20. Elastin Done
A week had passed. Maybe because I'd come back from the dead, my body felt noticeably lighter. Even my mana circuits seemed tougher than before.
"Haa, feels like I can live again."
I stretched as I stepped out into the hallway. Outside the window, summer had already faded, and autumn's lonely winds were rolling the fallen leaves. Of course, autumn wouldn't last long either. The north's winters were infamous for their brutality, so it was time to hurry with preparations for hunkering down.
"Hm?"
I spotted Father's office door slightly ajar.
"Hoo..."
A deep sigh. I stopped in my tracks and listened.
"This is a problem. They say this year will be especially cold... We're short on firewood and food to distribute to the territory's people."
Father was mumbling to himself. His desk was a mess of ledgers and an abacus.
"We've already collected as much tax as we could, and squeezing more would break the people's backs. Should I dip into my emergency fund? No, that's for Seria's snacks and Kalian's allowance..."
Father clutched his head. Our barony had no debt, but we weren't exactly well-off either. Plus, Father was such a softie—slashing taxes during bad harvests, emptying the granary whenever someone was in need. The people adored him for it, but the castle vaults were always scraping bottom.
Dad...
It hurt my heart. He was even willing to raid his own emergency stash for our snacks.
I couldn't just stand by. I clenched my fist.
Time to make some money.
I'd never run a business before, so I'd planned to try it once I grew up. But no choice now—I had to do it.
Past-life knowledge plus this-life magic. Combining those should make earning cash easier than pie, right?
Just then, commotion erupted outside the castle.
"My lord! We have a guest!"
The head maid came rushing in.
"A guest? Who's coming?"
"It's a merchant caravan, they say. From the Gold Wheel trading company."
"Gold Wheel? That massive trading house?"
Father's eyes went wide. The Gold Wheel company—true to its golden wheel name—was famous for sniffing out profit like no other powerhouse merchant group. For them to come all the way to this backwater?
"Bring them in quick! An important guest!"
Father straightened his clothes and hurried to the drawing room. Curiosity piqued, I sneaked after him. Seria was suddenly at my side.
"Young master, something smells fishy."
"What smell?"
"Money. And con artist."
Seria sniffed the air and whispered. Honestly, I felt the same.
In the drawing room sat a middle-aged man in flashy silk robes. His belly protruded, fingers dripping with gold rings. Look at that greasy hair. Ugh, at least wash it.
"Pleased to meet you, Baron Martel! I'm Barnes, branch manager of the Gold Wheel company's northern division."
The man grinned sleazily and offered Father a handshake.
"Aigoo, you must be tired from the long trip. Make yourself at home in our humble abode."
"Haha, no need. A merchant doesn't pick and choose his spots. Straight to business."
Barnes pulled a thick stack of documents from his bag.
"Our company plans to buy up northern specialties in bulk. Word is, Martel Barony's herbs and ore are top quality."
"Oh? That's welcome news!"
Father's face lit up. It was like a lifeline for our urgent needs.
"So, we'd like an exclusive contract to purchase everything you produce."
"Exclusive, you say?"
"Yes. But market rates... well, times are tough these days."
Barnes tapped his abacus and scribbled a number on paper, sliding it to Father. Father's expression hardened as he looked.
"This... it's less than half last year's price."
"Come on, Baron. You know how logistics costs have skyrocketed with progress? We barely break even. This is purely to help your barony."
Barnes tsked, acting generous.
"Plus, they say this winter's snow will be heavy. Sell now or it rots in storage—no profit then. We're offering cash upfront; that's generous."
Classic lowball tactic. Exploiting desperation. But Father couldn't argue—he was worried about the people's winter survival.
"Hmm... better than letting it pile up, I suppose."
"Right? Wise choice, Baron. Just stamp here."
Barnes smirked, pushing the contract forward. Father picked up his seal with trembling hands, resignation in his eyes.
That moment.
"Hold it!"
I burst through the door.
"Kalian?"
Father and Barnes turned. Barnes scowled like What's this brat?
"Dad, don't sign that."
