Let's Do Business (1)

In rundown neighborhoods like Yeonok-dong, packed with elderly residents, it's common for homes to have poor shower facilities.

Sometimes the pipes are so old that even clean water doesn't come out properly, but the biggest issue is the lack of hot water.

That's why public bathhouses are essential in places like this.

But the local bathhouse had recently shut down.

"As you instructed, Lee Seop-nim, we've removed all the shower facilities and kept only the bathtubs and water systems. We've also laid soft mats on the bathtub floors."

Reopening the closed bathhouse? Absolutely not.

Why did it close in the first place? It wasn't making money—it was bleeding cash.

Now, I planned to use this acquired bathhouse like a factory.

'Sorry, Yeonok-dong folks, but you'll have to hold out a bit longer.'

When word got out that I'd bought the bathhouse, quite a few locals had looked at me expectantly. I ignored them.

"Install these holy relics in each bathtub. The women's side too."

Welfare perks for my Providence Church brothers and sisters in Yeonok-dong could wait until we made some money.

Better to use the profits from this to upgrade the plumbing, faucets, and boilers in those dilapidated houses.

That was way smarter than building and running a new bathhouse.

"Installation complete, Lee Seop-nim."

"The women's side says they're done too."

The Yeonok-dong bathhouse had three types of tubs: cold, warm, and hot.

Factoring in men's and women's sections, that meant six holy relics total.

"Good. Now turn on the water. Keep it all cold."

The Partners who'd just awakened had whipped up the six relics in no time, and I'd placed one at the center of each tub.

I'd printed an image of the Mother of All Things from the Providence app (AI-generated, of course) on A4 paper, framed it, and mounted it on 1.7-meter poles.

I admit it—they were pretty crude for holy relics.

Ideally, I'd craft marble statues modeled after my past life's Mother, but we didn't have the resources yet, so this would do for now.

"In the Mother's name, bless these sacred springs!"

Once the tubs filled, I cast Bless and Baptism over all six.

Shwaaaaa—

Suddenly, each tub glowed with a serene halo of Divine Power.

A peaceful light visible to any devout follower.

"Now fill the water tanks with this holy water."

That's right—it was holy water.

At my command, the burlier devotees stepped up.

They loaded the full tanks onto carts and transferred them to the two waiting Porters on the first floor.

"From now on, whenever you have time, come pray in front of these tubs. I'll pay you hourly."

As I watched the holy water load onto the trucks, I continued issuing orders.

"Prayers, you say?"

"Yes. I can't sit here all day making holy water myself. Shamefully, I'll borrow your strength, brothers and sisters."

"Will our prayers actually produce holy water?"

"Of course, each devotee's Divine Power is tiny compared to mine. But hundreds together? That's a different story."

While planning this holy water factory, I'd considered bestowing the Cleric class on a couple devotees.

But I held off.

Stigmata Bestowal should be saved for the truly worthy—hoard it until we expand nationwide, worldwide.

This factory runs fine ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠without classes anyway.

Plain faith-grinding from regular devotees was plenty.

"Lee Seop-nim, all loaded."

"Time to head to the Paju factory."

Heo Jae-su approached to signal we were ready to roll.

Core ingredient secured—it was time for packaging and sales at the Paju plant.

I left the devotees in charge and hopped in the truck.

The small Paju firm our Providence Foundation had acquired used to do OEM cosmetics.

The factory sign now blazed with the new affiliate name: Providence Anima Beauty.

"Make toner with this holy water. Package it as luxuriously as possible."

Inside the factory.

Holy water replaced purified water on the toner production line.

This was the birth of our Providence Church's first product: Providence Holy Water.

One day, bizarre ads started popping up online.

They first appeared in pop-up ads on third-rate clickbait news sites.

Anyone could see they were blatant, exaggerated false ads flooding the banners.

The before-and-after pics of a 70-something granny turning into a 50-something beauty were laughable clickbait—no one bit.

Even YouTubers who specialized in exposing shady companies deemed these too worthless to bother with.

But instead of fading, these "worthless" toner ads exploded over time.

They spread beyond trash news to Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, YouTube, communities—aggressive viral marketing everywhere.

But then YouTube Shorts went viral saying it's great for keratosis pilaris?

I've had bad KP on both arms since forever—couldn't even wear short sleeves, total stress.

Ruined so many almost-relationships over it.

Expensive prescription creams from the derm? Useless.

So I tried it anyway, figuring I'd get scammed...

It worked?? Went from this to that in a week. Insane.

Community reactions were getting weird.

Providence Holy Water is God.

One week later...

Childhood accident left bad burn scar on left temple—my trauma. Severe social anxiety too.

One week with this toner? Actually improved.

Insane.

Confidence up, going out freely now.

Tearing up writing this from joy.

This holy water is God to me.

Doubt all you want, but try it first.

Hesitating just delays shipping.

Word of mouth.

Story to story.

Providence Holy Water spread.

By now, scam-exposing YouTubers had to step up.

Subs flooded DMs and comments requesting reviews of the "holy water" toner.

A bit later...

NorthPolePenguin was just the start.

Testimonies and neutrals poured from scam YouTubers.

People started paying attention to Providence.

In a Yeonok-dong storefront turned Providence Foundation office.

"...This blew up more than expected."

"We overdid the initial ads and virals."

Lee Seop and the church elders gathered, faces grim.

The Paju factory and office were chaos—phones ringing, reporters swarming.