While Kael was absorbed in thought, a sudden shout cut through the quiet street like a whip.
"Useless bastard! Don’t you dare crawl back here again!"
Another voice snarled, sharp and mocking. "Go cry to your fancy books, traitor. Maybe they’ll give you a spine!"
Then ca the thud of flesh hitting cobblestone—followed by laughter.
Kael turned instinctively toward the commotion.
A man was being hurled out of a small workshop, his body hitting the ground hard. Dust flew up from the impact.
"Get out, you bastard! You hear ? You’re done! You’re lucky I don’t smash your damn face in!"
The speaker was a heavyset man with arms like barrels and an oily apron. Three others stood behind him, laughing.
One kicked a discarded bucket at the fallen man, making him flinch. Another spat at his boots.
"Fucking snake," one muttered. "Thinks he’s better than us ’cause he can read. Go run back to your scrolls, scholar-boy!"
"He ain’t no scholar," another jeered. "He’s just a whining little shit who can’t take orders. Always ’correcting’ the boss, acting like he knows better."
The large man cracked his knuckles and lood closer. "Next ti I catch you anywhere near this shop, I’ll snap your pretty little neck."
Then he spat—right in Renn’s face.
The four n turned and walked away, laughing, shoulders bumping as they pushed down the street like they owned it.
Renn remained on the ground, jaw clenched, a line of spit trailing down his cheek. His hands were curled into fists, knuckles scraped red. But he didn’t rise. Not yet.
Kael waited a few more monts, making sure the others were gone. Then he stepped forward.
The young man looked about twenty-five. Lean fra, dark, tousled hair, dirt sared across his cheek, pride shattered but still clinging to his expression like a cracked mask.
Kael crouched down slightly. "You alright?"
Renn glanced up. His eyes were clear—but rimd with the red of held-back frustration. "Do I look alright to you?"
"Not particularly," Kael replied, calm. He extended a hand.
Renn hesitated, then took it.
Kael pulled him up.
"Na’s Kael," he said simply.
There was a pause. Then:
"...Renn. Renn Albrin. Thanks."
Kael glanced at the now-empty street. "Who were they?"
"Ah, I used to work for them. But now I’ve been fired."
Kael glanced sideways at Renn as they began walking.
"You want to tell what happened back there?"
Renn exhaled sharply through his nose, still brushing dust off his clothes. "Might as well. You helped up."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m from a small village east of here. I ca to Ginip a few years ago, trying to make a living. Got a job at that workshop—they make soap. Or... sothing close to it."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Close to it?"
"They cut corners," Renn muttered. "Big ones. Use cheap filler—ash, clay, even powdered bone sotis. Makes it look and feel like soap, but it’s harsh on the skin. So batches even gave people rashes. I kept my head down for a long ti, because I needed the job. But I didn’t stop thinking. I started experinting on the side. I wanted to make sothing better—real soap, with good oils and natural herbs. Took weeks to get it right."
He glanced at Kael, expression bitter. "When I showed it to the boss, he laughed. Said it cost too much. Said no one in town would care as long as the price was low."
"I told him we could sell it for more. That people would pay for quality. But I pushed too hard. He accused of trying to sabotage the workshop. Fired on the spot."
Typical. Kael had seen that kind of thinking in both worlds. Profit first, quality never.
Kael was silent for a mont. Then he asked, "Do you still have the formula?"
Renn looked up, confused. "What?"
"The soap formula. Do you still rember it?"
Renn blinked. "Of course I do. I worked on it for weeks. I rember every step."
Jackpot.
Kael already sold soap in Ginip—real soap, from Earth, and it sold well. But transporting it across worlds in bulk was becoming riskier.
And there was a problem.
As his business grew and demand increased, he would need more products. And he wouldn’t be able to bring such a large amount from Earth all the ti. It would raise suspicion. He didn’t want the CIA or FBI after him.
That’s why this mattered.
If Renn had even co close to making sothing like soap—using nothing but local ingredients... And even if Renn’s product was crude? Kael could fix that. He knew how to make real soap. He didn’t need to bring it anymore—he could teach how to make Earth soap.
That changed everything.
"If I can reproduce Earth-quality soap here...I won’t need to rely entirely on my portal anymore."
He could mass-produce it locally, sell it openly, and pass it off as a dostic product. No more questions about origins. No more dependency on Earth supply runs.
Kael studied Renn more closely now—not as a stranger, but as a potential partner.
"Anyway, why are you asking all this?"
"The reason I’m asking all this... is because I want to invest in you."
Renn blinked. "Invest? What do you an?"
"I was thinking about building a factory—well, a workshop—for producing everyday goods. And lucky , I run into a soapmaker the sa day I’m thinking about it."
Renn looked at him for a while.
"You serious?" His voice was rough. "You think it’s that easy? You think I haven’t thought about this a hundred tis? Do you know how many walls there are in this town? How much it costs to even rent a stall, let alone open a workshop? How fast people shut you down the second you try sothing different?"
He motioned back toward the shop. "Those bastards in there—they run half the soap in Ginip. They’ve got supply contracts, bribes in the right pockets. Even if I had tools and space, they’d shut down before I sold a single bar."
Kael didn’t argue. He gave a slow nod, like soone confirming the obvious.
"You’re right."
That stopped Renn mid-rant.
"It’s not easy," Kael continued. "It’s expensive, ssy. But you’re forgetting sothing important."
Renn looked at him warily. "...What?"
Kael gestured at himself. "I’m not you. I have Power. I have money. And I have a na people don’t want to cross."
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