch with studying.’

Claude had seen the meager selection of books in the office—mostly a few volumes on military strategy, all gathering dust.

There was no way Ghislain, of all people, could have made a proper cosmetic.

Carefully masking his true thoughts, Claude asked, “Are you sure this is unique? There’s nothing like it in other territories?”

“Of course! I invented it,” Ghislain replied.

‘Bingo!’

If Ghislain really was the first to make this, then there was no way it would sell.

Even if it did somehow work, no noble would trust an unknown product from a backwater territory.

Claude, already envisioning the failure, put on a fake frown as he said, “You’re trying to ruin my face, aren’t you? You want to keep me locked up, working for you forever. Isn’t it enough that I’m already a slave?”

“I’m telling you, it works! Don’t you trust me? I succeeded with the farming, didn’t I?” Ghislain grumbled.

“That’s different. This is skincare. No one’s going to use something like this. Who would trust it?” Claude said in a challenging tone.

Ghislain raised an eyebrow, clearly provoked.

“Oh, yeah? Want to bet on it? We’ll see if it works or not.”

“I’ve quit gambling… What’s the wager?” Claude asked cautiously.

“Twenty years. But if I lose, I’ll take ten years off your sentence and throw in five thousand gold.”

“Hmm…”

Claude pretended to think it over. The stakes were high, and he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.

‘I’ll need to lower the risk a bit,’ he thought.

“Alright, but give me a moment,” Claude said, stepping back.

“Why? What are you up to?” Ghislain asked suspiciously.

“I need to find someone to join me in this bet,” Claude replied as he hurried off to find Alpoi.

Alpoi scowled the moment he saw Claude approach. He was still bitter about losing the last bet because of him.

But Claude, no longer fazed by Alpoi’s hostile looks, simply smirked. After spending enough time with him, Claude had learned that Alpoi wasn’t as tough as he appeared.

“What do you want?” Alpoi grumbled.

“I’ve got a great idea. Hear me out,” Claude began.

“Get lost. I’m not listening,” Alpoi shot back.

“Oh, come on. Just listen. This could be our chance to escape slavery,” Claude said, his voice dripping with temptation.

“Escape slavery? Our chance?” Alpoi echoed, his interest piqued.

“Yeah, our lord’s gone and made some cosmetic, calling it a specialty product…”

Claude explained everything he knew and speculated about the situation, convincing Alpoi bit by bit.

“Didn’t your tower try making something like this before?” Claude asked.

“Well, yeah, we did.”

Many mage towers dabbled in various businesses since magic research was so costly.

Naturally, some had tried creating cosmetics, knowing it was a lucrative market if successful.

But none had managed to produce anything truly noteworthy.

Even the brightest minds in magic and alchemy hadn’t cracked the code to an effective beauty product.

Claude grinned as he continued, “So, how did it go? Did they make anything worth using?”

“Our tower’s master, a sixth-circle mage, couldn’t even make cosmetics. All he managed was some fancy soap.”

“And now, here we are, with our lord thinking he can do what mages and alchemists couldn’t. Do you really think it’ll work?”

Alpoi shook his head. “There’s no way he made it on his own. Someone must’ve helped him.”

“Who? If they were that skilled, they would’ve gone to someone richer and more powerful than our lord.”

“…”

“So, what do you say? Want to bet your life one more time?”

“I quit gambling…”

Claude gave Alpoi a pitying look, snorting in disbelief.

“You only gambled once, and you call that quitting? Gambling isn’t something you quit—it’s something you resist. And when the opportunity comes, you bet. That’s life.”

“Hmm…”

After some hesitation, Alpoi finally nodded, his eyes steely with resolve.

“Alright. I’m trusting you on this one.”

“Don’t trust me. Trust yourself. Trust in your knowledge and experience. You’re the heir to a mage tower, the best mage in this territory. You’re always the best, brother.”

Claude playfully punched Alpoi’s chest.

Feeling his confidence swell, Alpoi nodded again, his face flushing with excitement.

“Yeah, I’m Alpoi. I’m a man who never gives up.”

It was a grand statement for a pair of compulsive gamblers.

But to the mages listening nearby, it sounded like a passionate declaration of brotherhood and camaraderie.

“Let us join! We should all stand together!” one of the mages called out.

“Yeah! Let’s team up! This time, we’ll destroy our lord’s overconfidence once and for all. We’re going to win!”

With determined faces, Claude and the twenty-six mages marched forward.

“...They’re all insane…” muttered Wendy, who had been observing the whole scene while on guard duty, her face pale with disbelief.