Morning had begun to break over Albham, and people were slowly starting their daily routines.
Michael, too, had arrived to complete his mission. Dressed in the local clothing of Albham, he stood in front of his stall.
He had already unpacked and arranged his goods long before anyone else, since this was his very first day. He had even arrived before dawn. That gave him a big advantage—he could freely pull things out from his pocket warehouse and set them up without anyone around to notice.
For his stall, he had bought two hundred matchboxes and a hundred cans of food to sell.
The matchboxes he stacked like little pyramids, while the cans he lined up in neat rows like a miniature wall. He had plenty of time to kill, after all.
As for the canned food, he tore the labels off each one so that the locals wouldn't mistake them for strange, expensive, or magical items. That would prevent a lot of unnecessary trouble.
As time passed, the marketplace began to fill with people.
Crowds walked past Michael's stall, staring at his goods with curious and puzzled eyes—it was only natural, since these items were completely foreign to them.
Michael, however, stood confidently with arms crossed, doing his best impression of a man who absolutely belonged there.
Finally, a man in patched armor approached.
"What's this?" he asked, poking a can.
"Canned food. Just open and eat. Inside each is a full meal—sealed, preserved. Perfect for adventurers on the go," Michael replied with a smile. He had no intention of letting his very first customer slip away. He opened a can right in front of him.
The moment Michael pried the lid open, it let out a soft psst as the trapped pressure escaped—filling the stall with a wave of aroma.
At first sniff, the man thought: smoked meat. As if some stew had just been taken off a fire out in the fields. Beneath that, there was a faint earthy undertone—like root vegetables and wild garlic—mixed with the sweet, heavy richness of broth simmered with bones. There was a faint metallic edge from the tin, yes, but the meaty fragrance covered it up, adding instead a strange, enticing sharpness.
His nostrils flared; his eyes gleamed like misty morning dew.
"When exactly did you make this? And is it safe to eat? I've never seen food sealed inside a metal box before."
Michael calmly took a spoonful from the can and ate it right there.
"It's one hundred percent safe. These cans are a way to preserve food for a long time. You can store it for three to six months without worrying about it going bad."
(Though in truth, the cans lasted two to three years, Michael—on Sista's advice—chose to downplay the number.)
"What the—? Really??? This will last six months? Do you take me for a fool? Do I look like someone you can trick? I'm a well-known adventurer in this city, understand? If you try to cheat me, it won't end well for you."
The man's disbelief was sharp, almost like telling a flat-earther that the world is round—it was the kind of reaction that could easily spiral into an argument.
But Michael had no intention of wasting time arguing. His only goal was to sell, complete his mission, and level up.
"Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. In my homeland, we don't always have the luxury of fresh food. Wars, storms, long winters—whatever the reason, we needed a way to keep meals from spoiling. So we created these."
He tapped the can with a knuckle.
"A steel shell, sealed airtight with heat and pressure. The food inside is cooked and preserved—no magic involved. No rot, no mold, no need for cold storage. It's just meat, vegetables, or stew—real ingredients. Maybe it won't win a festival feast contest, but it'll fill your belly and keep you alive."
[Streetwise Instinct: Target is wavering. Low trust, but high curiosity.]
The adventurer's skepticism didn't fade. He kept eyeing the can, as if trying to find a flaw in Michael's explanation.
"Huh. Still feels unbelievable."
Michael leaned forward, spoon still in hand, eyes sharp with quiet confidence.
"Look at me. Do I look like a man who'd waste time on tricks?"
He tapped the metal with a smirk. "This? This is the future. And right now… you're standing at the front of it."
[Host, judging from his expression, he's torn. If you offer him a very low price, he might actually buy some.]
Michael agreed with the suggestion.
"Since today's my very first day opening this stall, I'm willing to give a big discount. As my stall's first customer, I'll sell you each can for just eight copper. And if you buy five cans together, I'll give you a special deal—only fifteen copper in total."
The man considered this. Fifteen copper coins for five cans wasn't a bad deal at all—in fact, it was excellent. Especially since the cans contained real meat, which was usually far more expensive.
Finally, he grunted, reached into his pouch, and pulled out coins. "Fine. I'll take the deal."
Copper clinked against wood.
[Transaction Complete: 5 Cans Sold | +15 Copper]
[Mission Progress: 9/100 Items Sold]
[Timer: 6:06:31:08]
Also, while leaving with the cans, the man said, "And remember—if the food in these cans goes bad, you're in for a lot of trouble."
Michael watched him walk away with a grin. While the threat was annoying, he wasn't concerned.
(Pathetic fool… You'll be back tomorrow begging for ten more.)