Caesar ignored the sounds in his head. This was only a symptom of his deepening psychosis, which was both a gift and a curse.
Why a gift? See, Caesar himself knew how much of a genius he is. So brilliant, in fact, that his brain could not handle it and manifests hidden knowledge into tangible feelings like sounds and visions.
This was the reason why he could concoct a pure powder like Joy. It suddenly came to him one day in the form of a wall of text. It said:
[Formula for Joy unlocked]
[5 grams of petrified grass]
[0.5 liters of water]
[3 grams of Torfune's chitin]
[12 ounces of tortuga slime]
[…]
[…]
[Method to concoct]
[Mix 5 grams of petrified grass and 12 ounces of tortuga slime. Wait 35 seconds until mixing it with 0.5 liters of water. Then…]
He already knew the basic ingredients for Joy. Of course he would know, he was only a few streets away from a Joy factory. But he didn't know the specifics nor the right way to combine it—there were too many guards.
He tried many times to decipher it himself, but to no avail. This was where his brain came in. His brain was so smart that it subconsciously figured out the right chemistry, mass, and volume needed to concoct the perfect Joy.
He first researched his own brain condition and figured out that he had schizophrenia. This was a brain illness that would make the victim hear sounds or see visions that were not there in the real world.
Who cares, right? It gave him the recipe for Joy, which he could now use to make and sell his own drugs. This would bring him fortune and power he could only dream of. But this is where the curse comes into play.
Here, people with schizophrenia barely live past their thirties. Most of them die by the age of 25, and by then, their psychosis would be deep enough to not even recognize their own face.
Caesar was barely 18, and now finding out he only had 5 years left to live was nothing short of a curse. How especially cruel fate was giving him a gift like schizophrenia but with a death sentence.
So, with death's door coming at him in merely a few years, Caesar decided to risk it all and go into the drug business.
With his pure Joy, he could create a business so successful that he'll buy the whole world. He'll make as much money as he can in these few years, and spend everything on anything he can buy.
What's there to stop him? Drug dealers? Priests? Who cares? Death will come for him anyway, and he'll welcome death on a bed made of coins.
"AHHH!!!!" Berk shouted, interrupting Caesar from talking to himself.
Berk took one big gulp of air and kept it in his lungs, then slowly breathed it out with his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
"Hot damn! Woo! What is this?!" he asked with his breaths heavy.
"Joy."
Berk shook his head. "No. This, this is something else. Normal Joy wouldn't do this, and trust me, I have tasted a lot of it."
Caesar just smiled at him, but Berk kept his eyes on the red powder called Joy.
"It doesn't have any dirt. There's no coarseness. It doesn't smell like shit. Hell, it even looks like red snow. Where the hell did you get this?" Berk asked while taking another sample of Joy.
Before Caesar could even answer, Berk felt another burst of ecstasy and praised the substance.
"I immediately feel high! This is impossible. I usually have to wait for five minutes before it kicks in!"
Everything Berk said was true. The reason why Caesar's Joy was so different from the other manufactured Joy was because of its purity.
Most Joy manufacturers have not figured out a way to filter the excess dirt and trash away from the Joy, and even if they did, the Joy they would get would be extremely small in quantity. It wouldn't be economical.
For example, if manufacturers created 10 kilograms of Joy, about 9 kilograms of that was impurities while only 1 kilogram was pure Joy. In short, it was only 10% pure.
That's why even if manufacturers can get rid of the impurities, they would rather sell it with impurities so they could get more money out of their customers.
No one complained because no one knew that the Joy they're consuming was 90% shit. They didn't know because no one sells pure Joy, that was until Caesar came along.
Caesar can manufacture 10 kilograms of Joy, and those 10 kilograms will be pure Joy. It's 100% pure Joy at the same cost. Not only that, this Joy is more pleasing to the eye and it smells good too. It was the perfect product.
That's why Caesar was confident about his business plan. Once people started to consume his product, they could never go back to buying those impure Joy that they were selling for an overpriced tag.
If people were willing to pay astronomical amounts of money for that trash Joy, then imagine how much he could sell his product.
The evidence to that was right in front of Caesar. Berk's eyes couldn't be taken away from the Joy.
"H-how much? I'll buy 1, No 2, no give me everything!" Berk said with his mouth almost salivating. He was practically giving Caesar his whole wallet.
Caesar, knowing Berk took the bait, withdrew his Joy away from Berk's sight. With the marketing done, it was now the time for selling.
"With the current market, I'll sell it to you for 1000 Parou per 1 gram. I have 10 grams on me right now you can buy."
1000 Parou per 1 gram was the standard market rate for Joy. But that was for the impure Joy. What Caesar was selling was 100% pure Joy that was the first and only pure Joy in the world.
If Berk bought it at that rate, it would be a tremendous bargain and a huge loss for Caesar. But Caesar knew that.
"I'm giving you a discount because I know we can work together. Give a few of those samples out and spread it wide. Once everyone knows it, we can sell it for 5000 Parou per gram or even 10,000 Parou per gram."
If there was one thing that Berk loves more than Joy, it was money. As soon as he saw the potential money-making scheme, his eyes showed a bit of clarity and a whole lot of greed.
Caesar could practically see the coins forming in Berk's eyes. A slimy guy like this would never pass up an opportunity like this, nor would he want to share it.
Caesar knew that he couldn't trust this guy, but he proposed this idea because he could use Berk's connection in the drug world.
With Berk's marketing, his pure Joy can be spread around faster than if Caesar went door to door to every addict on the street.
Doing this strategy came with its risks, but Caesar accounted for all of them. He didn't care about the risks, only the potential rewards.
"What do you say? I give you the Joy every week, you give me 70% percent of the profit while you keep the other 30%," Caesar said while taking out a bag of Joy from his pocket and giving it to Berk.
Berk scoffed at the distribution of profits. "60-40. I get 60," he bargained while reaching out for the bag of Joy.
Caesar shook his head and retracted his Joy away just before Berk could get his hands on it. "That's unfair. I buy all the ingredients, and I have the recipe. 65% for me, 40% for you."
"How naive. Do you even know the dangers of dealing drugs? I have to risk my life for every gram of Joy I sell. The police has a bounty on my head! I'll have 70 of the profits!"
Bullshit, Caesar thought. Guys like Berk have the police on their payroll and would probably hide behind his prostitute at the sight of any danger.
Caesar looked at Berk dead in the eyes and retracted his bag of Joy. "If you don't want to do business, then so be it. Your loss."
As soon as Berk saw the metaphorical bag of money slipping away from him, he almost got on his knees and begged. "Okay, okay, wait! Fine, 50-50!"
Caesar nodded his head and agreed. "Half it is then. Hope for a fruitful partnership," he said with a smile on his face.
Berk felt frustrated that he couldn't get away with scamming a teenager, but he eventually took Caesar's hands and they shook their hands in agreement.
Caesar gave Berk the bag of Joy, and Berk examined it carefully with his eyes. Then, he looked at the defenseless Caesar with a smile on his face.