CHAPTER 76: MERCHANT

Tearing his gaze away from the coins, Gara’s expression turned serious.

"Mom, for our business, we won’t just be producing salt. We’ll also make herbal medicine and other herbal products. That’s why we need to build a Merchant House."

"A... Merchant House? That’s too..."

Wina’s eyes were filled with doubt. Starting a simple business was already daunting for her, let alone founding an entire Merchant House.

"I’ve already discussed this with Uncle Tristan," He said solemnly. "He’ll purchase the identity of a poor noble and register that identity as the owner of our Merchant House."

Wina stared, stunned. She hadn’t expected her son to have such a well-formed plan.

For sixteen years, she had cared for a boy who was pure, almost naïve about the world. The young man before her felt entirely different from the child she knew.

But Wina chalked up this sudden sharpness to his awakening—not just his bloodline and talent, but his mind had clearly opened as well. The idea that the Gara standing before her might not be her son never crossed her mind.

After all, the protective barrier around their home had been crafted by Lady Vita and infused with Gara’s blood when he was a baby. It existed to shield him.

If Gara ever chose, he could even keep Wina from entering. But unconsciously, he had always allowed her through.

Wina refocused on Gara, listening intently as he continued.

"We won’t produce salt here. We’ll buy a house with a large yard in another village and use it as our production site. I also want to mass-produce herbal medicine from my own recipes, along with Niskara tea, and several face, body, and hair care products I’ve been experimenting with."

"As for workers, we’ll purchase slaves—only from official associations—and bind them with a soul oath so they can’t reveal anything they see or hear while working for us. As long as we don’t use the oath to cover up murder or crimes like that, the binding will hold."

Gara had only learned about soul oaths from Tristan earlier that day. The "oath" was really a curse—one only possible for Liners with talents connected to the mind and soul. Such talents often, though not always, manifested from Devil, Demon, or Psionic bloodlines.

Bloodline, not race.

Breaking the oath meant risking one’s life, though for those who no longer valued it, death could be replaced by unending torment.

"Also, Uncle Tristan said there are some slaves who used to be nobles or people of high standing from other races who’ve fallen on hard times. Give them food, shelter, and fair treatment, and they’ll usually work well. They can serve as our managers."

"For our starting capital..." Gara met his mother’s gaze directly. "I’m certain the snake sale money, along with your savings, will be enough to get us going."

"But Gara, that money is for you and your children—"

Gara cut her off gently but firmly. "Mom, this business is also for me and my children. For all of us."

In the end, Wina stopped arguing and agreed to his plan.

She never imagined she would so readily accept everything Gara proposed. Not long ago, she wouldn’t even let him leave the house without her permission.

But she had learned something: the more she opposed him and clung to her own convictions, the farther her son would drift away.

It was better to stay flexible, close enough to watch over him, and ready to shield him if something went wrong.

Gara’s gaze shifted to Fian, who had been silent the entire time—not that he could speak. It wasn’t that Gara trusted the elf.

"You’ll have to take a soul oath as well." He had already decided on it.

Life would be far too inconvenient if he and Wina had to tiptoe around their own home just because someone else was present.

Expressionless, Fian nodded. He didn’t think much of the soul oath. He had taken it more times than he could count. And ever since, silence had simply become his way of life.

"Fian, for the next few days, you’ll handle the fields. Mom will focus on our business," Gara ordered.

No one argued.

They continued discussing the details, with Fian and Rea only listening.

After a long talk, Gara finally allowed himself to collapse onto the bed.

Without thinking, his hand moved to his stomach, stroking it gently. The motion eased him, a habit he’d developed whenever he was physically and mentally exhausted.

Though he was only in his eleventh week, his stomach was no longer flat—something that felt... odd.

In his previous world, he had never married, never had children. But he had friends who did.

He’d met some of them while they were pregnant, so he knew enough to be sure that at eleven weeks, a bump like his was impossible for someone his size. His own body had started showing as early as the tenth week.

Even Wina had remarked that his stomach seemed to appear too quickly.

Thinking about it brought Goddess Freya to mind. That troublesome deity might bicker with him often, but she had been his most reliable source of information about this world.

He waited for her to answer his questions, but she never appeared.

In the end, he let it go. This was a fantasy world. He was a man, and not entirely human. Maybe that combination simply came with unusual effects.

The next morning, Wina set off for town. Her first priority was to find a capable manager. While Gara was the one being pursued, they were also careful to ensure Wina didn’t draw any attention.

Tristan no longer contacted them directly, speaking only through the crystal ring. Emir had taken over his role, helping Wina find the right slaves to purchase.

The days grew busier. Every time Wina returned home, she would give Gara a full report.

On a day when Fian was free from field work, he accompanied Wina into town to take his soul oath, alongside the new manager they had chosen.

Their hard work paid off once they finally got production started.

...