The next morning brought the familiar routine of breakfast in the cramped dining room. Sister Agnes stirred a pot of porridge over the fire, the thick mixture bubbling with an unappetizing plop. When she ladled it into Darren's wooden bowl, he stared down at the gray, lumpy mass and felt his stomach clench.
The porridge was bland beyond description—just boiled grain and water with no sweetening, no salt, nothing to make it palatable. As he forced himself to eat, Darren realized something that should have been obvious: there had been no sugar in any meal since he'd arrived. Not just no sugar—no sweeteners of any kind. Kael's memories confirmed it. The boy had never tasted anything truly sweet in his entire short life.
"How do they live like this?" he wondered, taking another reluctant spoonful.
"Sugar was a luxury commodity for most of human history, User," the AI replied in his mind. "Before industrial refining processes, sugar was available only to the wealthy. Most people relied on honey when they could get it, or simply went without sweeteners entirely."
Darren paused mid-bite, struck by the realization. In his previous life, he'd taken sugar for granted—in his coffee, in processed foods, in desserts. Even the cheapest synthetic meals had been flavored and sweetened. He'd never appreciated what a profound luxury that represented.
As he looked around the table at the other children eating their flavorless porridge without complaint, he began to understand just how privileged his old life had been. Clean water from a tap, food with actual flavor, a bed to himself, climate control, instant access to information—things he'd considered basic necessities had actually been incredible luxuries by the standards of most human history.
Sister Marta approached with a concerned expression. "How are you feeling today, Kael? Any dizziness or weakness?"
"I'm fine," Darren replied, though his voice came out smaller than he intended.
"Good. But remember what I said—no manual labor. Your body isn't built for that kind of work."
Sister Agnes looked up sharply from where she was serving the other children. "Marta, you're being too easy on him. He needs to contribute like the rest of the children. We can't afford to have anyone who doesn't pull their weight."
The stern sister's words hit Darren like a physical blow. He felt heat rise in his cheeks as the other children glanced in his direction. She was right, of course. In a place where survival depended on everyone contributing, he was just another mouth to feed.
"Agnes, he collapsed yesterday," Sister Marta said firmly. "Would you have us work him until he dies? That helps no one."
"I'm not saying work him to death. I'm saying find him work he can do. There are always tasks that need doing—sorting supplies, mending clothes, watching the younger children. Coddling him won't make him stronger."
Darren stared down at his porridge, guilt gnawing at his insides. Sister Agnes wasn't being cruel—she was being practical. Resources were limited, and everyone had to earn their keep somehow.
"I'll find ways to help," he said quietly. "I promise."
Sister Marta gave him an encouraging smile, but Sister Agnes just grunted and returned to her work.
Later, alone in his small room, Darren lay on his straw mattress and stared at the wooden beams above. The conversation at breakfast had driven home a harsh reality: he couldn't just coast by on sympathy and his frail constitution. He needed to find a way to contribute, to prove his worth, or he'd become a burden that the orphanage couldn't afford to carry.
"AI," he thought, "I need to change my circumstances. But I don't know where to start."
"The first step in any strategic planning process is information gathering, User. You need to understand the economic and social systems operating in this environment before you can identify opportunities for advancement."
Darren nodded to himself. "You're right. I need to learn everything I can about this world, and then figure out how to use your knowledge base to create value."
"A sound approach. Shall we begin with what you can observe directly?"
The next day, Darren asked Sister Marta if he could walk through the village. She agreed, reminding him not to overexert himself, and he set out to conduct his first systematic survey of his new world.
The market square was the heart of village economic activity, though calling it a "square" was generous. It was more of a widened section of the main dirt road where vendors had set up simple wooden stalls or spread their wares on blankets. Darren walked slowly through the area, observing everything with the careful attention of someone conducting market research.
The currency system was copper-based, he noted. Small copper coins changed hands for most transactions, with the occasional silver piece for larger purchases. No one seemed to use gold, suggesting it was either extremely rare or reserved for transactions far above this village's economic level.
