Transmigrating to the World of Thaumaturgy was the Start of Everything Chapter 23: Gaining Traction

After the elderly man left, Elias and Selina watched through the window as he sauntered back toward the slums. But they were too far away to see what happened next.

As soon as the old man was out of their sight, his entire deanor changed. The shuffling gait beca purposeful, the bent posture straightened, and the hollow look in his eyes was replaced by sharp calculation.

—This was no ordinary holess vagrant.

Judging by the contrasting deanor between his previous persona and current persona, this was soone who had learned to use appearance as a weapon, a way to beco invisible to the world.

"What a fine lad. I wonder where he ca from?"

He comnted with genuine interest, his voice no longer sounding rough.

Then, unable to resist the pastry’s tantalizing aroma, he unwrapped the Deli-Cake as he walked. The pastry was exactly as Selina had described. It was roughly the length of two thumbs, thick enough to require both hands to hold properly, and glazed to perfection.

He took a tentative bite, and his eyes widened in genuine shock. The flavor was unlike anything he had ever tasted. It was rich and complex, with layers that seed to unfold on his tongue. But more than that, he could feel the pastry’s nourishing properties almost imdiately. This wasn’t rely a treat; it was genuine sustenance, as filling and energizing as a proper al.

He devoured the rest with an enthusiasm that had nothing to do with his assud persona, then drank deeply from a water pouch at his waist before releasing a satisfied belch.

"Incredible."

He murmured in disbelief, his mind already working through the implications.

"Who is this masked shopkeeper? And how did he create sothing like this?"

He mused. He licked his lips as he gazed toward Mama’s Pastry Shop, as if he could peer through the obstacles and see the store directly. Then he turned away and began walking back to his residence in the slums.

"I’ll wait and see what changes he brings."

He comnted as he walked away. Although Elias had distorted his voice to sound neutral, the old man could easily discern his gender from the speech patterns.

As he continued toward the slums, he encountered one of the many malnourished children who populated the area. It was a small boy sitting listlessly against a crumbling wall, his ribs visible through his torn shirt.

Rembering Elias’s request to spread word about the shop, the old man reached into a hidden pouch and withdrew several Mystic Stones. He tossed them to the boy, who caught them with reflexes honed by a lifeti of scavenging.

"Boy, there’s a new shop that just opened."

The old man’s voice returned to the rough tones of his assud persona.

"You’ll recognize it when you see it. The owner is... unusual. He wears all black with a white mask. But the food..."

A euphoric expression crossed his face as he recalled the taste of the Deli-Cake. The boy felt disgusted watching him make such a face, though he kept his revulsion hidden.

Realizing he was getting carried away, the old man shook his head and said indifferently:

"Anyway, go buy yourself sothing. You won’t regret it, kid."

He repeated this process throughout the slums, distributing Gold Coins and Mystic Stones to child after child he ca across. Each ti, he described the mysterious shopkeeper and urged them to visit the shop, Mama’s Pastry. By the ti he reached his ramshackle dwelling, he had directed nearly two dozen children toward Elias’s shop.

...

The first boy to receive the old man’s coins approached Mama’s Pastry with the wariness of soone who had learned that good fortune often ca with hidden costs. He circled the building twice, checking for signs of danger, before finally mustering the courage to enter.

The mont he stepped inside, he was struck by the clean, pleasant scent that filled the air. It was such a stark contrast to the usual odors of the slums that he actually paused to take a deep breath. Then his eyes fell on the display cases, and his jaw dropped in amazent.

—He had never seen food like this in his life.

The pastries seed to glow with inner light, their colors more vivid than anything in his gray world. For a mont, he wondered if he was dreaming.

"Welco!"

Selina’s sweet voice startled him from his reverie. She approached with a warm smile, showing none of the disgust or dismissal he usually encountered from other shopkeepers.

"Are you here to make a purchase? Let show you what we have."

She guided him through the options, explaining each pastry with genuine enthusiasm. The boy listened with growing amazent, not just at the descriptions of the food, but at being treated with such kindness and respect.

"I... I want the biggest one."

He finally managed to say, pointing to one of the larger Deli-Cakes.

"Excellent choice."

Selina carefully wrapped the pastry.

"That’ll be 2 Mystic Stones or 200 Gold Coins."

A single Mystic Stone was worth 100 Gold Coins. Gold Coins served as the standard currency for commoners, while Mystic Stones were the preferred currency of the aristocratic class. Although the exchange rate between Mystic Stones and Gold Coins was officially 100 to 1, the actual value of Mystic Stones was far greater in the eyes of Thaumaturgists.

No Thaumaturgist would willingly exchange their Mystic Stones for re Gold Coins. Additionally, exchanges only worked one way: Mystic Stones could be converted to Gold Coins, but not vice versa.

Since only aristocrats possessed Mystic Stones, it was extraordinarily rare for a commoner to own even one. Despite this reality, the holess elderly man had given the boy 5 Mystic Stones, so the pastry’s price posed no concern for him.

The boy handed over 2 Mystic Stones with trembling fingers, half-convinced that soone would appear to snatch away his treasure. Possessing Mystic Stones had been beyond his wildest dreams until today.

However, the transaction completed smoothly, and he even received an extra Deli-Cake as a bonus from Selina. Soon, he scurried away from the shop, clutching his prize.

He made it only a few blocks before the aroma of the pastries beca irresistible. Unwrapping one Deli-Cake, he took a bite and imdiately understood the old man’s insistence and why he had made such a disgusting expression when describing the food. The flavor was heavenly, but more than that, he could feel strength flowing into his malnourished body.

For the first ti in months, the constant gnawing of hunger began to fade. The boy devoured every morsel, not allowing a single crumb to escape his voracious mouth.

...

Just like that, Mama’s Pastry began gaining traction as word spread through the slums with the speed that only desperation could achieve. Child after child made their way to the shop, each returning with food that seed almost magical in its ability to satisfy both hunger and the soul’s craving for sothing wonderful.

The sight of so many ragged slum children entering and leaving the shop with obvious delight on their faces began attracting attention from other parts of the city. Passersby stopped to stare at the unusual scene. They all began to wonder to themselves:

What kind of establishnt could draw such enthusiasm from the slums’ most desperate residents?