The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

The next day arrived, and Desmond carefully examined the notification he received from the System, his eyes scanning the details that appeared on the holographic screen before him.

The words glowed brightly, forming a list of ingredients that sparked both curiosity and uncertainty within him:

[

100x Lizard Blood - Stimulation

100x Snake Blood - Stimulation

1x Elf Blood - Pentagram

1x Demon Kid - Stimulation

1x Beast Race Dragon subtype - Main material

2x B Rank Gifted Potion

System Conclusion:

With this recipe, the host will be guaranteed to get 99% purity from the combined animal blood; the higher the purity level, the closer the blood is to the original dragon, and the blood will be in sync with the host's mind.

The pressure from the beasts will be reduced as they will perceive the host as part of their clan.

]

The weight of the task ahead settled on Desmond's shoulders as he contemplated the significance of the materials and their purpose. He furrowed his brow, attempting to decipher the enigma presented before him.

"Okay, I understand the importance of the blood, but what about these Gifted Potions?" Desmond questioned aloud, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Absorbing the information provided by the System, Desmond began to grasp the underlying reasons behind the necessity of these specific materials. The process of purifying the blood to closely resemble that of the progenitor was no easy feat, requiring intricate knowledge beyond the realms of ordinary understanding. The fact that the System possessed this level of expertise fascinated him.

However, Desmond chose not to delve into the origins or acquisition of such advanced techniques at this moment, leaving those questions for another time.

[System Conclusion: The information is not recorded in the book, but it does mention that after drinking dragon blood, everyone must drink Gifted Potions to truly reach the 1st class.]

Deep in thought, Desmond paused, contemplating his next move. With a flicker of determination in his eyes, he attempted to clap his hands together three times, only to realize that his hands now passed through empty air, landing with a dull thud on his own thigh.

Though the result differed from his original intention, it still yielded the desired outcome. He didn't have to wait long before hurried footsteps approached and a gentle knock echoed through the room.

Granting permission to enter, Desmond welcomed the servant who stood before him. "Yes, young master?" the servant inquired respectfully.

Desmond hesitated, his gaze fixated on the recipe that demanded the blood of an elf and a demon. His voice carried a trace of uncertainty as he addressed the servant. "Erm...

Find me 100 bags of Lizard and Snake blood, and also arrange for some elf and demon servants, please." The servant nodded without prying into the reasons behind the peculiar request, accustomed to their young master's unusual demands.

Yet, deep within, the servant harbored a mixture of confusion and concern. While it was best not to indulge in gossip, curiosity was an ever-persistent companion. In the next moment, such thoughts surfaced, only to be abruptly dismissed as the servant shook her head, determined to maintain professionalism and carry out her duties without wavering.

"But young master," the servant interjects, concern evident in her voice, "acquiring elves is an arduous task. It would involve attending an auction and spending a substantial amount of gold coins."

Desmond's expression contorts into a mixture of frustration and disdain. "Those people are incredibly selfish," he scoffs. Though he possesses wealth, it is not boundless. A year ago, his parents severed communication and halted all financial support, leaving Desmond to fend for himself.

He had to tighten his purse strings, cutting costs on food and shelter. Thankfully, his loyal servants only asked for a decent life, for which he was grateful. Otherwise, he would have struggled to support himself and the numerous individuals under his care.

"It seems I must seek employment. How is the bakery investment faring?" Desmond inquires, hoping for a glimmer of good news.

"It's flourishing, young master. We earned 1000 gold coins at the end of last month," the servant reports with a hint of pride.

"And how much does a relatively young elf cost these days?" Desmond inquires, his tone betraying both curiosity and a touch of exasperation.

The maid hesitates for a moment before answering, "Um...around 2000 to 3000 gold pieces, young master."

Desmond's brows furrow at the market price. "Tch, fetch me the financial report for the previous month," he demands.

The servant promptly retrieves a stack of parchments and hands them to Desmond. "Here you are, young master."

Delving into the numbers before him, Desmond scans the contents while the servant patiently awaits his instructions. After a thorough review, the servant asks, "Is there anything else I can assist you with, young master?"

