Episode 11
She knew this day would come.
Anyone working in the underworld eventually got shady offers.
And if you were the one selling miracle hair-growth potions? All the more likely.
Lindsay stared at the man blocking her path with a look that said: Finally, huh.
But she wasn’t scared.
Not at all.
She had three layers of defensive magic wrapped around her body, plus dozens of attack spells she could cast without chanting.
She might not be able to resonate with the moon like other witches, but her raw power was top-tier.
The man looked strong for a human, sure… but still.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Playing dumb, huh.”
The man frowned.
Normally, he’d toss someone like her to his men and let them “convince” the target—physically or mentally.
But since he wanted the Witch’s cooperation, that option wasn’t on the table.
A contract.
That was the best way: the Witch gives what he needs, he pays her what she wants.
Both sides get something. After quickly calculating in his head, the man spoke.
“With your skill, the only reason you’d be dealing in the black market is because you need money.”
“Black market? Excuse me, I’m a good, law-abiding citizen of the Empire.”
Lindsay shoved him aside with one hand.
He let himself be pushed, but then grabbed her wrist.
A shimmer appeared—her greenish defensive barrier flickered under his hand.
His eyes lit up.
“An active shield, always on? Impressive.”
Lindsay scoffed and tried to walk past.
But then the man dangled bait.
“One million gold. I’ll pay you one million per potion.”
Her steps froze.
The man’s mouth curled into a grin.
Lindsay silently freaked out.
One million?! That’s not just some random dog’s name; that’s insane money!
The potions she sold in the Deep Market were already considered ridiculously expensive.
Sure, their rarity and effects justified the price, but considering the average commoner lived on about 100 gold a month, her potions were luxury goods.
And this guy was offering ten thousand times that. Per bottle.
Lindsay clutched her pounding chest and turned back to him.
Even after robbing Lionel blind, she knew—gold was like food.
You could never have too much.
The man crossed his arms, smug, chin tilted up.
He looked like a jerk, but the sum was too tempting to ignore.
Lindsay bit back her annoyance.
“What kind of potion?”
“This place isn’t suitable to discuss such an important matter. Let’s move somewhere else.”
She shook her head firmly.
“And why should I trust you? No thanks. If you don’t want to talk, then forget it. I don’t need this deal.”
A pity.
But that was the right move—always make the other side think you don’t need them.
Otherwise, you’ll end up getting scammed.
Despite her stubbornness, the man pulled a card from his pocket and handed it over.
Lindsay glanced at it—then her eyes went wide.
The card read:
[ Raven Daily
President Michael Oklama
Contact: 01-XXX-X
We welcome tips about illnesses, new drugs, and magical potions. ]
A single emotion washed over Lindsay’s face.
Her cheeks stretched upward, her lips curling into a grin so wide it almost split.
Her throat trembled with excitement.
She quickly forced herself to calm down. If she looked too happy, he’d get suspicious.
“…Alright. Lead the way.”
“That’s strange. You’re being far too cooperative.”
The man eyed her warily.
He’d shown his identity first to try to convince her—but even so, her reaction was way too suspicious.
“If you want, I can play hard to get.”
She didn’t care if he doubted her.
He was desperate—so desperate he didn’t even bother searching for excuses.
“…Fine. Follow me.”
He checked behind him to make sure the Witch was coming along quietly, then subtly signaled to his hidden subordinates.
Lindsay looked around the office they brought her to.
The atmosphere screamed decadence.
A black marble floor with thick carpets.
A massive wooden table in the middle, and a matching desk.
Everything was top-quality, but all in shades of deep, bloody red.
It reeked of obsession.
She knew the type.
A child raised under constant abuse often grew up with a compulsive fixation—like the man who owned this room.
Born in a world with rigid class systems, as a bastard of a noble house? Of course, he’d end up with issues.
All lives are equal when born, yet here, they were ranked and discriminated against by bloodline.
That was the world of the novel Lindsay found herself in.
She leaned back into the sofa, sighing.
Whatever.
I’ll wrap up this mess, go home with Nero, and farm in peace for the next ten years.
But…
“Why isn’t he back yet?”
He’d gone to fetch some documents, he said.
But the man hadn’t returned.
Her tea had gone cold on the table. Thirty minutes passed.
She started doubting whether following him here was the right call.
When she first saw his card, she thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Way better than waiting around in the Market, hoping the heroine would eventually notice her mana-enhancing potion.
But now?
Am I just wasting my time here?
At least if Nero was with her, it wouldn’t feel this boring.
She yawned, jaw stretching wide, when finally the office door opened.
She asked flatly, “What, you had to write the documents from scratch?”
“Sorry. It’s an important request from someone high-ranking. The paperwork took a while.”
“Ha. High-ranking my ass.”
She sneered. His lies were laughably obvious.
Her disguise potion (Impersonation Mask) hid her face perfectly, letting her smile naturally.
But she wondered—what did his real face look like under his mask?
“Not even bothering to hide, huh?”
“You already knew, didn’t you? No reason to hide then. Let me introduce myself properly. I am Raven, head of the Raven Information Guild.”
On the surface, “Raven Daily” was a respectable newspaper.
In the shadows, though, it was a ruthless information network that would do anything to gather intel.
And the reason was clear—because of the man behind it.
Michael Oklama.
Real name: Michael Perdeus.
Bastard son of the Perdeus dukedom.
The first illegitimate child to ever claim a ducal title—not inherited, but seized.
His mother had once revealed his parentage in front of the Perdeus townhouse, out of spite.
Passersby recognized her as one of the capital’s most infamous courtesans.
The scandal spread everywhere. Overnight, the bastard’s existence was known across the Empire.
But no one at that time could have guessed that the boy would one day behead his own father and take the dukedom for himself.
From a young age, Michael seized control of House Perdeus and grew his influence.
One of the powers he built was the Raven Information Guild.
Even after becoming duke, he kept up the cover of a newspaper president, all while hunting for medicine to heal his childhood friend.
Pathetic or romantic—call it what you want, but it was devoted love.
Lindsay remembered this part clearly from the novel.
Just like Lionel, just like Aria—Michael Perdeus was vivid in her memory.
Because Michael Perdeus wasn’t just anyone.
He was the male lead of the novel she had reincarnated into.
