Chapter 1293: Chapter 1293

Annan, like a spirit form trailing behind, followed Amabelle, the steward, into this massive building.

In this form, Annan could pass through any physical matter at will.

However, Annan was unable to use his transcendent perception to scan the city. After all, perception wasn’t a one-way ability... If one’s perception was sufficiently strong, they could also sense if someone else was perceiving them.

This would effectively interact with the world and cause an impact. If that happened, Annan would be forcibly ejected from this state.

For that reason, Annan needed someone to guide him and navigate where he should go.

Annan wasn’t looking at the world through his own eyes either.

To be precise, Annan’s form now functioned as an omnidirectional camera that continuously gathered information from his surroundings—far beyond the scope of mere "visual" perception.

As he followed the centaur steward named "Amabelle," he noticed that even as night had fallen, employees were still passing through the company’s spacious hallways.

Each employee who encountered Amabelle paused respectfully to greet her. Amabelle, in turn, nodded gracefully in acknowledgment, though her hooves continued their rhythmic clip-clop stride without slowing.

Before long, she arrived at her destination.

It was a highly professional-looking pharmaceutical laboratory.

Before entering, Amabelle performed a thorough sanitization and curse purification. She donned a pristine lab coat—which she draped directly over the humanoid half of her body—before stepping inside.

"Steward Amabelle," a male researcher quickly approached upon seeing the centaur steward, "Is there something you need from our side?"

"I heard... you clocked out rather early today," he remarked.

"Yes. After my shift, I had a discussion with Bishop Desmond regarding the proposed pricing for our ’Sage-3.’"

Amabelle responded solemnly, "The Silver Baron Church believes that our pricing remains excessively high."

"...You mean Sage-3?"

The male researcher’s expression turned slightly peculiar. "But the ’Philosopher’s Stone Type-3 Red Potion’ isn’t a regular medication. It’s specifically developed to treat newborns with Element Potential Deficiency Syndrome."

As he spoke, he grabbed a stack of documents from nearby.

He quickly flipped through them and stopped at a page based on memory, pointing it out to Amabelle: "According to last year’s census results from Winter Church, the incidence rate for babies with Element Potential Deficiency Syndrome is only three in one hundred thousand.

"The total population of the Empire is under two hundred million, and according to last year’s statistics, there are four million newborns annually. This means the annual demand for the medication would only cover 120 individuals.

"Element Potential Deficiency Syndrome doesn’t require lifelong medication. Typically, administering treatment before adulthood cures the condition within 5 to 15 years. One child uses four vials per month, so annual production volume wouldn’t exceed 60,000 vials.

"Manufacturing a production line for this quantity would undoubtedly result in losses. Although Sage-3 improves storage capability compared to Sage-1 and Sage-2, it can only maintain efficacy for up to six months in a temperature-controlled storage unit.

"To lower production costs, we’re relying on interns from Heath Tower of Black to conduct manual pharmaceutical processing. To prevent defective products, we also require manual sorting, a step that causes approximately a 30% attrition rate from defective or semi-defective batches.

"Setting the price at 680 per vial is actually extremely reasonable. Excluding transportation and storage costs, the manufacturing cost alone for each vial approaches 400... Our profit margins are already minimal."

"Then further lower the costs."

Amabelle declared firmly, "Don’t forget the founding maxim of Hornheim Pharmaceuticals—"

"’I will dedicate my life to ensuring that the masses can afford, access, and appreciate transformative products.’"

Amabelle and the male researcher recited in unison.

He nodded with a serious expression. "Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten my initial aspirations."

"The reason I chose to work here was because of that creed."

He hesitated briefly and added softly, "You might not know this... but when I was very young and my parents were away, I suffered from a grease burn on my face."

"Do you know the cooking show ’1001 Home Recipes’? That year I was only seven. Hoping to replicate the dishes taught by the chefs on the program, I decided to try cooking something simple at home..."

The male researcher spoke softly, "The dish that day was deep-fried pork rolls. I loved that dish—it was truly simple. Brimming with confidence, I tried making it... but I was too short and accidentally knocked over the oil pot.

"Scalding oil splashed onto my face. The pain instantly forced me to the ground, where I struck the back of my head and lost consciousness—when I woke again, I was already in a hospital.

"Though my life was saved, my face was mummified in bandages... Because treatment wasn’t immediate, healing with Divine Arts required an exorbitant price to hire a senior clergy member. They would need to cut away the necrotic skin on my face before performing the healing spell. Even if treated by a bishop, a faint circular scar would remain—a cardinal from Silver Baron would need to intervene to prevent scarring entirely.

"I belonged to a very ordinary family. My father was an architect specializing in Morphology studies, and my mother was an accountant trained in the School of Prophets. While day-to-day expenses were manageable, the financial burden of summoning a cardinal for treatment was beyond reach.

"I knew I’d caused trouble for my family. I didn’t want to impose the financial strain yet couldn’t bear the thought of scarring—which was both humiliatingly visible and absurdly costly for us. The key issue was that such high-level treatment wasn’t eligible for Empire insurance reimbursement.

"Fortunately, a Priest comforted me, saying not to worry... Their institution offered affordable medication tailored for treating early-stage burn and scald scars."

"Because it was so affordable, my family doubted its effectiveness. After repeated assurances from the Priest, we tentatively agreed to try it.

"Within less than a week... the magic potion completely healed my face. Its price was so low that Empire insurance covered the entire cost. Even when factoring in hospitalization expenses, it only cost me about three months’ worth of pocket money."

"At that time, I wondered why such an effective medication could be so inexpensive. Later, I learned about the company’s philosophy... They strive to ensure that ordinary people needing medication can access it promptly without worrying about affordability."

The male researcher said seriously, "Divine Arts cannot solve everything. Some rare, obscure diseases are difficult to treat with spells; others have prohibitively high treatment costs.

"At such moments, affordable and accessible medication can sometimes alter someone’s fate entirely. That’s the reason I decided to join our company."

"I just think... if we allocate too much research capacity toward reducing costs for such a niche market, it could waste critical scientific manpower. Given our finite researchers, diverting some toward this task would inevitably slow progress for other medicines.

"After all, the market demand for this medication is tiny. How much profit could there even be? No matter how low the cost goes, manual processing will remain unprofitable. Rather than forcing production further, wouldn’t it be better for the Empire to provide insurance coverage for them instead?"

"...You make a valid point."

Amabelle considered briefly and then nodded decisively, "I’ll go speak with the Empire’s Medical Assistance Committee tomorrow. I’ll advocate for full subsidies for these patients."

"You could visit them tomorrow afternoon," the male researcher nodded, adding warmly, "Once I finish recording this phase’s data, I’ll help compile relevant materials for you. By 11 a.m. tomorrow, you can come to collect it—this will certainly strengthen your case for securing full reimbursements for the children."

At this, the two exchanged a heartfelt smile.

Annan hovered above them, his gaze soft and contemplative as he watched it all unfold.

——A fitting legacy—you haven’t brought shame to your mentor and founding predecessors.