A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Chapter 386: The Prologue Wished by the Devil - III

Ansel, holding Ravenna's hand, approached the onlookers and inquired softly, "What has transpired here?"

"Ah... Oh? It seems that these two vegetable stalls have been facing each other for three days now. The murdered vendor, his vegetables were from that, uh, Pelican Trading... Commerce? Right, right, affordable and delicious!"

The respondent smacked their lips, "Indeed, they're delicious. I bought a bunch of radishes yesterday. I've never tasted radishes as good as these, and they were only a copper coin more expensive than the usual market price."

"So, you mean to say..." Ansel observed the unfortunate vendor lying dead at his stall, his tone filled with melancholy, "The other vendor couldn't compete with his sales, so he... murdered him?"

"Ha, it's not just about not being able to compete! That vendor didn't have a single customer in three days! Now, everyone only looks for stalls marked with the Pelican Trading Commerce emblem in the market, not even glancing at the others."

"Do they have that much stock?" The young man asked, his tone innocent and puzzled.

"Who knows! Their vegetables seem to appear out of thin air! Anyway, there's always someone delivering them."

"Hmm... Delicious and affordable, isn't anyone afraid of eating something problematic?"

Hearing this, the respondent looked peculiar and somewhat wary, glancing at Ansel, "Are you an adversary of the Pelican Trading Commerce?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because that's exactly what those guys claim."

An onlooker, arms crossed and visibly annoyed, interjected, "They say the Pelican Trading Commerce's food must be problematic, that eating it would surely lead to issues... At first, many believed it, but those who started buying early have been enjoying it for days without a single problem! Now, anyone who still believes such nonsense is a fool!"

He continued, frustrated, "They just want us to eat their inferior food, huh, wishful thinking. I'd have to be out of my mind to buy their food!"

"So it is..." Ansel remarked, "This vendor's death is truly tragic, to die so senselessly."

"Indeed," the onlooker scoffed, "The murderer is really asshole."

"How long had he been selling food here?"

"Ah... It seems about a decade or so, I remember seeing him sell vegetables here since I was a child."

The young count licked his lips: "Let me then stoke the flames for you... fortunate ones."

The farmers were some distance from total collapse, but what if... he were to ignite this conflict prematurely?

By inciting hatred on both sides, the farmers of Pelican City, in their rush to crush other ordinary farmers, would increase production madly, destroying the existing grain market at a terrifying pace, obliterating all ordinary farmers.

Count Watson smiled, thinking how easily these mindless beings could be provoked.

A farmer is but a farmer, whether they till ordinary fields or enhanced ones, they are always just farmers.

They all possess but one life... easily plundered, do they not?

At this moment, Count Watson considered himself a genius.

You are truly the epitome of foolishness, Count Watson.

Ansel sighed lightly.

The deliberate exacerbation and forced acceleration of the conflict, with the unmistakable traces of human intervention, were exceedingly crude and unsophisticated.

If I were to take this seriously, it could be considered a direct affront to me, a violation of my demands, and I would be justified in raising my hand to shoot and kill you, Mr. Count, from several kilometers away on the spot.

You should feel fortunate...

Ansel glanced at the miss puppet beside him, who gazed blankly at the brawling, screaming, and cursing crowd, then at the corpse on the stall, and at the fresh blood still dripping drop by drop onto the fresh, plump vegetables.

Seeing her expression, the devil revealed a smile that came from the heart.

You should feel fortunate, for what I desire is precisely this.

The prologue ends, and what follows will be a tempest.

Are you ready, my dear Helen?

*