The pricing patterns were revealing. Vegetables and fruits were relatively cheap—turnips, onions, apples, and root vegetables that could be grown locally. Grain products like bread and porridge were moderately priced. But meat was expensive, clearly a luxury item. A single chicken cost more than a family's worth of vegetables.
The clothing for sale was uniformly rough and practical—coarse wool, simple leather, basic cotton in drab colors. No one seemed to have access to dyes that could produce vibrant hues, and the craftsmanship was purely functional rather than decorative.
"This is a subsistence economy," Darren observed silently. "Most people are barely producing enough to survive, with little surplus for trade or improvement."
"Correct, User. Such economies offer limited opportunities for advancement, but they also mean that anyone who can produce higher quality goods or services will face little competition."
That was the key insight. In a world where most people were struggling just to get by, anyone who could offer something better—tastier food, higher quality goods, more efficient services—would have a significant advantage.
But Darren faced a fundamental problem: he had no resources. No money, no tools, no materials to work with. He needed to start with something that required minimal investment but could generate enough return to fund larger ventures.
The answer came to him as he walked past the orphanage garden where the other children were working. Plants. Seeds. He could grow his own crops, separate from the communal garden, and sell the surplus.
"AI, can you access information about agricultural techniques? Crop rotation, fertilization, pest control?"
"Extensive agricultural knowledge is available in my database, User. I can provide guidance on soil preparation, optimal planting techniques, natural fertilizers, and crop management."
Darren felt a surge of excitement. This could work. He might not be able to do heavy manual labor, but with the AI's guidance, he could apply advanced agricultural knowledge to produce higher-quality crops than anyone else in the village.
He began that afternoon, gathering seeds wherever he could find them. Some came from vegetables served at meals—he carefully extracted and dried seeds from turnips, onions, and other root vegetables. Others he found in the communal garden, selecting the best specimens from the plants already growing there. He focused particularly on grains, knowing they would provide the most nutritional value and had good storage properties.
Behind the orphanage, away from the main garden, Darren found a patch of unused ground. The soil was poor and rocky, but it would have to do. Following the AI's guidance, he began preparing the earth, removing stones and breaking up the compacted dirt with a sharp stick.
"The soil needs organic matter for proper nutrient content," the AI advised. "The most readily available fertilizer would be the waste from the toilet pits."
Darren grimaced. Using human waste as fertilizer wasn't appealing, but he understood the necessity. Holding his breath and trying not to think about what he was doing, he collected material from the waste pits and worked it into the soil.
The planting process was methodical. The AI guided him through proper seed spacing, planting depth, and row organization. He arranged the crops to maximize sunlight exposure and minimize competition between plants. It was exhausting work for Kael's frail body, but Darren paced himself carefully, taking frequent breaks to avoid another collapse.
Every day, he tended his small garden plot. He watered the plants with carefully rationed water, pulling weeds that threatened to choke out his crops, and monitoring for signs of disease or pest damage. The AI's knowledge proved invaluable—it could identify problems before they became serious and suggest natural remedies using materials available in the village.
Within two weeks, his efforts began to show results. Green shoots pushed up through the soil, growing stronger and more robust than the plants in the communal garden. The AI's guidance on optimal nutrition and care was producing visibly superior crops.
One day, as Darren was carefully watering his plants, one of the orphan girls approached. She was about his age, with brown hair and curious dark eyes. From Kael's memories, he knew her name was Lily.
"What are you doing back here?" she asked, tilting her head to study his garden plot.
"Farming," Darren replied simply.
"But why not just plant in the main garden with everyone else?"
"I didn't want to disturb the other plants. This way, I can try different techniques without affecting the food everyone depends on."
Lily looked puzzled. "It's strange seeing you outside so much. You usually just stay in your room."
That was true. Kael had been a withdrawn child, preferring solitude to the rough games of the other orphans. "I wanted to try something new," Darren said.
"Can I help?" Lily asked. "I like working in the garden, and your plants look different somehow. Healthier."
