I Became A Black Merchant In Another World-Chapter 371: Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes, Corn, New World (7)

If dishes made from potatoes and sweet potatoes were delicious, would they still be treated as food solely for the poor?

In the past, these crops were regarded as famine food because they tasted absolutely awful. People only ate them to avoid starving to death.

“No matter how common a food becomes, if it’s delicious, it won’t be looked down upon, Sebastian. Think about it—His Majesty eats French fries by the plate at least once every three days. And for dessert? He has cake spread with peanut butter.”

“I have heard those rumors myself.”

“If the emperor himself adores potato-based dishes, do you really think potatoes will become the symbol of poverty? Especially since they taste good.”

“If they were bland, then yes, they would be considered peasant food. But if they are delicious, they won’t be seen as low-class fare.”

“Exactly. If they tasted terrible, they would become a symbol of the lowest-class serfs and beggars.”

Until World War II, lobster was seen as a food unfit even for beggars in the United States.

When lobsters washed ashore, they were either used as fertilizer or fed to prisoners.

And the reason?

They tasted awful.

Then, during World War II, a new cooking method was discovered that made lobster palatable—and now, it’s one of the most luxurious foods in the world.

Had potatoes and sweet potatoes been both common and tasteless, they would have suffered the same fate.

Which is exactly why I went out of my way to popularize delicious cooking methods for them.

R𝑒ad lat𝒆st chapt𝒆rs at free𝑤ebnovel.com Only.

“So right now, our priority is to make potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, and peanuts appear valuable. We need to present them as high-end ingredients first—then reveal that they are, in fact, extremely easy to cultivate. Do you understand the key point here?”

“We must not tell any outright lies.”

If you’re struggling to grasp what that means, think about this:

"If you invest in this stock, you could make a fortune!"

Anyone who hears that and blindly invests is simply a fool. The person who pitched the investment may be called unscrupulous, but they certainly won’t be legally labeled a fraud.

“The Rothschild family, under His Majesty’s command, is cultivating potatoes and other crops as part of an initiative to improve the standard of living for serfs and strengthen the empire’s economy. That is why they are our flagship products.”

“So all we need to do is spread the rumor that they are flagship products.”

“Exactly. And as for the farmland where these crops are grown—post extreme security around it.”

No one buys a safe to store worthless junk.

People buy safes to protect gold, silver, jewelry, or crucial contracts.

So when people see elite soldiers guarding a field with unwavering vigilance, they’ll naturally assume,

"That must be something incredibly valuable!"

The great Potato King, Frederick, once deployed his elite Giant Regiment to guard his potato fields by day—then deliberately left the fields unguarded at night.

Our dear king, who may not have had the Marine Corps but certainly had their spirit, wanted his serfs and citizens to steal the potatoes for themselves.

A potato eaten fresh from a farm theft, dripping with the sweat of hard labor, was bound to taste infinitely better than one simply handed out.

And that’s how he got his people to embrace potatoes.

“Ensure maximum security around the fields. If anyone attempts to steal, capture them. If capturing them is too difficult, kill them. Those captured will be charged with attempting to steal from House Rothschild.”

If I’m going to make money off of this, I can’t afford to make the mistake of deliberately leaving the fields unguarded and allowing theft.

That would shatter both our trading company’s and our family’s credibility.

I simply needed to make it look expensive.

“Begin cultivation immediately. Spread grand rumors about it across the entire empire.”

“Viscount Rothschild, please, I beg you—sell me some potatoes, sweet potatoes, peanuts, and corn! It would greatly benefit my territory’s development.”

By next year’s harvest, nearly 99% of the bubble surrounding these New World crops would collapse.

Just imagining selling them at exorbitant prices made my heart race.

Right now, since they weren’t being grown locally, they naturally commanded a high price.

But even in the Toscana Empire, my selling price was...

At least 100 times the price I paid when acquiring them via trade.

At this rate, I needed to start shipping entire cargo holds filled with nothing but potatoes and sweet potatoes.

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

If we were going to distribute them across the empire, we would need vast amounts of seed stock anyway—and if I wanted to make a killing in a single stroke, this was my golden opportunity.

