Chapter 22
Barnes the capitalist warrior's eyes nearly popped out of his head again. "Hey, young master! Are we in the dirt-digging business here? What about transportation costs! If we don't make a margin, we'll starve!"
"Aw, come on, you'll be raking in a fortune selling shampoo. Cover it from there."
"That's one thing, this is another! This is straight-up tyranny!"
Barnes frothed at the mouth in protest. But I didn't budge.
"Branch manager. Who makes the shampoo? Our territory's people. Don't they need to eat well, dress well, and stay healthy to produce a ton of it?"
"W-Well..."
"This is an investment. Essential welfare to keep the production line running. What if the villagers go hungry and strike? Shampoo supply cuts off, right?"
"......"
"Decide. Monopolize the jackpot item and supply daily goods at cost in return. Or go back empty-handed and report to the caravan master that 'I kicked away the fortune that fell into my lap.'"
I drove the wedge home. Barnes clutched his head and groaned. Shampoo's potential profits vs. forgoing margins on daily goods. The outcome was obvious. The former dwarfed the latter.
"......Haa."
After a long silence, Barnes let out a deep sigh. He admitted defeat with a nod. "You win. We'll do it your way, young master."
"Smart choice."
I scratched out the pre-organized terms on parchment.
Article 1: Profits shall be distributed 7 to Martel Barony, 3 to Gold Wheel Merchant Group.
Article 2: Gold Wheel Merchant Group shall supply all daily necessities required by the barony at cost.
Article 3: This contract shall be renewed every 3 years...
"There, sign here." I handed him the quill. Barnes gripped it with trembling hands. Right before signing, he stared at me intently.
"Young master."
"Yeah?"
"Ever thought about becoming a merchant when you grow up? I'd take you as my apprentice."
"Pass. I just wanna be a rich bum."
"Heh... I see."
Barnes chuckled dryly and scrawled his name. Thud. The seal stamped down. Contract sealed.
"Pleasure doing business, sucker—er, branch manager." I jumped up for a handshake. Barnes shook my little hand, shaking his head.
"You got me good. Never thought I'd get fleeced by a 10-year-old."
"Looking forward to working with you. Goods ready in a week."
"Got it. Then I'll... head out. My stomach's killing me."
Barnes staggered out of the drawing room. The door clicked shut, and—
"Uwaaaah!!"
Dad let out a beastly roar and crushed me in a hug. "Kalian! My son! Genius! God of commerce!"
"D-Dad! Can't breathe!"
"A 7-3 split?! Daily goods at cost?! Is this a dream or reality?!"
Dad showered my cheeks with kisses. His beard prickled, but seeing him this happy made it fine.
"So our villagers can get through winter warm now?"
"You bet. Warmth, plus all the meat they can eat."
"Thank you... really, thank you..."
Tears welled in Dad's eyes. Knowing his worries all this time, my chest tightened.
Then Seria approached from where she'd been leaning against the wall, watching.
"Young master."
"Yeah, Seria? Saw that? My negotiation skills."
I puffed out my chest proudly. But Seria looked down at me with a strange expression.
"More like..."
"Like what?"
"You seemed like a con artist."
"Hey!"
"Hehe, it's a compliment. Felt reassuring, like you have a hundred snakes coiled in that head of yours."
Seria smirked and gave a thumbs-up. Insult or praise? Whatever. We did it.
"Alright, now it begins." I gazed out the window. Soon, wagons loaded with shampoo would line up in the castle courtyard. A golden future would pour into our territory.
"Get ready to sit on that money mountain!"
Right after the contract, I was swamped. Goods due in a week meant building the production line ASAP.
"Young master, is this really possible?"
Old Hans, the territory's blacksmith, eyed the blueprint skeptically.
"Totally. Simple structure. Think of it like a millstone."
I pointed to the massive vat in the warehouse center. Behold: the Mana Blender No. 1. The pinnacle of my laziness and past-life knowledge.
"Shampoo's secret is mixing. Water, oil, and herb extracts don't blend easily. Stir by hand, and they separate fast."
"True. Water and oil are natural enemies."
"But this changes everything." I opened the base. A mana stone was embedded there.
