The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases
Chapter 57 - 56: Raking It In

Chapter 57: Chapter 56: Raking It In

The words were already out there, and David certainly couldn’t swallow them back, nor could he just wring the other party’s neck.

He immediately lifted his chin and, feigning an air of ’You must be daydreaming,’ scoffed, "Money? No, are you seriously bringing up money with me?"

"..." Lizrite’s eyes widened in disbelief.

What’s wrong with mentioning money?

She considered herself to have joined the group through ’negotiation’ and, strictly speaking, didn’t count as a slave captured by the other party.

So, wasn’t it perfectly normal for dragons doing business with each other to discuss remuneration?

If he insisted on her admitting this, Lizrite would rather explode on the spot, taking this unreasonable Red Dragon before her to Barto Hell to seek judgment from the Chromatic Dragon Queen.

Before she could speak, she heard David say solemnly, "Come now, let’s do the math. You said you were fourteen this year, didn’t you?"

"Ah..." Lizrite trailed off. Once her age was mentioned, what she had once been proud of immediately became a source of shame, and her voice lost some of its confidence.

"So, you have thirty-six years left before reaching young adulthood, correct?" David pressed.

"Hmm..." Lizrite replied, an inexplicable pang of guilt washing over her, along with a terrible premonition.

"You see, if we calculate based on a young dragon needing to consume 5-10% of its body weight in food each day... When we embraced and chatted about dragon life that day, I roughly estimated your weight. Hmm, 758 pounds (343 kilograms)?"

"..." Lizrite’s eyes grew wider and wider. She had a ’how do you know that?’ look on her face, not unlike the unsettling gaze of a beauty from Blue Star next door who could size someone up and report their exact measurements with a single glance.

"It seems I wasn’t far off. But considering you’ve been roughing it outdoors and were probably starving, I had someone prepare 80 pounds of Dragon Food for you."

As he spoke, David glanced at the Dragon Food bowl, licked so clean it could nearly serve as a mirror, before adding, "However, it seems I still underestimated your appetite. So, I plan to provide you with a starting supply of 100 pounds of Dragon Food, increasing by ten percent monthly.

"Based on our cost of one Dewensen copper coin per pound for mixed Dragon Food, your total consumption over thirty-six years comes to 27,795,600 pounds of Dragon Food. That’s 277,956 Gold Coins.

"As for the costs of your accommodation in the Dragon Nest, plus camp guard duty, and taking care of your daily needs, I’ll consolidate those for you and just call it an even 5,000 pounds of gold.

"Well, first settle the food and lodging costs for these thirty-six years, then we can discuss compensation. Oh, right, have we discussed interest yet...? Let me calculate that..."

"Stop!!! Let me think! Let me consider it!" Lizrite exclaimed, feeling like she was about to go mad.

It was only her first day stationed here! How had she suddenly racked up such a colossal debt to this abominable Red Dragon before her?!

Yet, when she wracked her nearly fried brain to do the calculation, the amount somehow seemed correct.

And honestly, charging one Dewensen copper coin per pound for such delicious, high-quality Dragon Food seemed quite reasonable, didn’t it?!

After all, based on what she’d overheard from the Elf prisoners of war, a pound of beef from the Old Continent cost nearly one silver coin in Dewensen.

But here was the problem: was it really so expensive for dragons just to eat?

From her memories as a Hatchling, her mother—who hadn’t gone mad back then—had amassed a total fortune probably worth about that much.

So... was this why most Chromatic Dragon mothers kicked their children out once they reached the young dragon stage? Simply because they couldn’t afford to raise them?

In just a short moment, the female Red Dragon, successfully led astray by David’s reasoning, felt her entire worldview, along with the continent’s price system, crumble.

Little did she know that David’s calculations, full of wordplay and narrative sleight of hand, were purely improvised to bamboozle this naive dragon.

While the cost of raising a dragon was indeed high, it definitely wasn’t *this* high. Otherwise, the Elven kingdoms in the New Continent that employed dragon riders would have gone bankrupt long ago.

David didn’t know how the Elves managed their costs.