“Didn’t I already tell you? We barely have enough supply ourselves. His Majesty has been buying up vast quantities of potatoes and sweet potatoes, and on top of that, the other nobles are hounding us for shipments.”

“I understand that! Name your price—I will pay anything.”

“How can I sell what I don’t have? Even though I’ve been called a ‘merchant thug’ at balls and banquets, I have never once broken my word. If a shipment was even a day late due to bandits, I compensated buyers with 50% of the invoice price. If the goods were completely lost, I paid 200% of the value. But if I were to accept an order for a product that doesn’t exist yet, I’d have to start by paying 50% compensation upfront.”

“Please, I’m begging you—find a way.”

“Hah, this is putting me in a very difficult position.”

I was having trouble controlling my expression—because I was simply too happy.

Another foolish noble was about to hand me a pouch of gold in exchange for a single sack of potatoes.

Just don’t come crying to me later.

It’s not like I held a sword to your throat and forced you to buy them. I didn’t lie or deceive you.

All I did was post elite guards around my fields and turn these crops into the hottest culinary trend among the aristocracy.

If you get fooled, that’s entirely your own fault.

Then, as now, in investment, if a company runs off with investors’ money, the investors take the blame.

Consider this a valuable life lesson.

I sighed, pressing a hand to my forehead.

“50 kilograms of potatoes, 50 kilograms of sweet potatoes, 50 kilograms of corn, and 50 kilograms of peanuts. That’s the absolute limit. Payment must be made in gold within one month.”

The baron before me actually bowed in gratitude.

“Thank you! Thank you!”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

If anything, you should be cursing your own stupidity.

Once he left, I turned to the window, my thoughts shifting to Baron Florin.

How will that man navigate this crisis?

Will his luck run out here, or will he survive?

At the height of the New World crop investment frenzy, Baron Florin began receiving proposals from /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ all directions.

“This is the moment for a man with a beast’s heart like yours to step forward.”

Baron Florin shook his head.

“I’ve already pledged 5% of my land as collateral for the new city development project under Viscount Rothschild. Where do you expect me to borrow more money from?”

“...That’s true.”

“I’m not investing. If I had that kind of money to spare, I’d rather take on another mistress.”

Baron Florin had come to a realization while observing Fabio.

Fabio wasn’t the only one who had the privilege of a free market.

But true profits came from investments made before an industry became profitable.

Once everyone was jumping into the same business, it was bound to fail.

“These idiots—does anyone seriously think they’ll profit from doing what everyone else is doing?”

Fabio had already predicted a 99% price drop for potatoes.

And Baron Florin?

He was also certain that prices would plummet like a rock.

“Investment isn’t something you discuss with others. Think about it—if it succeeds, sure, we both benefit. But if I make the wrong move, what then? Will we stop being friends?”

“No, of course not.”

“Still, I’ll give you one piece of advice just this once.”

The nobleman in front of him had once served in the same battalion as Baron Florin.

They had suffered under the same company commander together.

“Don’t invest in an industry where every idiot is piling in. That’s how you get yourself killed. Think—has Viscount Rothschild ever invested in a business that everyone was rushing into?”

“...No, he hasn’t.”

“Then put that money into a poultry farm instead. And for God’s sake, keep your hands off investments!”

“Wait a minute—you sold off part of your land for an investment! Why the hell can you invest, but I can’t?”

Baron Florin let out a chuckle.

Then, using the same tone they had once used while being drilled into the ground by their company commander, he retorted,

“If you don’t like it, become successful like me. You’re upset, but you can’t argue with me, can you?”

“Hah, fine! I’ll back out of this investment.”

“There will come a day when you’ll be crying with gratitude that I told you this. And don’t tell your wife—or your mistress—that I gave you this advice.”

“You know I keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s the only reason I told you.”

Not long after, Baron Florin’s friend showed up at his estate, carrying two bottles of his finest wine.

Why?

Because Baron Florin had predicted the market collapse perfectly.

Using all his spare funds, he had scooped up prime real estate at dirt-cheap prices, just as the New World crop bubble spectacularly burst.