"Son, what are you saying? Don't be rude in front of a guest."
"Rude? That's the one lacking manners. Half the market price? Even a stray dog would laugh."
"W-what?!"
Barnes's face flushed purple.
"Y-you little punk, butting into adults' talk! Baron, how do you raise your kid?"
"Ah, sorry. He's a bit too honest..."
Father flustered, but I strode right up to Barnes and snatched the contract, scanning it.
"Exclusive deal with penalty clauses? This is a slavery contract. Buy our stuff cheap, mark it up tenfold, right?"
"T-this...!"
Barnes stammered, hit on the nose.
I slammed it on the table.
"Mister. Dad's just too nice to speak up, but he's no fool. Take this scrap back."
"Hah! Outrageous. Kid, you don't get it—refuse Gold Wheel, and no one buys your junk. Want to suck your thumb all winter?"
Barnes bared his teeth in threat. Father tried to intervene, panicked.
"Kalian, enough. Our situation..."
"Don't worry, Dad. We don't need to dump herbs or ore for peanuts."
I grinned reassuringly.
"We've got a real jackpot product that puts those to shame."
"Jackpot product?"
Father and Barnes echoed.
"Yep. Something even Gold Wheel would empty their coffers for."
I shot Barnes a provoking glance.
"Though with your attitude, maybe we won't sell."
"W-what? Jackpot? Hilarious! As if this dirt-hole has anything!"
Barnes scoffed, but his eyes flickered with curiosity. Merchant instincts sniffing profit.
"Curious? Come back tomorrow. I'll have it ready."
I led Father out. Barnes yelled after us, fuming: "Tomorrow it is! Bluff and you're done!"
In the hall, Father asked worriedly,
"Kalian, what are you planning? Jackpot product? We don't have anything like that."
"We do. I'll make it."
"Make it?"
"Just trust me, Dad. I'll put our barony on easy street."
I flashed a confident smile, then grabbed Seria's wrist—she'd been standing by.
"Let's go, Seria."
"Huh? Where?"
She blinked, confused. I eyed her swaying black hair and grinned wickedly?
"Your room."
"...Pardon?"
Seria's face turned beet red.
"W-why my room all of a sudden..."
"Need to borrow something."
"W-what?"
"Your hair."
"...You're gonna cut my hair and sell it?"
Seria clutched her head in horror.
"No, dummy! Just borrow the texture. From today, you're our barony's top model."
"Model?"
"Yeah. Hair all silky-shiny like 'Elastin done~'—you know? Anyway, come on. Might be washing hair all night."
"...Sounds ominous."
Seria grumbled but followed obediently.
Alright, stage set. Tomorrow, I'd flatten that arrogant merchant's nose and empty his wallet.
Time to unleash the magic shampoo.
—
The next morning, tension crackled in the Lord's Castle drawing room.
"Hmmm, ahem."
Barnes, Gold Wheel branch manager, drummed his fingers on the table. He made no effort to hide his boredom and irritation.
"Baron. It's been 30 minutes. When do we see this 'jackpot product'? I'm a busy man."
"Ah, it'll... it'll be here soon. Just a bit longer."
Father sweated, glancing at me. I lounged back on the sofa, sipping milk. In situations like this, act casual—you're the boss, he's the beggar.
"She's here."
As I set down my glass, the door opened. I plunked a prepared glass vial on the table. A palm-sized bottle of translucent liquid with a faint blue glow.
"This is it."
"...Just this?"
Barnes snorted derisively.
"Perfume? Potion? Stuff like this is everywhere in the capital."
"Not perfume. It's called 'shampoo'."
"Shampoo? What's that?"
"Cleanser for washing hair."
"Hah!"
Barnes barked a laugh.
"We have soap—why a special hair wash? Kid, business isn't play. Think nobles waste coin on frivolities?"
He shot to his feet.
"Waste of time. Baron, I'm disappointed. Yesterday's herb deal is off."
"N-no! Manager, wait!"
Father lunged to stop him. But I didn't flinch, snapping my fingers.
"Come in, Seria."