"Busy! She's extremely busy!"
Aventurine snapped back without a moment's hesitation.
Sylvester's previous words had left quite a shadow on his mind.
Fixing Sylvester with a sharp look, he asked, "Why do you want to know that?"
"Ah, what a pity. I happen to be short of a secretary here."
Seeing Sylvester's regretful expression, Aventurine was speechless.
With your little shop's business, what would you even do with a secretary? Sure, the daily income wasn't small, but it was always a neat one million per trash can, and you served at most ten customers a day. With that much leisure, what on earth would you need a secretary for? To help you with what, exactly?
Leaning back in his chair, Sylvester said leisurely, "This way, I wouldn't have to count the credits for twenty trash cans myself. After all, that's a huge sum. Even the most trustworthy payment platforms don't have such a high limit, right? Counting it all bit by bit is such a waste of time and effort."
So, you really intend to sell to the company with this kind of pricing?!
And you even want company staff to help you keep the books? What a dreamer!
Aventurine wiped his forehead, realizing that dealing with someone like this wasn't a test of intellect at all—it was a test of luck.
He had started out negotiating in his own strongest field, yet after just a few exchanges, Sylvester had twisted the conversation into a dead end, leaving no way forward.
And what was worse—this mess was still within his own supposed area of expertise.
Damn it, what kind of feral conversational tactics are these?!
Aventurine felt more rattled than ever before. He had survived the destruction of his homeworld and believed nothing in existence could make him lose his composure. He wasn't even afraid of death.
But speaking with Sylvester caused him no actual harm, not even a loss of credits—yet it left him irrationally furious.
Even the female Masked Fool he had met in Penacony had only been sarcastic and snide. Her words were harsh, but they at least contributed in some way to his work.
Sylvester's words, though, only caused frustration.
"Oh, Mr. Aventurine, don't be so discouraged. It's me who can't find a secretary, not you. Oh, by the way, are we signing this contract or not?"
Wanting not to delay Aventurine's work—lest it affect the performance of the Ten Stonehearts and thereby hinder Aventurine's career prospects—Sylvester asked with exaggerated kindness.
Hearing this, Aventurine's fury spiked.
Sign? Sign what?!
If I signed, tomorrow you'd just take over as chairman of the Interastral Peace Corporation, and I'd be working under you!
"The company is low on funds. We can't afford such a grand deal with Boss Sylvester. Forgive us for making a fool of ourselves."
Aventurine forced the words out, then rubbed his face, trying to recover his composure.
Don't get angry. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. He's clearly doing this on purpose, deliberately trying to throw you off balance.
Sylvester, satisfied at the sight of Aventurine's attempt to calm himself, raised a teacup and took a sip.
Sweet!
Compared to wasting energy on a shouting match with the Interastral Peace Corporation, muddying the waters was truly the way of kings.
As the great strategist once said: "Through repeated feints, confuse the enemy; Seize the moment, and you can strike with a check, and capture the chariot." (T/N: in Chinese Chess, the Chariot = King)
Truly, the words of a great man never deceive.
After such a barrage, Aventurine no longer had the stamina to continue a marathon negotiation.
Sylvester beamed. "Mr. Aventurine, if there's nothing else, I'll have to attend to other customers."
"Hm?" Aventurine raised his head at that.
Other business?
That's right—he could still open a trash can.
Even if the long-term contract was impossible, he could still open trash cans.
That Astral Express lady had gained the gaze of an Aeon, while the Xianzhou had obtained time-bending Curios and the unparalleled Four Swords of Slaying Immortals.
And with his own luck, there was no way he would come away empty-handed.
On this point alone, Aventurine had absolute confidence. If there was only one person in the world who could draw the rarest Curio, it would be him.
His spirits rose once again.
But before opening, he had a question. "Mr. Sylvester, could you tell me what kind of Curios are inside your trash cans?"
