After hours of persistent negotiation, I finally secured an additional ten percent, raising my share of the revenue to forty percent.
As for my current contract
---
[Contract for Panda Convenience Store Manager]
Clause 1: The Host shall serve as Store Manager, bearing full responsibility for managing operations and selling products.
Clause 2: The Host shall work thirty-eight hours per day, with twelve hours of rest. Weekly holidays and festival leave are included.
Clause 3: The Host will receive 40% of revenue from all product sales; the remaining 60% will belong to the Boss.
Clause 4: Within the store, the Manager is completely invincible and cannot be harmed by any internal or external factors.
Clause 5: The Manager shall enjoy unlimited personal supplies to ensure comfort during work, provided they are not shared. Sharing requires personal payment.
Clause 6: The Manager is entitled to a one-hour break for every five hours worked.
Clause 7: The second floor of the convenience store is for Manager's personal use. No outsiders permitted.
---
My argument was simple and unshakable: as the system's host, I would be responsible for using my own resources to upgrade the facilities and expand the product line. That fact became my strongest bargaining chip, and in the end, the panda had no choice but to concede.
During this discussion, I also learned a crucial detail. The identification card hanging from my neck was not a mere accessory; it served as the system's core interface. Through it, I could access all operational functions—store management, product exchange, and even communication with customers.
The transaction process itself was elegantly simple:
First, a customer registers and receives an ID card.
Second, they convert their valuables into Panda Bills, the primary currency of this dimension.
Third, they purchase items from the store using those bills.
With that understood, it was time to prepare for business. I summoned the system interface from the card, activated my Manager Authority, and opened the available product catalog.
---
[Product List]
1. Crème Puff — 50 Panda Bills
2. Meat Bun — 100 Panda Bills
3. Coke — 100 Panda Bills
4. Milk — 50 Panda Bills
5. Mineral Water (1L) — 40 Panda Bills
6. Energy Bar — 70 Panda Bills
7. Omelette Sandwich — 200 Panda Bills
---
My gaze lingered on the list, but the reality was discouraging. The store's current balance amounted to 200 Panda Bills—and only half of that belonged to me. The remaining one hundred belonged to the panda, and he had already made it clear that those funds were untouchable.
"In other words," I murmured, tapping my chin thoughtfully, "I can afford only two products."
After a brief deliberation, I made my selection. "Crème Puffs and Mineral Water. Practical and inexpensive."
The moment my choice was confirmed, the shelves before me shimmered like a mirage. In an instant, rows of golden Crème Puffs appeared neatly arranged on one side, while bottles of crystal-clear water gleamed on the lowest rack of the beverage section.
I reviewed the details through the system:
Crème Puff: Base Cost — 0.3 Panda Bills
Mineral Water: Base Cost — 0.2 Panda Bills
What drew my attention most, however, were the additional effects:
Crème Puff: Restores minor stamina.
Mineral Water: Restores minor vitality.
The effects were minimal, yet undeniably valuable in the right situation. And yet... their current pricing was far too low.
A restorative product sold for less than a bills? Unacceptable.
With a few decisive adjustments, I revised the prices:
Crème Puff: 1 Panda Bill
Mineral Water: 1 Panda Bill
The increase was substantial, but more than justified. These were not mere snacks, they were consumables with real, tangible benefits.
I stepped back, taking in the sight of the newly stocked shelves. A strange sense of satisfaction welled up inside me, a feeling I had never experienced before.
"Perfect," I whispered, my voice calm but resolute.
Fortunately, restocking would never be a concern. The shelves replenished themselves endlessly, ensuring the store would never run out of products, a convenient feature worthy of its name.
With that, I turned toward the glass doors and declared softly, "It is time to open for business."
According to the system interface, all I needed to do to open for business was tap the glowing [Open] sign. Simple enough.
However, before flipping that switch, I wanted to confirm something important: Where exactly am I?
Curiosity tugged at me as I approached the glass doors. The moment I stepped close, they slid open automatically with a soft hiss. A small smile tugged at my lips.
"So this," I murmured, "is what convenience truly means."
The satisfaction lasted only an instant. The moment I took a single step beyond the threshold, a frigid gust slammed into me, sharp and merciless as a blade. My breath caught in my throat, and an uncontrollable shiver seized my body.
"What in the-?!" Without hesitation, I leapt back inside, letting the doors seal shut behind me. Warmth returned almost instantly, but my heart still pounded.
I exhaled slowly, hugging my arms around myself. "What kind of cursed winter wasteland is this? I'd freeze to death out there in seconds."
For now, venturing outside was out of the question. I returned to the counter, sinking into the chair with a heavy sigh. "Forget exploration. I'll just wait."
Glancing at the sleek terminal on the counter, I allowed myself a wry smile. "If this is going to take a while, I might as well make myself comfortable."
With a few taps, the screen flickered to life, revealing an array of entertainment options, games, movies, and web series from countless worlds. A little luxury amidst the absurdity of my situation.
Settling in, I whispered under my breath, "Until the first customer arrives... let's pass the time."