Chương 138: Cordyceps Three

I wasn't looking to get rich. No, my goal was more... I suppose I was drawn into a long conflict against the very concept of the chase for more riches. That kind of greed without any regard for the consequences of self-enrichment was what turned City Nineteen into the cesspit that it was, and I didn't want to become either a cog in that machine, or one of those perpetuating the very thing I was here to dismantle. I was also aware of my own hypocrisy. My little mushroom-skewer selling business was profitable.

Not superbly so at first, especially when it depended on locals having money of their own to spend and that money was scarce, but it still grew by fits and starts. Over those two busy years, I grew my business at a rate that I suspect was somewhat prodigious. Every step I took felt natural, like it was the obvious thing to do at the time. One day, Bet came to me and said that she had a friend who was looking for work too. Another girl, this one a year older than Bet, making her... about thirteen?

I was pretty sure that Bet was two years my senior at the time. I didn't have a good reason not to accept the extra hand. After all, I was loath to send Bet out on her own, and I had a lot of small things vying for my attention. An extra hand would only help, and even if my margin of profits would be cut into even more with an extra person onboard, it wouldn't be down to nothing. The girl was called Mary-Anne, and she had a father who worked at the Union.

Her mother knew Bet's family, and they lived near each other. She was a tallish girl, stick-thin and nervous, but with a nice smile and pretty, dark-ginger hair a few shades darker than my own. Mary-Anne was nervous when we first met, but soon calmed down as I explained the work.

"Just slather these in butter. Don't be too afraid to waste the butter, it's fairly cheap right now. I buy milk that's about to spoil from a grocers on ninety-first for a half-penny the bottle and turn it to butter at the farm. You might be asked to help with that," I added. Mary-Anne nodded along as I spoke.

"Got it," she said. I finished cooking a few skewers, then handed her one.

"Eat up," I said. She did so, and judging by the happy noises she made, the few levels I'd earned in [Cooking] were being put to good use. That reminded me that I'd have to get Mary-Anne to learn the skill too, if she had a slot for it free. It was an easy enough skill to get, and it would help a lot.

"So, we just make these, and then bring the money back?" Mary-Anne asked.

"That's the gist of it," I said, and I laid things out for her to try cooking a few herself.

"It's not too complicated now that it's all set up, but there's a lot of work in the background to make it... well, work. Getting the materials, the mushrooms, the oils and butters and garlic, getting permission to sell at different locations. Honestly though, I'm making it sound more complex than it is. It just takes time to set everything up, and a small initial investment for some of the equipment. Past that, it's almost self-perpetuating. But it doesn't earn you that much."

"Okay," she said. Mary-Anne didn't strike me as the brightest candle in the night, but she was a nice enough girl, and she got along well with Bet. After a week or two with just a few small issues (she once dropped a tub of butter on a client's pants and she was prone to burning things at first) she got the hang of the job and things went smoothly. Then, one day as I was selling mushroom soup—we were trying new things—at one of the markets, Bet and I were approached by two girls.

"Hey," One of them said. She was older, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with a nose that had been broken at least once and clothes that were clean, but worn in a few places. Something told me that she was trouble.

"Who do you work for?" she asked. I glanced at Bet, but she seemed to leave it up to me.

"We work with a few people," I said evasively.

"Why?" The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"I wanna sell shit like this too," she said.

"We're not looking for more people to sell stuff," I lied a little. While I wasn't looking for more sellers, I wouldn't mind a few more hands. It might mean having two stalls running concurrently, and my farm was now out-producing our sales by a handy margin. I could run three stalls at the moment. My extra supplies of mushrooms were being donated to the union every week, just to do something with them instead of tossing them in the trash.

"Well, maybe your boss wouldn't mind a replacement for one of you two," the girl said. She closed her hands into fists with an audible pop, and her friend, who was closer to Bet's age, though a bit scrawnier, wiped at her nose then pulled out a screwdriver from her belt. Then I laughed in their faces.

"Girl, I respect the hustle, but you're wasting your time. You wouldn't swing a fist in this market if you were smart, and even if you did, I'd make you regret it," I said. She glared at me, and I instantly felt my heart skipping a beat and my breath hitch. My hands shook for a moment, and I felt as if I was staring down an oncoming train, only... no, this was just a girl. Almost as soon as the effect settled in, I brushed it off.

"Huh," I said as I licked my lips.

"That's a neat trick. What is it, [Intimidation]?" The girl seemed to have been put on the backfoot for the moment.

"Yeah, maybe," she said.

"What, you're not afraid?"

"No," I said.

"Who do you work for?" She shifted.

"No one," she said.

"Is just me and ma sis, and we're needing that job you have there. And if I need to kick your teeth in to get it, I will."

"How about we don't kick anyone's teeth in and I get you a better sort of job?" I asked carefully. I could tell she didn't trust me quite yet, and in this case my skills were probably working against me. I couldn't play the role of someone as tough as her, not when I had skills that made me look very much the opposite.

"What sorta job?" she asked. I grinned.

"How about I tell you where to meet me after, and I'll show you what I'm looking for?"

"You think you can get away so easy?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"You beat us up and the best you'll get is kicked out of the market with a boot to your ass. You listen to me, and you might get a job out of it. And here, have a couple of skewers, on the house." She did listen, in the end, and I wasn't sure if it was my persuasive abilities, my lack of fear, or the food that convinced her. Her name was Willow, and her scrappy little sister was Daisy.

She'd been working at a place of ill-repute for a while, until she got sick and her nose got broken and then she went around begging for coin wherever she could and sleeping on the streets with Daisy in tow. She needed the job bad, and once I delivered on my promise of work, Willow's loyalty was won over instantly. She was awful at selling, couldn't cook to save her life, and had an attention span measured in seconds, but she was quick and vicious and knew how to make a grown man cry.

I got her to take lessons with Dregs while the rest of us took [Cooking] lessons from Aunt Nicole, and while she always came back a bit bloodied and bruised, it was with one of her signature missing-teeth grins. Early on in my first year, I decided to bite the bullet and picked up a new skill called [Management]. Management {Uncommon} The ability to keep track of personnel and employees, of having supplies on hand when needed, and of running a business.

Category: Managerial skills, social skills I wasn't planning on keeping this one forever, but for the moment, it was a nice boon to have. My little enterprise waxed and waned. I kept my core group, but hired out more girls who'd often leave after a few weeks or months to greener pastures and more profitable work. In the meantime, I made a neat little reputation for myself as a fair minded young businessperson with an eye for talent and making a fair coin. That would serve me well in the future, I figured.