"I'm assuming that this place is not open for visitations?" Mason hesitantly asked. He was currently hoping for the best but preparing his heart for the worse, he didn't want to get his hopes up too high.

The chances that he would be able to visit the farm were abysmally low, and let's not talk about taking photos, photographic evidence of the existence of such a place, even just knowing the location and going there would be risky for the first party.

​​

Still, if Mason didn't try, the chances would be 0.

Miss Lenin gave Mason a bitter smile, but her response was actually rather unexpected.

"It's not impossible."

That sounded eerily close to impossible, but it still gave Mason some level of expectation.

Owen also had question marks written all over his face as he looked at Miss Lenin, which was in full view for Mason to see. It was clear that Owen hadn't expected this either.

"Don't get your hopes up though. It'll depend on your performance," she smiled as she threw the little carrot on a stick in front of the donkey.

"Did Lennie agree?" Owen asked in a whisper.

"Do you think I need his approval?" Miss Lenin lifted an eyebrow at him, to which Owen immediately lifted his hands in resignation.

'But it is his farm after all,' Owen inwardly thought.

'Not that Lennie would be able to do anything if she (Miss Lenin) decided to bring someone over.'

'Well, she has her own measures.'

In the end, Lennie Lenin was still Miss Margo's older brother. The one who inherited his father's great farm and went on to build on it, expanding it to this extent.

Yet it seemed like his sister still had an upper hand to some extent. Not that she would do anything that would prejudice the farm.

"But how do you guys want to make a business out of this? It doesn't seem stable, no matter how great it is." Mason questioned as he pointed towards a graph on the 3ed page with the data on the available resources.

"I see your worries and they are found. However, the goal is not to insert a great number of these products into the market in the first place, that much is simply impossible."

Miss Lenin first acknowledged the other person's views before proposing her own to increase her persuasion to another level.

"To begin with, we will only be using the resources obtained from the animals who die of a natural cause."

"Though at some point, we won't have anything to launch for years, but we will never resort to killing."

"We have a warehouse which we can use from, that will have to be in moderation considering that our stock will only decrease from here until there will only be one or two products produced per year or even less."

Mason nodded in agreement.

If this were to be long-term, every product would have to be marketed and packaged as an exclusive and one-of-a-kind product.

Not to mention extremely limited.

"This part is not in the files, but the final goal after launching the products is to auction them off, of which 50% of the profit will be donated to an organization that will continue to provide for these endangered species in a safe locale."

"This can be used as an advertisement point, which is also why I am considering allowing you to come and take photos of the animals."

It took Mason a second, but he finally realized the meaning behind those words as his eyes widened.

"You mean..."

Miss Lenin nodded.

"That's so misleading," Mason commented with a sigh, still, a weak smile couldn't help but reach for his eyes.

The organization these donations were going to? Well, it was clear that it was going straight back into Miss Lenin's own pockets.

Endangered species? The animals they were raising.

Safe locale? Their farm.

50% of all profits? Her cut? Or at least the minimum of her cut.

Still, she made them sound like some saints who didn't want profits.

"There isn't a lie in my words. All of those funds will be used to continue the development of the farm, a safe place for these poor animals," she admitted, telling him the truth and nothing but the truth.

"Very well then, what's my cut?" Mason asked.

He wasn't too bothered about the money he was going to earn, but he was interested in learning a little more about this businesswoman.

Her offer would tell him a lot about her as well as how sincere she was about this project, it was clear that this was going to be a long-term project after all. They would be interacting quite a bit from now on.

Miss Lenin slowly lifted her hand with 4 fingers.

How was Mason supposed to take this?

40 grand? 4 thousand per photo? 4 million or 400 thousand for a long-term contract? 4 fingers was way too vague, especially since Mason didn't even know where this woman was from, thus not knowing the gesturings from her country.

Seeing as Mason didn't understand, Miss Lenin clarified.

"Four percent."

