novelraw Chapter 83: We only sell the most expensive items, not the best ones!
Chapter 83: We only sell the most expensive items, not the best ones!
"Keep guessing," Ian said, not in a hurry.
His slime mind was replaying images from his past life: the luxury stores on the first floor of the mall, their windows gleaming, their lights like operating rooms, selling a tattered bag for 100,000. What was the cost? At most 2,000. What was the extra 98,000 for? It was the look the salesperson gave you when you entered, and the glance from passersby as you walked out carrying the bag.
That's called a sense of class.
That's called an identity tax.
He looked down at the pair of stockings in his hand.
Purely handmade, made from original export materials for stunning mature women – truly export quality.
The spider silk all came out of Iris's sexy red lips!
In its previous life, this thing would definitely be a limited edition item from an intangible cultural heritage inheritor. It would have to be placed in a shop next to the Forbidden City, with people queuing up at the door and taking a number. Scalpers could sell a single number for five thousand.
How much? You can take a loose thread home for a few dollars, but it can't be the loose thread from the logo area!
Mirabelle tentatively asked, using what she considered the maximum possible price, "Twenty...no, thirty gold coins?"
Ian continued to shake his head.
Thirty gold coins? That's all?
Ian sneered inwardly.
Ignorant, so incredibly ignorant!
In their past lives, some women would spend tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of dollars on limited-edition clothes.
How much does it cost?
Your imagination really needs improvement!
"Fifty gold coins?" Mirabell gritted her teeth when she saw him shake his head. She thought that price was impossible, but that didn't stop her from making a bold guess.
Ian continued to shake his head.
Don't rush to talk about the price; first, let Mirabelle understand why it can fetch such a high price.
Otherwise, if the half-elf lady in front of me can't even fool myself, how will I be able to fool others in the future?
……
"First question," Ian extended a tentacle and pointed at Mirabelle's long legs clad in white stockings, "Does the human kingdom possess this?"
Mirabelle instinctively pulled her legs back, then shook her head: "No. I've never seen it before."
Ian silently ticked a box in his mind.
Excellent, the scarcity factor has been well-captured.
How did those luxury brands start out in their past lives?
Isn't it just selling the leftover scraps from European nobles to nouveau riche? What do these nouveau riche know about craftsmanship?
They knew I'd never seen this before, and that European nobles used it, so they bought it!
"Second question. How much are those wealthy ladies and aristocratic daughters willing to spend to look good?"
Mirabelle thought for a moment: "They... are quite generous. They're willing to spend tens or even hundreds of gold coins on a nice dress."
Dozens or hundreds?
Very good, very good. It seems that there is a breeding ground for consumerism in this world. At this time, all that is needed is a little bit of otherworldly shock.
Let those noble ladies and wives experience the illusion of upward social mobility.
"The third question," Ian lowered his voice, a hint of seduction in it, "is that if they feel that wearing this makes them fashionable, elegant, and unique, how much would they be willing to spend?"
Mirabelle blinked but didn't say anything.
Her mind was racing, and she started thinking about these things...
Fashionable? Elegant? Unique?
This... isn't this what those wealthy women always talk about?
Today, this countess bought a new dress, and tomorrow that viscountess will have to buy an even more expensive one, not for the sake of looking good, but so that she can outshine the other at the next tea party.
Mirabelle's expression kept changing, as if she was about to have an epiphany.
"Think about these issues, and let's set a price now," Ian said.
Mirabelle sat down again, thinking about the three questions Ian had just asked.
She chewed on the pen, her eyes darting around a few times, and cautiously said, "Five hundred gold coins?"
Ian's tentacles twitched.
"Shut your mouth! I'll give you a number. Get in the car right now! 3, 2, 1!" Ian slammed his hand on the table. "1988 gold coins! One pair! And only twenty pairs available!"
Mirabelle almost threw the notebook away.
"1988 gold coins?! A pair of socks?! Ian, are you crazy?!"
Ian ignored her.
Is 100 gold coins expensive?
expensive.
But do people who can afford 1988 gold coin stockings really care about the gold coins? No, what they care about is the look in the eyes of those who can't afford them. That look contains envy, jealousy, and the resentment of "Why can she afford it while I can't?"
That gaze is worth ten thousand gold coins.
"Let me ask you," Ian began, "what do those ladies care about most when they attend tea parties?"
Mirabelle paused for a moment: "What you care about most... is your appearance? Jewelry? Dresses?"
"Wrong," Ian said. "What I care about most is not being outdone by others."
Mirabelle didn't say anything.
"Think about it," Ian continued. "Two countesses sitting together, one in a plain, pretty dress, the other in a plain, pretty dress but with sparkly stockings on her legs. Where will everyone's eyes fall?"
