[Ashburn's POV]
I sat alone at my desk that night, the soft hum of the ceiling fan the only sound breaking the stillness. Papers were scattered around me — drafts, lists, hand-written calculations, half-formed plans. It had become my habit lately. The day belonged to the market, the staff, the customers, the endless rhythm of ordering and stocking. The night… the night was mine — to think, to plan, to dream.
The Sixth evaluation was still ongoing, and every day felt heavier than the last. Managing the conversions for the first shop into a supermarket, finalizing the location for the third branch, keeping an eye on suppliers, staff, and budgets — everything was moving fast. But beneath all that motion, I felt something else growing — an urge to build something that truly carried my mark.
The system had once told me that after the fifth evaluation, I could propose a "subsidiary venture." A side business. At first, it sounded like a distraction. Now, sitting here surrounded by ledgers and invoices, it felt like the next step in my journey.
I tapped my pen against the notebook, staring at the words I had written:
"Packaged Dry Goods — Local Snack Production."
The idea had been living quietly in my mind for weeks. Our customers loved the roasted pulses we sold from the open jars, the spiced lentils, the seasonal dried fruits. Every time I scooped them into small plastic bags, I thought, Why not make them my own? Why not turn something ordinary into something branded — something that says Khan Mart even before the logo is read?
I began writing again, sketching rough outlines — a small unit, two sealing machines, one roasting setup, and a few workers from the local area. Start small, keep the process clean, the branding simple — brown paper packaging, clean fonts, local touch. A name floated into my head: "Khan's Select." It sounded right. Something trustworthy, traditional, yet proud.
The plan made sense. The margins in packaged goods were better, and the control would be mine. We could start selling in our own stores first, test the response, and later expand. The numbers came next — machinery, raw materials, labeling, rent for a small unit on the outskirts. It totaled around ten lakh. I could afford half of it myself.
I leaned back, exhaling deeply. "Five from me… five from the system," I murmured, feeling that familiar mix of tension and excitement. My heart was beating fast, not out of fear — but out of recognition. It felt like the same night I had dared to imagine my first branch.
With a steady breath, I closed my eyes and whispered, "System, I have a proposal."
A faint chime echoed in my head — soft, mechanical, but familiar enough to calm my nerves.
[System Notification]
Side Business Proposal Detected.
Project Title: Packaged Dry Goods — Local Snack Production.
Proposed Investment: 1,000,000 PKR.
Personal Investment: 500,000 PKR Confirmed.
System Investment: 500,000 PKR Pending Evaluation.
Assessing feasibility...
Seconds stretched into silence. I could almost feel the hum of my heart matching the rhythm of the unseen processing sound that filled the space in my mind. Then came the voice again — steady, composed, unfeeling yet strangely reassuring.
[System Evaluation Complete]
Proposal: Approved.
System Investment: 500,000 PKR Granted.
Remarks: "Concept demonstrates initiative and potential for vertical integration. Maintain profitability and quality control. Caution — subsidiary ventures will be evaluated alongside the main enterprise during upcoming evaluations. No independent re-evaluation will occur."
Additional Note: "Ashburn retains full ownership of profits and capital use from this subsidiary until final evaluation. Maintain operational discipline. Deviation or consistent losses may affect overall performance rating."
The notification faded, leaving behind a strange stillness. I opened my eyes and let out a long, slow breath. My palms were damp, though the room wasn't hot. I hadn't realized I was nervous until that moment.
So that was it. Approved. Real.
I turned back to my papers and stared at the words again — Khan's Select. A small smile crept across my lips. I could already imagine it: neat brown packets on the shelves, labeled with a clean golden logo, carrying the pride of our family name.
Still, the caution in the system's tone lingered. There would be no second evaluation for this. It would grow or collapse along with the main business. It was risky — maybe too risky — but that was the point. Growth never came without a step into uncertainty.
I thought about how far I'd come — from sitting behind the counter of a small corner shop to now planning my own brand. The memory of those early mornings and late nights, the countless times I'd counted the same cash twice because it barely filled the tray, the frustration of customers who doubted the store's reliability — all of it came rushing back.
And now, this.
For the first time in a long while, I felt a quiet sense of pride. Not the loud kind that comes from applause or recognition, but the kind that whispers, You're doing it. Slowly, but you're doing it.
The door creaked open softly. Aisha peeked in, her hair tied loosely, eyes half-asleep. "You're still working?"
I smiled faintly. "Almost done."
She walked in and looked at the desk. "You've been writing since evening."
"I had to prepare something important," I said, shifting the papers slightly so she wouldn't see too much. I wasn't ready to share the system's details with anyone — not even her.
She studied me quietly, then nodded. "You'll burn yourself out one day," she said softly, though her tone carried no scolding — only worry.
"I know," I replied, my voice gentle. "But sometimes, you have to keep walking before the path disappears."
She smiled, placed a hand on my shoulder, and whispered, "Then don't disappear with it."
After she left, I sat there again, looking at the faint trace of her perfume in the air. I turned my gaze back toward the shelves of the store visible through the glass partition. Rows of rice bags, sugar sacks, lentils in open jars, packets of snacks from other brands — all neatly arranged, yet none of them mine.
But soon, maybe one of them would be.
I reached for the pen again and underlined the name Khan's Select twice.
"This time," I whispered, "it won't just be about selling. It'll be about creating."
Outside, the night was quiet, and the neon light from the store's sign flickered faintly against the windowpane. It wasn't a grand beginning, but it was a beginning nonetheless.
Somewhere deep inside, I could almost hear the system's final whisper fading like static —
[Progress — Side Business Initialized. Monitoring Phase Active.]
I smiled faintly, closed the notebook, and leaned back. Tomorrow would come early. But tonight, for the first time in months, I allowed myself to simply sit and breathe — to feel the quiet pride of a man who had just taken another small, daring step toward his dream.