The morning light over Ashrock felt different — not sharper, not louder, just heavier with possibility. Ashburn woke with that steady, focused feeling he'd come to know: a careful readiness rather than restless anxiety. Today the sixth evaluation was starting. Today the next phase began.
He sat at the little desk by the window, the ledger open, pen ready. The shops hummed below; vans were being loaded; Aisha's neat handwriting on the schedule looked like a promise pinned to paper. He breathed in, then read the message that arrived in the silence of his room.
[System Notification]
Sixth Evaluation — Duration: 6 Months.
System Capital Provided: 32 Lakh.
Instruction: Prepare and submit Subsidy System proposal for side business. Use evaluation period to implement phased expansion.
He read it twice, then set the page down and closed his eyes. The words settled inside him. He thought, quietly, that the system had just placed a very tangible tool in his hands — thirty-two lakh rupees, for six months, and an invitation to build something new. No one else knew about the notification. To everyone outside, he was simply extra-focused that morning.
At the breakfast table his father asked a trivial question about paint colors for the front sign. Sami complained about uniforms, his little sister added effects with squeaky enthusiasm, and his mother folded chapatis with the kind of calm that made the kitchen the most ordinary miracle. Ashburn answered with the same half-smile used for family, but his mind was already working through numbers.
Total capital right now, he thought to himself, hovered around a crore. Most of it was tied up in inventory, stock, and fixed assets — not cash in hand — but it was enough to start moving. The thirty-two lakh system capital could be the nudge he needed to turn plans into action without mortgaging what he'd already built.
He went to Khan General Store One mid-morning. The space felt familiar: the warm scent of spices, the low chatter of women comparing prices, the rhythm of coins and ledgers. He walked the aisles slowly, imagining it as something larger. He pictured wider aisles, a proper cold section, an aisle for appliances, a branded checkout, the kind of store where customers came for a list and left with solutions.
"Ashburn, are you okay?" Aisha asked from the counter, watching him stop in front of the rice shelf. She kept the shop's numbers in her head the way other people kept appointments. "You look like you're redesigning the world."
"Maybe just the shop," he said, smiling. He kept the system's message to himself. "I was thinking about the layout. If we convert this first shop into a supermarket, we'll need a small renovation budget, new racks, a cold storage upgrade… and a better billing system."
Aisha tapped a pen against her lip. "Renovation's a big step. Customers will love it, but we'll have to manage the downtime carefully. Branch Two can handle overflow while One closes for retrofitting." She spoke fast, practical and precise. "You'll need to map supplier schedules, stock rotation, and a temporary supply buffer. Also, signage, staff training, service counters…"
"And delivery coordination," he added. "More deliveries, more rotation, more customer trust. We can bring the Horizon partnership into the fold for bulk items, but local suppliers will need special handling."
Aisha's eyes shone. "Then we map a phased schedule. Two weeks for design and procurement, four weeks for renovation, reopen with a soft launch. We train staff, rotate stock so nothing is wasted." She looked at him, half-teasing. "You know your way around numbers. Don't spend all the thirty-two lakh on marble floors and lights."
He laughed. "No marble." He felt the plan forming — sensible steps rather than a leap. The system's capital could cover part of the supermarket conversion; his own capital and profits could back the branch. He could keep the cash flow intact and avoid over-leveraging.
He walked the shop with Aisha, pointing where a cold cabinet would go, where a bakery corner might fit, how to create a separate billing lane for quick customers. Workers peered curiously when he called them together for a short talk, and he explained the plan simply: renovation, training, temporary shifts, better service. They nodded — the practical folk who cared for work as much as pay.
Later he sat with the branch manager and mapped delivery routes. Converting store one into a supermarket meant two things at once: more chance to capture higher-margin products and more pressure to keep replenishment tight. The system capital could seed the extra vans and cold-storage units he'd been dreaming about. If he used the thirty-two lakh strategically, he could split it: some for renovation, some for a mini cold-chain, some reserved as contingency.