Darren considered the offer. Having help would make the work easier, and Lily seemed genuinely interested rather than just curious. "Yes, I'd like that."
Working together, they made faster progress. Lily was stronger than Kael's body and could handle the more physically demanding tasks, while Darren provided guidance based on the AI's agricultural knowledge. He taught her about proper watering techniques, how to identify beneficial insects versus pests, and optimal harvesting timing.
The months that followed established a routine. Every day, Darren and Lily would spend time tending their small garden plot. Darren was careful not to reveal too much about his advanced knowledge, presenting his insights as lucky guesses or things he'd "heard somewhere." But gradually, their crops grew into the healthiest, most robust plants anyone in the village had seen.
When harvest time came, the results were spectacular. The vegetables were larger, more colorful, and clearly fresher than anything in the main garden. Sister Marta was stunned when Darren showed her the produce.
"Kael, these are incredible! How did you manage this?"
"I just tried some different techniques," Darren said modestly. "Do you think we could sell them at the market?"
Sister Marta examined the vegetables carefully, her eyes widening at their quality. "These are better than anything I've seen the villagers growing. Yes, I think we could definitely sell them."
Darren selected the best specimens from his harvest, choosing varieties he knew would be in demand based on his market observations. He made sure to pick as much as possible—in a subsistence economy, quantity mattered as much as quality.
The next market day, Sister Marta accompanied him to the village square. Instead of setting up a stationary stall, Darren suggested they walk around showing the produce to potential customers.
"Let people see the quality," he explained. "Once they notice how much better these look, they'll want to buy them."
The strategy worked perfectly. As they moved through the market, villagers couldn't help but notice Darren's vegetables. They were visibly fresher, larger, and more appealing than the competition. Within an hour, they had sold everything they'd brought.
"I can't believe how quickly that went," Sister Marta said as they counted their earnings. "You've done something wonderful here, Kael."
She handed him a few copper coins—his share of the profits. It wasn't much money by any standard, but it represented something far more important: proof that his approach could work.
"Thank you, Sister Marta."
"No, thank you. This could make a real difference for the orphanage."
Walking home, Darren felt a surge of satisfaction. But he also knew this was just the beginning. The money they'd made today was small—even if they continued selling every day, it wouldn't dramatically change their circumstances. But it was capital, and capital could be leveraged into larger opportunities.
Over the next two weeks, he and Sister Marta returned to the market regularly, selling the remainder of his harvest. Each day brought a small profit, which Darren carefully saved. When his produce was finally exhausted, he had accumulated enough copper coins for the next phase of his plan.
Instead of immediately replanting for another vegetable harvest, Darren had a different idea. He took his accumulated earnings and visited the market, purchasing flour, eggs, oil, and two precious apples.
Then he approached the village's baker, a weathered woman named Martha who operated a small bread shop near the market square.
"Excuse me," Darren said politely. "Could I use your furnace? I'll pay you for the privilege."
Martha looked down at the small boy with amusement. "What could you possibly need to bake, child?"
"Bread," Darren replied. "But different from what you make."
The woman's expression shifted to skepticism, but the promise of easy money was appealing. "How much will you pay?"
Darren offered half of his remaining coins, leaving him just enough to buy the materials he needed. Martha shrugged and accepted.
Under the AI's guidance, Darren began his work. First, he ground the apples into a fine paste, creating a natural sweetener that would substitute for the sugar this world lacked. Then he began mixing his dough, incorporating techniques that wouldn't be discovered in this world for centuries.
Martha watched with growing bewilderment as Darren worked. "What are you doing to that dough, boy? That's not how bread is made."
"Just trying something different," Darren replied, focusing on the AI's instructions.
The kneading technique was crucial—developing the gluten properly to create a lighter, more appealing texture. The apple paste was distributed evenly throughout the dough, providing subtle sweetness that would be a revelation to palates accustomed to bland food. The baking temperature and timing were precisely calibrated for optimal results.
As the bread baked, an incredible aroma filled the small shop. Martha's eyes widened as the smell grew stronger—nothing she had ever produced smelled this good.
