"Okay, no. This is seriously a problem."
Kairon slumped into a dusty old chair in the ruined study, hands gripping his head, eyes staring blankly at the floor.
"There's so much to do I don't even know where to start!"
He shouted at the cracked ceiling, like the moldy wooden beams were gonna give him advice.
The once-proud estate was a disaster—crumbling walls, a roof that cried during rain, barely any food, and servants who looked more depressed than loyal.
And worst of all?
He was broke.
"Why did I get isekai'd into this family…?" he groaned into his palms.
Suddenly, a system screen popped up.
> [New Quest: Establish Financial Stability]
Use your knowledge of economics to increase the household's monthly income.
Reward: Reputation +10 | Basic Resource Pack | Skill: Microtrade Tactics (Lv.1)
Kairon stared at the screen. "...Economics. They actually want me to use economics."
A slow grin spread across his face. "Fine. Let's treat this like a simulation game."
He stood, cracked his knuckles, and glanced at the ancient ledger on the table.
"Step one: assets. Step two: liabilities. Step three: make this dump profitable."
And just like that, the once-jobless man dragged into a fantasy mess began plotting the rise of House… wait, what was the name again?
He turned to the butler-looking dude standing in the corner, half-asleep.
"Hey, old guy. What's our family name again?"
"...Elshade, young master. House Elshade."
Kairon nodded. "Cool. Step four: make Elshade feared on the stock market—if that even exists here."
---
Kairon now stood in front of a big, round, two-story granary with an iron-reinforced door that looked like it belonged in a bank vault… for absolutely no reason.
"So you're telling me this building holds most of the food, but it's been locked shut by nobles who ran off?" He looked at Elira, the only guard who still acted like one.
"Yes," she said, hand on her sword, other on her hip.
"And none of you tried to open it?"
"Well… it's technically royal property."
Kairon blinked. "So's the rest of this estate. You think the dead nobles are gonna haunt us for opening their pantry?"
Elira clenched her jaw but stayed quiet.
He tapped the door with his knuckles. "This is our food now. What are they gonna do, sue us from exile?"
Kairon sighed.
Then, looked to Elira: "How sharp is that sword of yours?"
"Umm... I don't follow."
"Break the door." He pointed at it.
"Huh?"
"Huh?"
"HUH?"
Kairon rubbed his temples. "Why is everyone glitching today? I meant: hit the door with your big pointy stick until it opens."
She looked mildly offended. "It's a sword. A ceremonial, guard-issued longsword, thank you."
"And that," he jabbed a thumb at the granary, "is a big round pantry playing hard to get."
Elira looked between him and the door, sighed, then drew her blade with a dramatic shing.
"If this breaks my weapon, I'm blaming you."
"Cool. Add it to the complaint box. It's empty. Just like our stomachs will be if you don't swing."
With a deep breath, Elira charged, blade glowing faintly. A small mana burst exploded as her sword struck.
BOOM.
Smoke cleared. Her sword was snapped in half, and her hair looked like it had lost a duel with lightning.
Kairon clapped. "Nice! Door's open! And your hair's only slightly roasted!"
"Only my hair!?" she yelled, tossing the broken sword and grabbing his collar. "That sword was expensive! You think I bought it off a street vendor?!"
Kairon raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning.
"Alright, alright! I'll add 'Buy Elira a new sword' to the budget sheet, okay?"
"Budget sheet my ass. I'll budget your face if you don't—"
His smile faded. He grabbed her wrist, eyes serious. "Hey, No matter how friendly, I am still a royalty."
She froze, then let go. "...I apologize."
"Let's go. Sword's replaceable. Food isn't."
They entered the granary. It was massive—walls lined with packed bundles of grain. Enough to trade for ten new swords.
Kairon raised an eyebrow. "So, remind me again why this wasn't opened sooner?"
Elira didn't answer right away. She just followed behind him, her face a storm of frustration and shame.
Kairon walked between sacks of grain, trailing his fingers across them like he was window shopping.
"If we'd opened this earlier, half the staff wouldn't have bailed."
"We were told not to touch it," Elira finally muttered. "It was for the royal family only."
Kairon snorted. "The royal family ran. I'm the last guy here with two working legs and a brain cell. Guess that makes me fridge royalty now."
He stopped at a stack labeled Harvest Reserve – Year 521. Blew off the dust. Peeked inside.