Mason's eyes instantly widened.

He knew his own worth, which was way beyond the numbers he had been previously estimating, but he also knew how fox-like these business people could be.

And Miss Lenin definitely didn't seem like the naive type, nor did she seem like someone who would be tricked out of her money.

"And the catch?"

Mason warily asked.

This was just way too big of a project. Each piece would go for hundreds of thousands, millions, even tens or hundreds of millions of dollars per piece depending on the piece.

Considering the numbers as well as the long-term aspects 4 percent was no small amount. Not to mention Mason was very willing to work on this without such a remuneration.

"You're full cooperation of course," she said as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth.

That much Mason could understand.

If he were more involved, caring more for the success of the projects, one would assume he would work harder and produce better results.

But this was useless on Mason, he would work just as hard with or without such a remuneration, it was a matter of principles to him.

In this matter, one truly had to know the opponent and themselves well before they entered the battlefield called negotiations.

If Miss Lenin and Owen had known Mason better, they may have been able to make a much more profitable deal.

But that was no longer Mason's concern.

He wasn't particularly greedy, but when a pie fell from the sky, he would eat it. However, after he finished his pie, he wouldn't go on to pray for another one.

"Then let us sign the contract."

Owen was slightly surprised that Mason didn't negotiate, but he hid it well, as for Miss Lenin, even this author can't tell.

Miss Lenin pulled out a contract she had in her bag, that was otherwise empty and Mason signed it immediately after skimming through the papers.

It was filled with the generic information that one would find in the "Terms of Contract", that was there for every contract, but it was also well known that no one would read it before agreeing.

Mason wasn't any different.

He slightly peeked in Miss Lenin's bag, and when he realized that there were no more papers there, he had the thought, 'did she know I wasn't going to negotiate after all? Or was she simply not going to wield no matter what?'

It was slightly puzzling, but Mason didn't think too much about it either.

They kept chatting for a while longer before another figure appeared at their table.

It was Emilin, who had come back from 'going to the bathroom', unscathed.

She sat down on her seat next to Mason and Noah and across from Owen with her head once again down, but when she lifted it up, she was thoroughly surprised to see an acquaintance.

Before Emilin could even open her mouth, Miss Lenin opened her mouth first.

"Emilin dear! Why are you here with these people?"

The businesswoman was officially offline as of this moment and everyone who had been on this table so far was slackjawed to see this sudden change in character, even Owen, who had known Miss Lenin the longest.

"Eating."

Emilin was as concise as ever, but the young businesswoman was already used to it after having gotten acquainted with her a week ago.

"Why didn't you tell me. Oh gosh, it must be fate that I met you here today." She squealed, not at all minding Emilin's short responses.

If Owen didn't know any better, he would have thought that this young lady, Emilin, was in fact his long-time friend's secret sister or daughter...

There was clearly something wrong here.

"Now, now, what should you be calling me?" The young woman next to Owen had her head resting on her hands in a cute manner, awaiting Emilin.

Emilin seemed to think about it for a bit with a small frown and so Miss Lenin gave her a small nudge in the right direction.

"Rainbow Milkshakes! 5 of them." She bargained like the businesswoman that she was.

"Sister Margo~," Emilin greeted in a hesitant voice, but it was clear and loud enough for everyone who was supposed to hear her.

It was both cute, sweet, and sticky. Her voice shot the sharpest arrows into Margo Lenin's heart.

'I can die happy now!' (⁄ ⁄>⁄ω⁄⁄ω⁄

As for everyone else on the sidelines, they had no clue what was going on right now. Why did they have the slight feeling of having been fed dog food?

***

Margo: I don't give out dog food... only cat food for you all! (◔ ω ◔)

***

Current seating chart!

[Mason. Emilin. Noah. #######]

TableTableTableTableTableTable

[Miss Lenin. Owen. Lisa. ######]

##### = characters that have yet to be introduced.