When Darren finally removed the loaves from the oven, they were perfect. Golden brown, with an appealing crust and an aroma that made mouth water. They looked like something from a professional bakery in his old world.
Martha stared at the finished product in disbelief. "How did you do that?"
Darren gave a vague answer about trying different ingredients and techniques. The woman looked skeptical, but when he offered to let her taste a small piece, she couldn't refuse.
The moment the bread touched her tongue, Martha's expression changed completely. Her eyes went wide, and she made a small sound of amazement.
"This is..." She struggled for words. "This is incredible. I've never tasted anything like it."
"Would you like more?" Darren asked innocently.
"Yes! How much do you want for a loaf?"
"Oh, I'm not selling these ones. They're for dinner at the orphanage. But if you want more, you'll have to pay for them."
Martha's face fell, but she nodded understanding. Darren carefully wrapped his loaves and headed home, leaving the baker staring after him with a mixture of admiration and frustration.
That evening at dinner, Darren presented his bread to the assembled orphans and sisters. The reaction was immediate and profound. The children, accustomed to flavorless food, were stunned by the sweet, complex flavor of properly made bread.
"Kael, where did you buy this?" Sister Marta asked, her eyes wide with amazement.
"I made it," Darren replied simply.
The room fell silent. Every face turned toward him with expressions of disbelief.
Sister Agnes snorted dismissively. "Don't lie to us, boy. Children don't make bread like this."
Darren didn't argue. He simply shrugged and continued eating, letting the quality of his work speak for itself.
Sister Marta placed a calming hand on her colleague's arm. "Agnes, whether he made it or bought it, it's wonderful. Let's just enjoy it."
The next morning, Martha appeared at the orphanage door, looking somewhat embarrassed but determined.
"Is the boy Kael here?" she asked Sister Marta. "I need to speak with him."
When Darren appeared, Martha looked down at him with a mixture of respect and desperation.
"Can you make more of that bread you made yesterday? I tried to recreate it myself, but I just wasted ingredients. My customers are asking about the smell from yesterday—they want to know when I'll have bread that smells that good again."
Darren considered the request. This was the opportunity he'd been hoping for—a chance to monetize his knowledge on a regular basis.
"I can help you," he said. "But I'll need to be paid for my work."
Martha looked reluctant, but nodded. "Fine. But only if the bread tastes as good as yesterday's."
"It will," Darren assured her.
And so began Darren's career as an undercover baker. Every day, he would go to Martha's home and produce loaves that sold out almost immediately. The villagers had never tasted anything like his bread—the subtle sweetness, the perfect texture, the incredible aroma that filled the shop during baking.
Most people assumed Martha had suddenly improved her skills, and Darren was content to let them think so. He didn't want too much attention focused on him yet. Better to work quietly in the background, building his reputation and resources without attracting unwanted scrutiny.
As his confidence grew, Darren began experimenting with other baked goods. Muffins made with local berries and his apple-paste sweetener became an instant hit. Scones that incorporated nuts and dried fruits were so popular that people began visiting the bakery specifically to see what new treats might be available.
Martha's business boomed. Customers came from neighboring villages to try the miraculous baked goods that everyone was talking about. The baker woman was happy to take credit for the success, and Darren received a steady income that far exceeded what he could have made selling vegetables.
But as his small empire grew, Darren found himself facing new challenges. The local ingredients were limited, and he craved access to spices and flavorings that could elevate his creations even further. He needed to find suppliers who could provide materials not available in this small village.
More importantly, he needed to start thinking about his long-term strategy. Baking was profitable, but it was still small-scale. If he truly wanted to change his circumstances—and perhaps the circumstances of everyone at the orphanage—he would need to think bigger.
Standing in Martha's stall, watching villagers eagerly purchase his latest batch of sweet rolls, Darren smiled to himself. It was a modest beginning, but it was a beginning nonetheless. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt like he was truly moving forward instead of just surviving.
The question now was: what would his next move be?