Mirabelle thought for a moment: "On stockings?"
"Yes. What does the one who isn't wearing stockings do when she gets home?"
"Would...would you like to buy a pair too?"
"What if I can't buy it?"
Mirabelle fell silent. Unable to buy it? Seeing her girlfriends manage to get theirs…wouldn't that drive her crazy with anxiety?
"But..." she tried to argue, "Wouldn't 1988 gold coins be too much..."
"Too what? Too expensive? Listen to me!" Ian interrupted Mirabelle.
Mirabelle immediately sat up straight, listening attentively to the slime's teachings, looking just like a primary school student.
"Do you know how much those noblewomen are willing to spend to outdo each other? They're willing to spend two hundred gold coins on a dress they only wear once, and five hundred gold coins on a hat they only wear on important occasions. One hundred gold coins for a pair of stockings that everyone will stare at—do you think they'd consider that expensive?"
Mirabelle opened her mouth, but couldn't say a word.
Her mind started working again...
It seems...it seems to make sense? Ugh, my head is so itchy! I feel like something's about to grow out!
Those wealthy women, having nothing better to do than engage in comparisons.
If you host a tea party today, I'll have to host an even bigger one tomorrow; if you buy a new necklace today, I'll have to buy an even more expensive one tomorrow. Now, something suddenly appears that you have but I don't, and you'll be inferior to me.
How much are they willing to spend to avoid this situation?
"And," Ian added, "only twenty pairs will be released in the first batch."
"Twenty pairs?" Mirabelle was stunned. "That means only twenty people can buy them?"
"right."
"What about the rest of the people?"
"The rest?" Ian smiled. "The rest will be released in the second batch. But when and how much of the second batch will be released is up to me. The longer they wait, the stronger their desire will become. When the second batch comes out, they'll fight over it even if it's sold for double the price, let alone 1988 gold coins."
"This is called hunger marketing!"
Mirabelle's face flushed, her heart pounding with excitement as she seemed to already picture that scene.
"What are you doing... what are you doing...?"
"What is it?"
"You're trying to squeeze every last drop out of those wealthy ladies!"
Ian's tentacles twitched.
Squeeze dry?
That word sounds awful.
This is clearly exploiting people, or you could call it "periodic value mining of high-net-worth individuals."
We can't just squeeze them dry in one go; we have to make them buy new stockings every year... no! Every quarter, or even every month!
"Then let me ask you," he said, "Did I force them to buy it?"
Mirabelle shook her head.
Did I lie to them?
Shake head.
"Are the stockings I'm selling fake?"
Shake head.
"That settles it. I provide scarce goods, they pay the corresponding price, it's a fair trade, no cheating the young or old. As for them comparing their purchases with others, that's their business, what does it have to do with me?"
Mirabelle stared at him for a while, then suddenly laughed.
"Ian."
"Um?"
"You're a devil."
Devil? Those capitalists in my past life were far more ruthless than me.
Where is this?
At least they're selling genuine products, not those industrial junk items that cost only a few dollars to produce, have a label slapped on, and then dare to sell for thousands.
At least the stockings I provided were indeed beautiful, rare, and worth... well, they might not seem worth the price, but the emotional value is priceless!
This is clearly the mouth of a conscientious entrepreneur! (Tactical lean back.jpg)
……
Ian used magic to draw the Chinese character "正" in the air.
It stretched out its tentacles and tapped the ground; the light spots inside its gelatinous body formed an expression of someone wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
Ian began his formal classes.
"First, I'll teach you about branding. From now on, all Dragon Collar products, especially stockings, will have this symbol added to them."
Mirabelle looked at the tally mark Ian had drawn and asked with some confusion, "What's this?"
"This is what a brand logo is all about! When people see this '正' (zheng, meaning 'authentic' or 'positive'), they know it's a Longling product! The more expensive the stockings, the more of this '正' character you'll see!"
Mirabelle nodded thoughtfully.
"It's not about selling things, it's about selling status. The difference between wearing cotton socks worth two silver coins and wearing silk stockings worth 1988 gold coins isn't in the stockings themselves, but in how others know you're dressed in high-class attire when they see the '正' character."
She looked down at the ordinary traveler's socks on her feet and suddenly felt a little embarrassed to wear them.
Ian caught that look in his eyes.
"Yes, that's the feeling!"
Feelings of inferiority! Feelings of anxiety! Feelings of insecurity from being constantly outdone!
Let me tell you what colors are trending this year; everything you bought last year is outdated. Are you panicking? Yes. Are you going to buy? Yes.
This is called aesthetic hegemony.