Still good.
> [Elira's Loyalty has slightly increased.]
Kairon raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Loyalty points from food? This place is more RPG than real life."
"TR-what?"
"Nothing. You wouldn't get it."
He patted the grain sack. "Let's haul this out. Sell half."
"Sell it!? What about food for the people?"
"What people?"
She paused. "...Oh yeah. Most of them left."
---
Sitting on the cool-chair was none other than, the chancellor varn, who had thought the world was going to end.
Suddenly, the door opened like a goblin had tried to break it, though very similar, it was not a goblin. It was kairon, with a devilish smile.
"Chancellor varn! How have you been?"
"Huh? Lord? Umm... I've been good, I gue-"
"You won't be anymore. Get the f*ck up and go sell the grains." Kairon interrupted with a cute smile, which could almost fool anyone with what he had just said.
"What?" Varn brought his face a little closer, as if he hadn't heard it the first time.
"Don't 'what?' me! Make sure to sell it at atleast 10% more than the market price! Get up!"
He kept yelling, jolting varn left and right like a child wanting money from his parents. Except, this wasn't something one could refuse.
"B-but Lord, it's impossible to sell it at even 5%. How a-"
Kairon was about to yell again but silenced himself and begin thinking.
"You are right. A dumba** like you wont be able to."
Kairon clapped his hands together. "Alright then. Time to go full capitalism mode."
Varn blinked, confused. "What mode?"
"Doesn't matter." Kairon spun around and marched back toward the door. "Get me paper, ink, and a messenger hawk. I'm writing up a new marketing strategy."
Varn, still trying to process what the hell just happened, scrambled to follow. "M-Marketing? For grain?"
"Yeah," Kairon said without looking back. "We're not selling grain. We're selling Royal Elshade Blessed Premium Harvest™, aged in noble dust and sealed with ancient bureaucracy."
"...Is that even legal?"
"Legal? Varn, the royal family bailed. I am the law."
---
Three hours later, the local market square in the other city, called Durnholde, had a new stall.
A fancy tablecloth (stolen from the old banquet hall), two sacks of grain, and a handwritten sign that read:
> "House Elshade's Premium Noble Grain – LIMITED SUPPLY – Rich Taste, Richer History!"
Only 10 silvers a sack! Comes with free bragging rights!
People were already whispering.
"Did you hear? It's from Elshade."
"What? The almost-dead state?
"What does it matter? It's probably trash"
"Are you stupid? It's clearly written "premium". It's got to be the one nobles buy."
A man with a curly mustache and too many rings leaned over the stall, squinting at the grain like it was some kind of exotic artifact.
"Ten silvers? For this?" he sniffed. "That's robbery."
The stall vendor, a jittery man with a fake but enthusiastic uniform that read Royal Elshade Export Officer, recited from memory, "Sir, this is no ordinary grain. It's the last surviving stock from House Elshade's legendary 521 harvest—sun-dried, hand-sorted, and stored in a magically sealed noble granary."
"...Is that true?"
"Would the royal seal lie?" The man tapped a wax symbol slapped on the sack, still half-melted from being near a fireplace ten minutes ago.
The man's eyes widened. "I'll take two."
From across the street, a merchant narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Why are people buying Elshade grain?"
His assistant leaned in. "Rumor says it's blessed. The nobles apparently only ate this grain before battle or royal ceremonies. Some think it boosts stamina…"
"Stamina, you say?"
And just like that, a second buyer showed up. Then a third. Someone started haggling over the empty sack used for display.
By sunset, the stall was sold out. One guy even tried to trade a goat for future delivery.
Back in the ruined estate, Kairon reclined on a pile of old cushions, arms behind his head, watching the sun through a broken window.
A hawk flew in, dropped a scroll on his face, and left with an offended screech.
He unrolled it lazily.
> "All sacks sold. Demand increasing. One noble merchant wants exclusive rights to distribute. Awaiting orders." –Varn
Kairon smirked.
"Step five," he muttered. "Monopolize the grain market."
Then he sat up suddenly. "Wait, do we have any grain left?"
Elira, now in a loaned guard uniform two sizes too big, peeked through the door. "We might've oversold…"
Kairon stared. "You're telling me we just created hype, sold out our reserves, and now we have no actual product?"
She nodded. "But you said to sell half—then left for a nap."
"...Crap."