Several more years had passed.
Standing atop a high platform, Silas looked down at the crowd below, all of them listening intently to his speech.
Clad in a sharp formal suit, Silas felt an immense sense of satisfaction.
Many of those present were people whose rank and status now rivaled—if not surpassed—what his had been a few years ago. And yet, they could only stand below the stage, obediently listening to him speak.
It was the kind of moment that made one reflect on the fickle nature of power and the unpredictability of life.
Back then, ever since he had successfully become a student of Saladin, he had shamelessly borrowed the man's influence to climb the ranks.
And that had been a tremendous advantage.
Hereditary nobles, top-tier supernaturals, multinational corporate chairmen—the trifecta of power, authority, and wealth—they could cover for nearly anything.
So much so that many who had once looked down on him now had no choice but to give him due respect.
Using that as a foundation, Silas began his ascent, bolstered further by the wealth of future knowledge he possessed. He climbed upward at breakneck speed.
In just half the time, he had already achieved a status almost identical to the peak of his previous life.
Perhaps even more stable this time around.
Even though it couldn't make up for the loss of his one-time save point, at the very least, it had eased many of the regrets weighing on his heart. A lot of the injustices that had once gnawed at him finally had a chance to be resolved. It brought him a measure of peace.
Organizing his thoughts, Silas continued speaking in a calm and orderly tone:
"As I mentioned before, the cooperation with Raystream Technologies involves a miniature communication device. It's roughly two-thirds smaller than the old-style communicators we currently use, with significantly improved signal strength. That's why I've decided to invest a substantial portion of capital into this project. Do any of you have suggestions?"
A brief silence followed.
Then a balding man in his forties raised his hand and said, "We've never even heard of this so-called Raystream Technologies. I really doubt their technical capabilities."
"That's right."
"Indeed."
"..."
Once someone spoke up, the rest quickly followed, voicing their skepticism in turn.
Soon, the room was filled with objections. Only a handful supported Silas's decision.
Silas wasn't bothered by the opposition. After all, Raystream Technologies was an obscure name—on the surface, it looked like just another small startup.
It was hard to believe a company like that could lead a technological revolution or dominate the future communications market.
In such a situation, trying to win over everyone with a few words was unrealistic.
If he weren't a "save scummer" with memories of the future—knowing that Raystream would eventually become the undisputed global leader in communications—he wouldn't have dared to make such a heavy investment either.
Because if things went south, even with Saladin backing him, the investors would tear him apart.
With a calm smile, Silas explained, "You don't need to worry about that. I've already obtained two prototypes from them. There's nothing wrong with their tech. The miniaturization, signal stability, and production efficiency have all been solved."
As he spoke, he pulled out two devices, each about the size of an adult's palm. They were shaped like flat disks and covered in various buttons.
To the eye, they looked practically identical to the smartphones from his previous life.
To be honest, the first time Silas saw one of these, he almost thought someone else had transmigrated into this world and was trying to get rich by making smartphones.
That idea both excited and alarmed him. After all, when fellow transmigrators met… there was always the risk of a knife in the back.
It wasn't until after multiple rounds of probing that he confirmed the people behind Raystream were indeed natives of this world. Although the devices resembled smartphones in both function and appearance, their underlying technology was vastly different—like the gap between steam-powered cars and gasoline engines. Completely unrelated systems.
Once he'd figured that out, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. In any case, his emotions were… complicated.
After taking out the compact communicators, he handed them off to the people seated nearby, letting them pass the devices around for inspection.
"I've personally toured their facilities and confirmed that the technology is fully mature," Silas continued. "Whether in terms of functional stability or scalability, there are no issues. All we need to do is sell it."
Of course, "sell" was putting it mildly. Everyone present understood full well that what they were really doing was putting their names on the line to vouch for this new product—giving the masses the confidence that it wasn't some scam or counterfeit.
One of the nobles weighed the device in his hand, studying it for a while. Although he still had no clue how it actually worked, he raised another important question:
"In that case, what's the pricing and profit margin?"
Silas answered evenly, "Depending on the model, the retail price will range from 1,000 Cogs to 2,000 Cogs. We'll be earning roughly a quarter of that as profit."
Hearing that, everyone nodded in agreement. The price wasn't cheap, but it wasn't out of reach either. Most ordinary people could scrape it together by saving diligently for three or four months.
It was also half the price of the old-style communicators—far more affordable and thus far more likely to be adopted en masse.
That meant massive potential profit.
"Once our partnership with Raystream is official, I'll divide the sales territories among you based on your spheres of influence," Silas said. "I'll take a 10% cut of the net profits, based on your total sales."
No one objected.
That was simply how their world worked. It was these very rules that allowed them to monopolize most of the profits and keep the commoners firmly suppressed.
Every product that became—or was about to become—mainstream would first pass through their hands, ensuring long-standing monopolies.
Only when they'd feasted their fill would those lower down the ladder get a chance to reach up and grab the scraps.
For the lucky few who caught such opportunities at the right time, those leftovers might be just enough to lift them out of their original class.
It was a path the elites had deliberately left open—because in order to maintain stability, there had to be a way up. Fresh blood was necessary to keep the system alive.
The lucky rose to the top, and those who failed in the endless power struggles were cast back down.
They wouldn't fall all the way to the bottom, but their status and influence would plummet. They'd have to lay low, bide their time, and wait for a new opportunity.
It was this constant rotation that had allowed the elite class to rule the world for countless years.
Every time Silas thought about it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for the common people. This system—unchanged for thousands of years—had long since solidified the social hierarchy and shaped the way people thought. No one, neither the rulers nor the ruled, ever questioned it. They treated it like a law of nature, as immutable as the rising and setting of the sun.
But then again, since he now stood on the side of the exploiters, Silas found he didn't really care.
After all, this seat was very comfortable—like being born halfway down a racetrack, with a tailwind behind him.
Another noble suddenly spoke up: "By the way, is there any chance we can reverse-engineer this thing?"
He hadn't understood a thing about how it worked, but that didn't stop him from asking the obvious question.
Silas could only shake his head. "Their manufacturing process is at least twenty years ahead of our current level. Reverse-engineering isn't realistic. Our cost would be higher, our profit lower, and the quality still inferior."
Hearing that, everyone quickly dropped the idea.
Even with a monopoly, such a gap in product quality and cost would make it hard to sell. The common folk wouldn't buy in.
What they didn't know was that there was another reason as well—Silas didn't want to antagonize Raystream Technologies.
He knew full well that in the future, this company would grow into a multi-industry titan. Offending them now would be a disaster down the line.
As for trying to undercut them before they got big? Not a good idea either.
From what he knew, the core figures at Raystream were all women—and none of them were easy to deal with. Whether in terms of influence or personal strength, they were formidable.
More importantly, the core technologies were all in their hands. They were both the inventors and the managers.
So what the hell was he supposed to steal, exactly…?
_____
T/N:
Hello everyone! My Patreon is just $3 — a perfect opportunity to access 80+ advanced chapters and support.
🔗 patreon.com/user?u=79514336
Or simply search Translator-Sama on Patreon.