"How is it, my lord?" The person in charge couldn't help but inquire cautiously after seeing that the Lord didn't react for a while.

"Uh... the fruity aroma is quite strong," Lance smacked his lips.

To say Lance understood wine would be giving him too much credit. He never really liked it in his past life or this one and hadn't drunk much of it. Even if you placed world-famous wines in front of him, he couldn't tell them apart. They weren't as tasty as soft drinks.

On the other hand, ask him to distinguish between two cans of Fatty's water—whether one is Coke and another is Pepsi—that would be easy.

Lance knew exactly who this wine was aimed at: wealthy young ladies, noblewomen, and other affluent women.

As for taste and flavor, they wouldn't care. All they needed was for this wine to have a prestigious name.

Like beauty enhancement, a symbol of status, or becoming more attractive to men after drinking it...

Women weren't drinking wine; they were drinking stories.

As long as the story is told well, they will justify it themselves, and whoever says it doesn't taste good will be despised by them.

It's like refined salt marketed under various banners to fleece the rich and noble, while the Ascension Potion targets men. This fruit wine is designed to reel in women.

The most important thing in making a product isn't the product itself but identifying the target audience and telling a good story. This was a simple principle Lance learned in his past life.

Sometimes it's magical how rarely people pay attention to the product itself or genuinely care about their needs. They're manipulated by marketing and can't escape.

Of course, this only happens to those who have their material needs met. Ordinary people who can't even afford to eat won't play these games with you.

But this was Lance's opportunity. Hamlet, this big pit, was destined to require external resources to sustain itself.

The wealthy were his targets.

"What's the name of this wine?"

"It doesn't have one yet." The person in charge, understanding the situation quickly, agreed, "This wine was invented by you, my lord. You should name it."

Lance raised his glass towards the sunlight and spontaneously said, "Maiden's Dream."

"What a great name, my lord!" The person in charge didn't know whether it was truly great, but since the Lord said it, it must be right.

Even though this was just the wine factory manager's instinctive reaction to please the nobility, Lance didn't like being flattered because it meant someone was up to something.

"Alright, I'll take a batch for sampling. The research on the other wines must continue,"

Lance interrupted him with the request that aligned with the current research direction of the winery. Only one wine couldn't support the entire brand he envisioned. The research and development of beer, fruit wine, distilled spirits, etc., would become the foundation of an industry for Hamlet in the future.

He didn't plan to compete with those aristocratic wineries specializing in wine for hundreds of years; it wasn't worth it.

One carton of twelve bottles was an anti-human base-12 setup; Lance simply kicked it into the trash because Hamlet standardizes everything in base-10, meaning ten bottles per box.

Lance took one box of beer, two boxes of fruit wine, but only one bottle of white wine. This stuff was distilled with the head and tail removed, around fifty degrees, and not something ordinary people could handle drinking.

The person in charge registered the varieties and quantities Lance took, and all this had to be reported later.

Even though all of Hamlet was his, rules are rules. Everything had to be traceable.

Lance rarely showed up in person, and everything was moved outside before being stored in the Exhibition Room.

If someone unfamiliar, like Margaret, saw a Lord handling things himself, their eyes would surely pop out.

It's one thing to hear about it, but another to see it with your own eyes.

On the contrary, the winery workers didn't even realize that was the Lord. As long as it didn't disrupt normal work, that was what inspection should be like. Otherwise, it would just be acting. Who was it for?

After leaving the winery, Lance didn't go back to work but turned to visit Grendel. In front of her house, flowers were blooming, and a figure moved among them.

When Lance walked in, Grendel turned and glanced at him, playfully teasing, "Finally remembered me after being busy, huh?"

"No, you're always on my mind." Lance seized the moment to hug her, his nose close, catching a unique fragrance, "Your scent outshines this entire garden of flowers~"

"Stop messing around. I'm busy," Grendel helplessly replied, her hands full of flowers now in disarray.

"Don't move, let me hold you," Lance didn't let go. The warmth and softness in his arms relaxed his nerves.

Grendel's movements stopped as she gently stroked his head, "If you're tired, just take a break."

After a while, Lance released her, gazing at her captivating face, "You're telling me to rest, but you also need to rest well."

Grendel laughed, "Life is good now. I even have the time to care for all these flowers."

"I don't care; I'll worry if you're worn out."

The two flirted for a while but didn't go further. Even if Lance wanted to explore deeper, he couldn't because Grendel was genuinely busy now.

Grendel wasn't idle at all, almost a role model who moved wherever needed.

For instance, the yeast for brewing distilled spirits at the winery was her creation, and the fruit flavoring for fruit wines was also her work.