Ten minutes later, a bored-looking guard showed up, gesturing for Michael to follow. They wound through narrow alleys and twisting market streets until they reached the quieter outskirts of town's marketplace.
The guard stopped at a row of temporary stalls—simple wooden booths with canvas tops.
"This one's yours," he said, gesturing like it was a royal villa. "Don't cause trouble."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Michael replied.
The guard nodded and left.
Michael stood in front of his new shop—if one could call it that—and took a deep breath.
So… what should I even start with?
Albham was a typical medieval fantasy town, from what he had seen so far. If he wanted, he could bring over a thousand things from Earth and sell them here for insane profits. The problem, however, was that doing so would attract a lot of trouble. It also wouldn't be wrong to say that all the local merchants here might become his enemies. Still, he wasn't really afraid of that—having enemies in business was natural. But since he was new here, he didn't want to create enemies just yet.
"Ah, Sista, analyze the market. Give me a list of what I can sell here—something with demand, but nothing that'll get me stabbed in an alley on the first day."
[Understood, Host. Running a full market analysis will consume 2% Dimensional Energy. Do you want me to proceed?]
"Yes."
[Collecting processing data…]
[Dimensional Energy consumed: 2%]
[Market analysis complete. Presenting results:]
[Ding!]
[Market Analysis: Albham Town (Potential customers ~7,500. Mid-sized city. The influence of major guilds is very low here.)]
[Street Trader Scope: Small goods, cheap but useful items. Big merchants control grain, iron, and weapons. Touching those sectors is risky.]
[Top demand products for starting business here:]
Soap
Ordinary people here rarely use soap. What's available is rough, expensive, and only used by the wealthy.
If cheap and clean soap could be supplied, everyone from commoners to shopkeepers would buy it.
Risk: If big merchants notice, it could cause problems. But on a street level, it's safe.
Candles & Lighting
The only source of light for commoners is low-quality oil or tallow candles.
If long-lasting and cheap candles can be brought in, they'll sell fast.
Risk: Minimal.
Fire-making materials (matches/fire starter)
People here start fires with flint or friction methods—tedious and time-consuming. Some use magical fire starters, but they're costly and not portable.
A small, easy-to-use fire starter would become hugely popular.
Demand: Kitchens, travelers—if kept cheap, they'll sell quickly.
Basic Medicine / Herbal Products
Medical treatment is almost unaffordable for the common man. Going to a temple or healer is expensive.
If simple painkillers or fever reducers were sold, everyone would buy them. The number of customers for it will also be very large.
Risk: If the healer or temple finds out, trouble could follow.
[System Recommendation]
[First step: Start with candles and fire starters (matches). Low cost, high profit, minimal risk. Later expand into soap. Don't sell medicine yet—keep it for special clients or emergencies. Also, you could sell some Earth-style clothing to that rabbit woman, but wait a bit for that. First, you must establish your own customer base.]
Michael skimmed through the information, a cold smile tugging at his lips.
"Huh, that's good. I feel like I'm going to be super rich soon. But right now, the biggest priority is rest."
Even though it was daytime, he was very tired.
★★★
Michael tried to find a place to stay.
He was walking along the cobblestone streets of the town, looking around.
[Host, inn detected. Twenty meters to your right.]
Michael looked that way and saw a three-story wooden structure.
"Ahh, finally."
He moved forward. It was quite large, surrounded by old wooden walls. The inn's door was half-open, and a flood of noise poured out—laughter, the clinking of glasses, someone shouting a story, someone else snapping in anger. Just a little further off stood a stable, from which the neighing of horses echoed.
The air inside was thick with the smell of ale and roasted meat. Most tables were occupied—rough-looking men in leather tunics, a pair of women in travel-stained cloaks, a lone figure hunched over a bowl of stew, their face hidden beneath a hood.
At the far end of the room, a broad-shouldered man leaned against a counter, polishing a tankard with a rag. His beard was streaked with gray, his nose crooked from at least one break. The innkeeper, no doubt.
Michael approached, keeping his steps casual.
The man glanced up. His eyes—sharp, dark—scanned Michael from head to toe, lingering on his clothes.
"Lost, kid?"
Michael answered coldly, "Looking for a room."
The innkeeper snorted. "You got coin?"
Michael raised an eyebrow lightly.
"Just tell me the price."
The innkeeper's expression didn't change. "Single room, one night, nine coppers. No arguments—this is the biggest inn in town. Want cheaper? Go elsewhere. Food costs extra."
Michael gave him an odd look.
"Did I say anything about lowering the price?"
The man paused for a moment. He'd been running the inn for a long time—and many people had come to stay here in his life. Most had bargained, some had threatened. But this boy? His calm indifference was something else.
Michael pulled out the pouch, loosening the drawstring just enough to let the man see the coppers inside. It was the same pouch the food-stall owner had given him.
"There are forty-five copper coins here. Now, show me my room."
The innkeeper counted them carefully.
"Hm. Fine. But remember—no breaking things, no trouble, no stealing. You break the rules, I throw you out. No refunds."
Michael nodded. "Deal."
The innkeeper put the coins in a box and then pointed to a staircase.
"Second floor. Last door on the right. Don't slam it."
Michael headed that way. He climbed the stairs, reached the last room on the second floor, opened the wooden door, and stepped inside.
The room was exactly what Michael had expected.
Small. Bare. A narrow bed with a straw-stuffed mattress, a wobbly table, and a single candle in a tin holder. The window was a square of grimy glass, offering a view of the alley below.
Michael shut the door, dropped onto the bed, and let his exhaustion take him.