Chapter 38

Chapter 38

* * *

“You’ve been coming to see me quite often these days, my lady.”

Cookie purred, nuzzling his face into my thigh. I pet him on the head cautiously and he tried to lick my fingers.

“Cookie is very happy to see you, but I’m still working on your request. If you could give me one more week...” The guild master, who’d always worn such an impassive expression, looked harried and overworked today.

I supposed this was hardly surprising since he probably hadn’t been expecting me to bring him extra work. Now that he needed to handle requests from both the crown prince and myself at the same time, he was probably struggling to keep up.

“I’m not here to hurry you along. I actually have something I wish to know,” I said, handing him a trinket as payment and getting straight down to business.

“What is your question?” he asked, perking up as soon as he saw the jewelry.

“Is there a way to monopolize something like a new invention?”

Intellectual that he was, he immediately understood my meaning. “Hmm. You must be referring to a patent. If you get a certificate issued by the Department of Justice, you’ll be recognized as the owner of that particular patent. The system originated with the House of Bisconti around three centuries ago. The Blanchard Guild sometimes files patents for our artifacts and alchemical techniques as well.”

“How do you go about it?” I asked, passing a large bag of jewels to him.

Surprisingly, he refused them. “I’m curious as to what it is you’re trying to patent. If you’ll satisfy my curiosity, I will ensure you get your patent without a hitch.”

I was elated that he was volunteering his services as my patent attorney. If the guild master had experience with filing a variety of patents in the past, he probably knew how best to take advantage of the current laws.

Disguising my desire to smile with a grim frown, I said, “Fine. But we will need a contract stipulating that you will not speak of this discovery to anyone else first,” I agreed, making sure he would keep my work to himself.

“Fine. If I succeed in getting your patent, I would like twenty percent of the revenue you generate from it.” Cleverly, he was requesting a percentage of my profits in payment.

“Are you going to do this every time I come to you with something? I’m a lady of House Seymour, be careful,” I said through gritted teeth, glaring at him.

He groaned. “Okay, then ten percent...”

I tilted my head, cracking my neck without saying anything in response.

“I’ll also give you a thirty percent discount on any artifacts you buy from my guild. How about it?”

Huh? That doesn’t sound like such a bad deal... The guild master was probably hoping to sell me more artifacts by offering me this discount, but I couldn’t refuse the offer. I wanted to buy a handful more of his audio recorders. “I accept.”

“Very well. Let’s hear what it is,” he grinned, pleased with his successful negotiation.

“It’s nothing special. I modified Simeon’s formula and I was wondering if I could patent my version.”

The smile immediately vanished from his face. “What do you mean, nothing special? You modified a formula created by the archmage Simeon? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

His carefully stoic mask began to crack. “Really?”

“If you don’t believe me, hand me that quill.” I showed him a simplified version of my technique and he stared at the paper with a pinched brow for a long moment.

Then he began to laugh weakly. “You never fail to surprise me, my lady. This is incredible.”

“What use is it, even if it’s incredible? It’s useless to me since I have no ability to use mana.”

“Ah! So that’s why you want a patent... I see. You put practical gains before fame, like me.”

“Can it be done?”

“I’ve never seen it done with a formula, but the third clause of the patent law suggests that it should be possible.”

His explanation was as follows: When using magic, mages would imbue mana with various elements. For example, Duke Seymour was a mage famous for his unparalleled talent in transforming mana into the water and ice elements. Sometimes, mages would file a patent for unique element transformations. Such patents fell under the technology category and the modification of a formula to increase casting speed also fell under this category.

“But in this case, the biggest problem is how you will receive payment for the use of the patent. Mana transformation patents usually require an artifact or magical stone, the sales of which generate revenue for the patent holder.”

“Ugh. This isn’t going to be easy,” I groaned. The only function of my modified formula was increased casting speed. Since there was no invention to go along with the patent, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to demand payment for its use. “I can’t ask the mages to pay every time they use my formula... Can I?”

“It’s impossible to police such a system and there will probably be quite the negative backlash if you demand payment for every use. In fact, I think even Duke Seymour would be against it.”

“How about... a monthly subscription system?”

“And what might that be?” the guild master asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“In return for the convenience of my formula, we can charge any mages who chose to use it a monthly fee. I can reduce any backlash by asking for only a moderate fee.”

There had been a website in my world that had sneakily charged 4,900 won every month through a subscription, with me none the wiser. I’d completely forgotten about it since I’d been so busy, and when I finally remembered to end my subscription, I’d already forked out more than 110,000 won.

“How do you come up with these ideas?’

As I ruminated on what a scary thing monthly subscriptions were, the guild master began to laugh, his shoulders shaking. I ignored him and continued.

