"No more questions!" the thin man snapped, his patience fraying. "Give us the recipe. Now."
The dark-haired Emery remained perfectly calm. His voice, low and steady, cut through the tension like a blade.
"Wait. First, you said you wanted to buy it. Now you want me to hand it over for free? Huh. I'd rather let the recipe die with me. I assure you, I have ways to destroy myself so completely you won't be able to pry a single memory from my corpse."
The thin man's smile faltered. His greedy eyes flickered with anxiety. "No, no… wait. Let's not be hasty. Fine—how much do you want?"
Emery tilted his head. "How much do you have… on you right now?"
At this, the grand magus who loomed behind the thin man let out a snort of irritation. His aura flared, pressing like a stormfront against the room.
"He's bluffing, boss. Let me handle him."
