THE DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT
Chapter 82 - 81: Where Iron Meets Influence

Chapter 82: Chapter 81: Where Iron Meets Influence

Kael leaned forward slightly, his tone sharpening like a blade.

"You say you have evidence? Go ahead. Spread it. Tell them everything. The people of Ginip hated Red Morn. You think they’ll weep for a thug? No—Rather, my respect among the people will increase. And as for the Artificer? He left because he couldn’t keep up. I burned down his shop. Also, I do the same amount of business every day that he used to do in a month on Ginip. That means my contribution to the economy of ginip is more than that. Do you think anyone will take any action against me?"

He sat back in his chair, calm as still water.

"I’ve built something here. Real power. Real influence. And you want to scare me into handing it over? You called my goods revolutionary—you’re right. They are. But you made a mistake, Molvar."

He tilted his head.

"You thought a man who can create revolutions could be controlled like some back-alley smuggler."

Kael’s eyes were flint.

"I’m a merchant. But don’t mistake me for some soft-cloaked peddler. I’ve spilled blood. I’ve broken rivals. I’ve clawed my way into Ginip’s heart, and I’m not stopping here. If you want to talk business, then talk. But if you came here to threaten me?"

His voice dropped to a chilling whisper.

"Bring more than words."

Molvar’s grin had vanished.

A flicker of sweat traced the side of his face as silence wrapped around the room like a noose. Even the servants in the hallway seemed to sense the tension, going still behind the door.

Molvar leaned back slowly, folding his thick fingers together, his eyes scanning Kael with new weight.

Not as prey.

But as something far more dangerous.

♦♦♦

Kaelmart

Seris sat behind the U-shaped counter in the shop, while a handful of customers browsed the aisles, selecting their items.

Kael had been preoccupied with the soap factory and several other ventures for the past few days, leaving the responsibility of managing the shop entirely to her. She never complained—she never had—but the strain was beginning to show. Her eyes were tired, her back stiff, and her legs ached from moving constantly between shelves and displays.

And one thing made her task even more difficult.

The endless questions.

No matter how clearly Kael labeled the products, customers always came up to ask, "What is this? How do I use that? Is this magical? Will it poison me?"

As Seris was writing in the ledger, a man approached the counter, holding a wooden bucket filled with various items.

"Excuse me," he said politely. "Could you tell me about these products?"

Seris stood, offering a weary—but still warm—smile. "Of course."

She pulled out two items from the bucket—a steel plate and a matching drinking glass.

"These are for food and water," she explained, holding them up. "Sturdy, rust-resistant, and easy to clean."

The man turned them over in his hands, eyes widening. "They’re so thin... yet strong. And these edges—so smooth, so precise."

"They were made with great skill," Seris replied, allowing him to study the craftsmanship.

His brows furrowed. "I saw the price—twelve bronze coins. That can’t be right. You must have labeled it incorrectly."

"No. It’s correct," Seris confirmed.

The man let out a low whistle. "This should cost silver at the very least. Even a blacksmith’s apprentice couldn’t produce something so precise."

Seris simply smiled. Kael had instructed her not to explain their pricing logic unless necessary. Mystery added value.

Then the man lifted a glass bottle filled with amber liquid. "Is this wine?"

"No," Seris replied. "That’s Frooty Punch. It’s a fruit-based drink. Very sweet, best served chilled, and non-alcoholic. Think of it as juice, but far more refreshing."

The man gave it a cautious sniff. "It smells fruity... but strong. Like an alchemist’s concoction."

"It doesn’t spoil easily. And if you don’t like the taste," she added with a slight smile, "you may return it for a full refund."

His eyes widened. "A refund?"

"Yes. We stand by our products."

"Incredible. And this?" He held up another bottle, smaller but of similar design.

"That’s a perfume," Seris said, uncapping it. "It’s called Fogg. One spray lasts for four hours. It masks sweat and body odor."

She gave a quick mist into the air.

The man leaned in and sniffed. "That’s... wonderful. Is that mint I detect?"

"Exactly."

He grinned. "Pack all of it. Everything in the bucket."

"Of course."

Seris quickly tallied the items and recorded the sale in the ledger. The man paid without complaint, and she packed the goods into a cardboard carry-bag—yet another item that often drew curious stares.

As he left, Seris exhaled. That was the fourth time that day she had explained the same things.

No sooner had she leaned back and rubbed the base of her neck than the next customer arrived.

This one was a tall woman, pushing a custom-made wooden shopping cart stacked high with canned food, biscuits, and snack packs.

Seris recognized it immediately—Grondel’s handiwork, based on Kael’s design. It had wheels, handles, and even a simple brake lever, all carved from wood. It had become popular among bulk buyers.

"Oh wow," Seris said, stepping out from behind the counter. "That’s a lot of food."

"Yes. The ones I bought before are all gone... Hmm. I don’t see that boy around."

"You mean Master Kael?" Seris asked.

"Yes. About him—he has progressed swiftly. I once bought canned food from him when he was selling at a street stall. I returned weeks later, expecting the same stall—but found this instead."

Her gaze swept across the well-lit interior, the neatly labeled shelves. "A considerable expansion. Unexpected. Impressive."

Seris inclined her head. "Thank you."

The woman looked at her overflowing cart. "To be honest, I just grabbed everything from the food shelf. I only knew the canned goods, so I’d like to know more about the rest."

"Certainly," Seris said, stepping forward. She picked up a foil packet. "These are biscuits. Sweet and crunchy. Best with tea or milk."

"Chips," she continued, tapping another bag. "Thin-sliced fried potatoes. Salty. A good snack."

"Chocolates—these melt in your mouth. Children especially love them."

"And these bottles? Juice. Fruit-flavored. No alcohol, but rich in taste."

The woman examined each item with a thoughtful expression. "Do they taste like the canned food?"

"To be honest? Better."

"Well then," the woman smiled. "I’ll take all of it."

Seris nodded and began calculating.

"That will be 3 gold, 78 silver, 37 bronze, and five copper."

Without hesitation, the woman reached into her cloak and retrieved a leather pouch. She placed four gold coins on the counter.

"Keep the remainder," she said. "Your explanation was... efficient."

Seris blinked, momentarily surprised. "Thank you, Madam."

As she reached for the carry-bags, she paused. "Will you be able to carry all this alone?"

The woman merely smiled—cool.

"Unnecessary."

She raised a hand, and a ripple passed through the air beside her. With a faint crack, a shimmering oval portal appeared. Seris stared, speechless.

The woman casually picked up the cardboard bag and tossed it into the rift. It vanished instantly.

"W-was that... storage magic?" Seris asked, stunned.

"Yes. It is."

Seris blinked, still trying to process what she had seen.

"Wait..." she said slowly. "Are you..."

But the woman had already turned away. She waved politely. "Thanks again. I will return when the food is finished."

The portal shimmered and closed behind her.

Seris stood frozen, staring at the space where the rift had been.

"...Court mage level," she murmured. "Perhaps even higher."