Rather than flailing blindly, Aventurine preferred to target something specific. After all, who could say luck had nothing to do with belief?
Sylvester shook his head. "As plentiful as fish crossing a river, as vast as the boundless sea. There are things greater than what the Aeons notice, and things lesser too. What you obtain depends entirely on your luck."
Then, smiling, he added, "Mystery is the most important part of opening a trash can. Don't you agree?"
Aventurine nodded thoughtfully. "This format does add quite a bit of charm."
He walked to the shelves and picked out one trash can. His intuition told him this one carried the highest value.
"Then I'll start with this one." He unlatched the clasp and lifted the lid.
A blue glow burst out, and a palm-sized bubble fell into his hands.
Adjusting his sunglasses, Aventurine's lips curved into a smile.
He already knew. The trash cans were divided into four grades: green, blue, purple, and gold. The quality of Curios increased in that order. Most people could only pull from the green trash cans.
But he had drawn blue on his very first try—already leagues above the majority.
"Boss, what's this one?"
Sylvester accepted the resilient bubble, quietly marveling at the man's absurd luck. That trash can had been surrounded by green Curios, yet Aventurine had plucked the one blue among them.
[Memory Bubble of a Medical Doctor: Contains the complete professional knowledge of a medical doctor who graduated from a top university. Press it to your forehead and absorb, and you will acquire all their medical expertise.]
Well, they say persuading someone to study medicine is enough to bring lightning down on your head. But if a first-year med student got this, they'd probably accept a lightning strike or two for it… maybe. Sylvester mused.
He said aloud, "It's a [Memory Bubble of a Medical Doctor]. Stick it to your forehead, and you'll instantly acquire the complete knowledge of a medical doctor."
"Oooh~ hoo~" Aventurine whistled softly. "Boss, here's the payment for the first one."
It wasn't the rarest treasure, but it was still incredibly valuable. Imagine giving this to a ten-year-old child—armed with a doctor's knowledge from the start. What kind of achievements would they reach in adulthood?
The potential was limitless. It could very well produce a prodigy.
The sense of control returned—he was back in his element.
Aventurine turned, ready to pick out another trash can.
Sylvester, seeing him so pleased, was also happy—but for a completely different reason.
Taking Aventurine's phone, Sylvester casually swiped it. The payment for the one-hundredth trash can went through.
[Ding. Congratulations, Host. You have completed the "Sell a Total of 100 Trash Cans" Challenge. A Premium Trash Can has been delivered to your [Inventory]. Please check your rewards.]
[Ding. Unlocking privileged access for the host. All current Trash Can Curios have been reset. Executing immediately.]
As the electronic voice faded, Sylvester activated his clairvoyance.
Sure enough, the colors of all the trash cans had changed.
Eh? What's with that black trash can?
In the middle of the room, one trash can glowed black. Sylvester stared at it, puzzled.
He could feel it didn't contain some evil, terrifying force.
Instead, it carried a deep, resentful grudge—a heavy aura of misfortune.
Something like this exists? Out of the previous hundred, not a single black can showed up. Even negative Curios like the Black Forest Cuckoo Clock had come from green cans. This one was rarer than gold.
It was unimaginable what kind of luck it would take to open such a thing.
Hm? Whose hand is that?
Shutting off clairvoyance, Sylvester's eye twitched.
Heavens above, this time I really wasn't trying to mess with anyone.
Aventurine gazed at the black trash can, his chest burning with excitement like never before.
Yes—this was the one. The most heart-pounding trash can of them all! Surely it held an undeniable rare Curio!
Brimming with confidence, he yanked it open and muttered under his breath, "The die is cast. This child of Sigonia offers everything to the Amber Lord!"
Pffft!
A cloud of black smoke, full of resentful wails and bitter memories, smacked Aventurine square in the face.
He blinked, dazed. "W-what the hell?!"
Sylvester lowered his head, hand over his mouth to stifle laughter.
Oh, Amber Lord! Do you really want this one?