Evening came and he rode his bike to the second shop with a small list of numbers forming in his head. At sunset, everything looked possible; the desert sun gave the city a patient glow. He stopped once, feeling the small ache of responsibility and the larger thrill of control. This month — six months of focused work — would be about building a new structure while keeping the old ones alive.
When he was alone for a few minutes, he opened his small black notebook and wrote headings: Supermarket Conversion — Phases. New Branch — Location scout. Subsidy Pitch — Business model options. He let the options breathe.
Option A for the subsidy side business: Packaged dry goods — local snack production. He could set up a small unit to make roasted pulses and seasonal snacks, brand them, and sell them in his stores. The system's fifty-percent backing could cover initial machinery and packaging. Own production would lower per-unit cost, increase margin, and give a unique label to sell across Ashrock.
Option B: Cold-storage and packaging hub. Serve the shops and supply Kainat's kitchens with hygienic, temperature-controlled rations. This would be capital intensive but tie into his supply chain instantly, reduce spoilage, and permit small-scale cold goods resale.
Option C: Micro-manufacturing of staple blends — branded flour mixes, spice blends. Low tech, but requires good quality control and certification; a slow build but good margins.
He scribbled pros and cons: snacks could be marketed quick, but food manufacturing needed quality assurance and a small team. Cold storage was expensive but strategic; it would strengthen logistics and partnerships. The subsidy system's promise to fund fifty percent meant he would need to present clear numbers and projections: cost of machines, rent, staffing, break-even months, sales forecasts — and a contingency plan should things go wrong.
He imagined pitching to the system like mapping the future in neat ratios and graphs, but the system would only listen to logic and numbers. He thought about starting simple — a pilot line for snacks that used existing suppliers and could be scaled. It felt safer than a full cold-storage plant, though less transformative.
At home that night he told his father, vaguely, about renovation ideas and the need to scout for a nearby lot for the new branch. His father's eyes widened with excitement and the same careful worry his parents always wore. "Make sure the new branch is near schools or markets," his father advised. "Students and households are the steady crowd."
Sami barged into the conversation with grand plans for a play area in the supermarket. His little sister offered to design a "kids' corner" with drawings taped to the refrigerator. The family fussed over small details — paint color, the exact placement of the tea stall — unburdened by the system's cold precision. For them it was a future that looked like weekends and soft smiles; for Ashburn it was also projections and timelines. Both views fit comfortably in his chest.
That night, the system nudged again in the hush of his room.
[System Notification]
System Capital Allocated: 32 Lakh for current evaluation.
Recommendation: Submit detailed subsidy proposal within evaluation period. Phased expansion advised for flagship store conversion. Monitor risk thresholds: maintain liquidity ratio > X.
He read the words and felt that narrowed calm he always felt before action. The system's instructions were clinical — capital, recommendations, risk thresholds — and only he would carry them into the world as simple plans, not secret edicts.
He closed his notebook and wrote the first line under a heading: Subsidy Pitch — Pilot Snack Line. Then he added a smaller note: Supermarket — Phase 1: Design & procurement (2 weeks). Phase 2: Renovation & training (4 weeks). Phase 3: Soft launch & feedback (2 weeks). He split the thirty-two lakh mentally: about twelve lakh for renovation and equipment, eight lakh reserved for second branch and the rest as contingency and small vehicle upgrade.
He felt the gravity of it — responsibility crowding the edges, excitement burning at the center. Six months was not endless, but with careful pacing it was enough to do real, visible work.
"Step by step," he whispered to himself, folding the page closed.
Tomorrow he would sketch designs with Aisha, visit potential small factory spaces, and call Horizon to renegotiate bulk supplies for the supermarket. He would write the first draft of the subsidy pitch — clear, simple, numbers first, promise later.
Outside, the desert wind passed like a slow promise. He stood long enough to let it brush his face, then went in. The city carried on, unaware of the small, powerful plans being drawn in a quiet room. Only he held the map now — and the decision to make it real.