"Good work. You may leave," Desmond dismisses the maid, acknowledging her efforts.

"Thank you, young master," the maid bows respectfully and exits the room, leaving Desmond alone with his thoughts and the weight of financial considerations.

...

Minutes trickle by, and Desmond finds himself seated in his room, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling above. Thoughts churn in his mind as he contemplates his financial situation. "Every month, I spend 1,000 packaged coins," he muses, his thoughts veering toward his dwindling wealth.

"I initially received 15,000 gold coins from my parents, but after a year, including my investments, I am left with a mere 3,000 coins. This month alone, I need to allocate 1,000 gold coins for supplies, plus another 1,000 coins for the witch and wizard services."

He recalls the expenses he incurred in obtaining the necessary items for his class, costing him anywhere between 100 to 500 gold coins. However, these calculations exclude the cost of elf and demon blood. "This month's total expenditure amounts to 2,500 coins, but I possess a mere 1,500 coins," he laments, his frustration mounting.

"I did not anticipate such substantial expenses," Desmond confesses with a heavy sigh. "And I haven't even acquired elf or demon blood yet. If I wish to garner any profit from my investments, I will barely scrape together a few gold coins."

Desmond rose from his seat, the weight of his financial concerns pressing heavily upon him. He made his way to the window, gazing out at the expanse of the clear blue sky. Thoughts raced through his mind as he contemplated his limited options.

"Aside from investing, my only alternative is to join the guild as a mercenary," he contemplated, a tinge of regret seeping into his thoughts as he remembered his recent altercation with Katrina. "If only I had realized the gravity of the situation sooner."

Rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the mounting headache caused by his monetary troubles, Desmond splashed his face with cool water, a momentary respite from the burden weighing on his mind. He swiftly changed into fresh attire, preparing himself to venture out into the world. "Where are you, mother, father?

I need your financial support to sustain myself," he pondered, a touch of longing lacing his thoughts.

Finances had never been a concern for Desmond, both in this world and his previous life. He was accustomed to a life of abundance, untouched by the worries of monetary constraints. "Business may not be my forte, but investing has always provided me with passive income," he murmured to himself, a flicker of determination rekindling within him as he set forth toward the guild.

...

Meanwhile, in the confines of Grimm's mansion, a stark contrast to Desmond's abode unfolded. The interior exuded an entirely different atmosphere, resembling a castle fit for vampires rather than dreamlike royalty. Dimly lit hallways and living spaces set the stage, with only a handful of servants attending to the needs of the Grimm family.

In a dimly illuminated room, Grimm sat at his desk, engrossed in writing. Abruptly, he ceased his scribbling, glancing up to witness a figure materializing from the shadows. "So, have you found any trace of them?" he inquired, his voice laced with anticipation.

"Greetings, Master Grimm," the figure addressed respectfully. "I regret to inform you that we have yet to locate the individual you seek."

"Tch! Why do you even bother coming here then?" Grimm snapped, his frustration causing him to inadvertently snap the pen in his hand, transforming his once pristine desk into white iron.

The figure took a cautious step backward, swiftly chanting a spell and conjuring a protective barrier. However, their defense crumbled almost instantly as a needle materialized from thin air, piercing the center of the barrier. Only after Grimm had calmed down did the figure cautiously approach him once more.

"The guild has rejected your request. What is our next course of action, Master Grimm?" the figure inquired, its face concealed in darkness. Yet, an unmistakable air of mockery and a wide smile seemed to emanate from it.

Grimm let out a derisive snort. "How is it that you bear the title of 'Best Seeker in the Guild' when you fail to find a single trace of this person?" He seethed with frustration at having to resort to hiring mercenaries from the Raven Soul Guild after his initial request was denied. Six months had elapsed since the mercenaries were employed, yet they had yielded no results.

"You dare ask how?" Grimm jeered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Not only have I had to refuse the king's orders to gather in the beast territory, but I am also burdened with the responsibility of searching for this individual. My relationship with the king continues to deteriorate," he pondered, bitterness lacing his thoughts.