"This mana stone's the power source. Pull the lever, mana releases, activates the magic circle on the internal rotary blades."
I demonstrated. Poured water, olive oil, and lavender extract in ratios, yanked the lever.
Vrrr—!
The vat hummed and shook. The magic circle vibrated at ultra-high speed, pulverizing particles to nano-level and forcing fusion. The so-called 'mana emulsification' process.
Three minutes later, I lifted the lever and opened the valve. Glug glug. Clear, shimmering silvery liquid filled the bottle.
"Ooh...!"
Hans and the onlookers gasped.
"See? No need to be mages. Just measure ingredients, pull lever—done."
I addressed the gathered villagers. "This machine makes 500 bottles a day. You just bottle and pack. Work by the warm stove this winter, earn cash!"
"Woooah!!"
"Long live the young master!"
The villagers cheered. Winters up north mean no work. This factory was their savior.
And so, Martel Barony's shampoo factory roared to life.
Two weeks passed.
"Money's great, but..."
I rubbed my dry face at the mountain of order slips.
"When do we make all this?"
The Gold Wheel deal was a smash hit. Beyond success— a catastrophe.
Barnes took samples to the capital, and 'Martel Shampoo' exploded among noble ladies as revolutionary. Messengers arrived daily.
[Additional order: 500 units.]
[Short on stock. Please send more.]
[The princess seeks it too. Make it with your life on the line.]
We could make it all, sure. Problem was...
"Mana stones... all out."
Seria shook an empty box. Our stock and advance payment stones were gone. We'd ordered more, but northern terrain delayed delivery.
Machines stopped, deadlines loomed. Run them on my mana? I'd collapse by morning.
One option left.
"Manual mixing."
"......Pardon?"
And so...
"Hup! Ha! Hup! Ha!"
In the castle annex's makeshift factory, 12-year-old sword genius Seria wielded a massive wooden paddle. Before her, a cauldron big enough for a person bubbled furiously.
"Faster! Viscosity's thickening! Up the RPM!"
"Got it! Hiyah!"
Seria's arm muscles bulged. She stirred the shampoo base at breakneck speed.
Whoooosh—!
A whirlpool formed in the cauldron.
"Good! Hold that speed! Ingredients in!"
I waited with a herb basket, dumping at the perfect moment.
"Rosemary drop! Lavender drop!"
"Take this! Super-speed mix!"
Seria scooped the falling herbs, pulverizing them instantly.
"Huff... huff..."
Thirty minutes later, one cauldron's worth done. Sweat-drenched Seria leaned on the paddle like a staff.
"Y-Young master."
"Yeah? Tired? Take a break?"
Seria stared blankly, glancing between her shaking arms and the giant paddle.
"Am I... a knight, or a factory foreman?"
Her face dead serious. She'd sworn to swing a sword on the glorious path of knighthood. Yet here she was, manually stirring shampoo. Identity crisis incoming.
I placed a hand on her shoulder, equally serious.
"Seria."
"Yes."
"You're not just a factory foreman."
"Then what?"
"A great warrior of capitalism."
"......"
Seria's eyes narrowed.
"Warrior of capitalism, my ass. I'm just a laborer."
"Aw, labor? Call it a noble struggle for the territory's revival? Every stir gets villagers warm winter clothes and tasty meat sides."
"Smooth talker."
Seria grumbled but regripped the paddle. So sweet. Softens at mention of villagers.
"And bonus when done."
"Bonus?"
"That new sword sheath you wanted. I'll buy it."
"!!!!"
Laser beams shot from Seria's eyes. I flinched back.
"Young master."
"Y-Yeah?"
"Next cauldron."
"S-Seria? Rest firs—"
"No. 'Row when the tide comes,' you said. So I'll stir."
Seria clenched her fist and yelled.
"I'll show you what a capitalist warrior is! Let's goooo!"
"Uh, yeah!"
Kwaaaah!
Seria's stirring accelerated. Twice as fast?
Scary...
That night, we smashed production targets by 200%. Of course, next day Seria whined, "Young master, can't lift a spoon... feed me?" Not a secret.