But on his side, the meat by-products needed for Dragon Food could usually be procured by having the young dragons work with the Elven prisoners of war near the camp. If that became insufficient in the future, he could always have the White Dragon Mofei take a fishing net and haul in fish directly from the sea—the freshest, highest-quality protein and fat.

As for staple grains, he planned to directly import corn, wheat, barley, and soybeans from the New Continent as plant protein supplements.

If grain prices ever soared sky-high, and if it really came down to it, he could just make do with all-fish-meat Dragon Food. Alternatively, he could train more Elves to become Druids. With nothing better to do, they could wander the forests, gather berries, and conjure some using the Miracle Plum Technique to make ends meet.

After all, dragons weren’t cats; they could directly absorb plant proteins.

They could even extract trace elements like iron, zinc, copper, manganese, selenium, and iodine directly from soil and ores without the risk of heavy metal poisoning from overconsumption—truly a miracle among carbon-based life forms.

Just for this, David not mixing dirt into the Dragon Food, unlike those unscrupulous cat food merchants from his previous life, was already a sign of his rare remaining conscience.

By this calculation, not only could the camp’s Dragon Food supply become self-sufficient, but it might even be exported to other dragons in exchange for wealth in the future...

Then he’d be making a profit!

The thought made David’s mood soar. He paid no more attention to the female Red Dragon behind him, whose calculations were falling apart. Nor did he heed Mofei, the White Dragon, who was approaching with a bowl of fresh Dragon Food for a pre-work meal. Mofei had unwittingly overheard the terrifying cost of survival, and it felt as if his brainstem had been directly fried. David simply spread his wings and departed.

"Hey! Wait a minute! It’s not the same for me! I, Mofei, am a precious White Dragon personally brought back by Master!"

"Doesn’t that mean I don’t have to spend a copper on Dragon Food? Or rather, that I’m spending Master’s money? Hehe, hehehehe."

As long as he stayed here until young adulthood, he could theoretically earn back the equivalent of an adult dragon’s hoard just from the food he consumed.

The clever Mofei instantly grasped the logic.

This is damn fantastic!

Working for free is such a thrill!

I, Mofei, am making a killing!

Mofei’s nonsensical self-comfort, however, jolted the other dragon from her daze.

"That’s right..." Lizrite muttered to herself. "I just need to find a way to make that Evil Dragon pay for it, right?"

Then she, Lizrite, would be making a killing too!

For some reason, Lizrite’s mind immediately conjured up the Skanis Continent’s most sensational gossip from back then.

It was the rumor that Pafila, the legendary Red Dragon known as the Crimson Calamity, had forcefully taken a poor Silver Dragon.

Perhaps imagining a scene unsuitable for young dragons, Lizrite’s mind nearly short-circuited again. She quickly shook her head, trying to banish the shameful thought.

"No, no! How could I compromise so easily with that Evil Dragon!"

"Stay strong, Lizrite! Work hard! Aspire to be an independent, self-reliant female Red Dragon like Lady Pafila!"

Just as the Red Dragon soared into the sky, heading towards the clouds to cool down her overheating ’CPU,’

the only one left in the entire camp was the Brass Dragon, trussed up in his cage.

"Mmmph! Mmmmph!"

To prevent him from disturbing the camp’s master, the Red Dragon David, and in accordance with David’s will, every part of him that could make a sound was gagged, except when eating. They had even bound him with iron chains in a way that resembled an Elven noblewoman’s corset to prevent him from ventriloquizing.

As a result, every time he tried to speak, he’d gasp for air. And if he tried again, he’d just end up farting.

It was truly about to drive him mad.

But could such a minor difficulty truly daunt him, a Brass Dragon?

He immediately used his thoughts as his pen, the Dragon legacy as his diary.

He meticulously recorded all the absurdities he had witnessed that day—the deceitful nature of the Dragon Food, the Red Dragon’s utter shamelessness—into a document titled ’Observations of the Red Dragon Camp.’

The mere thought of publishing this bardic masterpiece, destined to shock the entire dragon world and bring him fame and fortune, made him feel this trip hadn’t been in vain at all.

He, Fulatimir the Brass Dragon, was going to make a killing!