“Four silver and ninety-nine copper is much cheaper than the fine for a patent infringement. Do you think people will find it to be a reasonable price? And I’ll make good pocket money on the side from it.”

“You’re right, my lady. Fines are levied by the Department of Justice and they are very expensive.”

Yes! It would only take a few people suffering the fine to make an example out of, the rest would all flock to subscribe to my service allowing them to use it. It was cheaper than being hit with a fine, and they could use the formula as much as they pleased. If everyone who dealt in magic of some kind used my service, I’d stand to make a considerable sum every month for the life of the patent.

Many raindrops make a lake. Oh right. I have to give this asshole ten percent...

The guild master smiled at me. “You are a diabolical genius, my lady. Very resourceful when it comes to parting people from their money.”

I’m not a genius. This is just the result of living in a capitalist society for so long. I suppressed a bitter smile.

“Oh, and my lady, you could charge as much as seven silver and ninety-nine copper for the service. They will still think it cheap since most of them earn very high salaries,” he said. “And I noticed that you’ve written several equations here. Why not reveal them slowly, one by one, and increase the subscription fee each time?”

What capitalist society had created this beast? As the guild master refined my tactics and made my scheme even more lucrative, I had to admit I was impressed.

* * *

Everything went according to plan after that, since William Lemont and Professor Kyle gave me more than enough justification to demand payment for use of my technique.

In addition, the patent documentation was coming together nicely. The crux of my modified formula boiled down to the use of parentheses to bind complex sequences of numbers together, as well as the concept of “variables.” These were defined as “core technologies” by the patents office so nobody else was able to patent them now.

The day William had submitted his petition, his father, an elder of the Magic Tower, had gotten into quite the argument about the whole thing with my father. Duke Seymour was very upset as a result. Originally, he had wished for me to present my findings to the public and erase the widely held opinion that I didn’t deserve to study in the Department of Magic. But he had changed his mind.

“How dare those imbeciles disrespect my daughter! I won’t see these half-wits use the formula you put so much work into at no cost.”

It was therefore much easier to convince him.

“A patent, you say? That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

When I asked him to file for a patent on my technique, he actually seemed elated at the concept. While my primary concern was the monthly payments I’d be receiving, Duke Seymour was extremely keen to screw Marquess Lemont over using the patent system. Anyone seeking to use a patented technique needed the permission of the patent holder to do so.

“Forbid the House of Lemont from using the formula at all. Their constant rash words and actions only serve to bog down the advancement of magic.”

As is to be expected of a Seymour. We’re a spiteful lot.

“I’ll make sure they come to regret their foolishness.”

I pretended to be equally as outraged. It would only look good for me if I made it seem as if the humiliation I had suffered was the reason I was doing all this. It allowed me to cover up my real motive—generating a fixed income from the mages.

Thanks to Duke Seymour’s active support, my patent was certified soon after the inquiry was over. Thanks to the various high-profile individuals who had attended the inquiry, I was also able to secure a large initial clientele for my new service.

I have no idea why the administrators of Epsilon all came to watch, but I lost nothing from it. According to Arin, the fifth princess—an administrator of Epsilon and a fire mage—in particular, had been loudly singing praises for my formula.

“She described your formula as more beautiful and exquisite than even Lord Isidor, who is considered the most handsome man in the empire.” Arin Ocelot, while quivering with fear, apparently didn’t let it prevent her from using flowery language.

She seems pretty scared of me, but that doesn’t stop her from saying everything she needs to, does it? I stared at her, a little taken aback, and Arin’s face suddenly turned red. She bowed her head.

“Thank you,” I pat her on the shoulder. She’d done well, faithfully informing me of every rumor circulating in the Department of Magic.

“Whoa!” she cried, jerking back as if a snake had bitten her. She began waving her hands around frantically. “I-I n-need to go g-get some work done! Y-you asked me to do some research...”

“You can go,” I said, noticing how uncomfortable she seemed around me.

Arin put an end to her rambling and dashed away like a scared rabbit.

Her reactions make me feel like I’m a villain picking on some tiny, cute creature. Feeling rather ambivalent about it, I smacked my lips together as I watched her scurry away. I could be kind to her, yes, but I didn’t want to break character.

Sorry. Living my life as the cold-hearted villainess of these parts is the path I’ve chosen. Even though I was extorting seven silver and ninety-nine copper from nearly every mage in the empire on a monthly basis, many people thought I was actually being rather generous because the House of Lemont was infamously unpleasant. And because I was already a villainess in their eyes, nothing I did seemed to surprise them.

This state of affairs pleased me deeply. And I’m going to keep things this way.