This is called the perpetual motion machine of consumerism.
"And one more thing," Ian said, "We can't sell too many at once. We'll only sell the same style once."
Why?
"This is called a limited edition." Ian extended his second tentacle and waved it. "If you release ten pairs at once, those wealthy ladies will scramble to buy them. If you release ten pairs again next time, they'll think they can always get this again. They can just keep waiting. You have to let them know that if they miss this style, they'll never have it again..."
Mirabelle's eyes lit up.
"Anything else?" She pulled out her notebook, the pen already pressed against the paper.
"Yes." Ian extended a third tentacle. "Bundled sales."
What is meant by "bundled sales"?
"For example, if you want to buy white stockings, that's fine. But you have to buy them with a bottle of Fountain of Life. If you want to buy black stockings, that's fine too. But you have to buy them with a small bottle of Sweet Forest's Dreamy Silver Dew. You want to buy stockings alone? Sorry, we don't sell them to you."
Mirabelle was stunned.
Her mind started working again.
Fountain of Life? It's practically impossible to buy it on the market; it's all been made into potions.
The dreamy silver dewdrop of the Sweet Forest? Only a small amount is produced each year.
Those two items are things that even wealthy ladies would have to pull strings and owe favors to get.
Can you buy stockings as a set now?
Wouldn't they go crazy?
"You're not selling stockings..." she murmured, "you're selling qualifications."
Ian nodded, "This young man is teachable."
"Also, tell stories to the stockings."
"Tell a story?"
"Yes. For example—'Legend has it that only the most elegant noble ladies can wear this mysterious fabric, the same one used by the Dragon Queen.' Or…'Each pair of stockings is handmade by the Crystal Spider Master, who has been weaving for eight hundred years, making them one of a kind in the world."
Mirabelle's hands had started to tremble.
Images flashed through her mind—
At a countess's tea party, a group of people gathered around, staring at the stockings on one of the ladies' legs.
"My God, this is the legendary..."
"I heard there are only twenty pairs in the entire mainland!"
"How did you manage to buy it? I asked so many people but couldn't get it..."
Then the lady took a small sip of tea and said casually, "It's nothing, just good luck."
It's installed.
It's completely installed.
……
"Is there more? Is there more?" Mirabelle's hands were trembling with excitement, her heart quivering. The pen tip poked small dents into the notebook.
Ian thought for a moment and decided to add fuel to the fire.
Do you believe in love?
Mirabelle shook her head.
"We linked stockings with love, advertising 'Stockings are eternally beautiful, a pair lasts a lifetime.' We made everyone think that getting married required buying stockings from Dragon Collar!"
Mirabelle stopped writing.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found that her mind couldn't keep up.
Tying it to love? Will everyone buy it?
What kind of sorcery is this?
"You mean...the stockings and..."
"Tie it to love?" Ian laughed. "You can also tie it to 'sexiness.' 'Wear it, and your man will never betray you.' Wouldn't those rich ladies go crazy hearing that? Think about it yourself."
Mirabelle's brain is going through a storm.
Ordinary socks, for keeping warm.
But socks that men can't take their eyes off? Those are weapons! Those are strategic resources! Those wealthy women, who worry every day about their husbands having affairs and think about how to keep their men's hearts, are now being told that a pair of socks can solve the problem?
She couldn't imagine what the consequences would be if this thing were released.
"Ian."
"Um?"
"Have you ever considered quitting slime making and going into business instead?"
Ian was taken aback: "What do you mean?"
"Partner with me," Mirabell said. "It's a shame you're not in business with a brain like that."
Ian's tentacles twitched.
"I'm a civil servant in Dragon Territory now! I'm an official! Why would I go into business for no reason?" Ian emphasized his identity.
"What's wrong with being an official? Isn't it better to be rich?" Mirabelle asked, somewhat puzzled.
Ian didn't respond to that question. What would Mirabelle, a half-elf, know about the social classes?
"Alright then." Mirabelle closed her notebook, stood up, and said, "1988 gold coins per pair, twenty pairs for the first batch, bundled sales, storytelling, brand building. That's settled."
Mirabelle turned to leave, but stopped after taking only two steps.
She turned around and looked at Ian.
"Ian."
"Um?"
"Do you think I'll get robbed on the way back wearing this?"
Ian was taken aback: "Why?"
"Because they're so beautiful." Mirabelle looked down at her legs and said matter-of-factly, "What if some blind bandit takes a fancy to my legs and tries to steal me?"
"Then what do you want to do...?"
Ian hadn't finished speaking.
Mirabelle slowly took off the socks she had been wearing and tossed them into Ian's hand, blinking her eyes.
"Please keep this for me~"