Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, cutting across Ashburn's desk like golden threads. The ledger lay open, the numbers from last night staring back at him like a dare.
He sipped his tea and muttered, "Well, here goes nothing."
Sami poked his head in, hair still a mess. "You talking to your book again?"
"Yes," Ashburn said. "At least it doesn't interrupt with bad jokes."
"That's because it's scared of my charm," Sami said, grinning as he snatched a biscuit.
"Charm?" Ashburn raised a brow. "Is that what we're calling unpaid debt these days?"
Their mother's voice floated from the kitchen. "Stop bickering and have breakfast properly, you two."
Ashburn smiled faintly. Her tone hadn't changed since childhood — calm yet commanding. It grounded him, reminding him why he worked so hard.
He grabbed his bag. "We're going to Bahawal Market again."
Sami blinked. "Again? You love that place more than me."
"It's mutual," Ashburn replied. "At least it gives me better deals."
---
The road buzzed with life — rickshaws honking, bikes weaving, the air thick with dust and the smell of fried parathas. Sami hummed tunelessly behind him on the bike.
"Bro," he shouted over the wind, "if we get a big deal today, can we celebrate with biryani?"
Ashburn smirked. "If you negotiate a single rupee off the price, we'll order two plates."
"Challenge accepted," Sami said, tightening his grip dramatically like a movie hero.
By the time they reached Bahawal Market, the morning crowd was already in motion — trucks unloading, shopkeepers shouting rates, the sound of commerce humming like an orchestra.
Ashburn parked near Hussain Distribution & Sons and took a deep breath.
"Alright. Let's not mess this up."
"Define 'mess up,'" Sami said innocently.
"Anything that involves you talking for more than thirty seconds," Ashburn replied.
---
Inside, the same middle-aged man from before — Mr. Hussain — greeted them with a polite nod.
"Ah, Khan Sahib. Back already. That's a good sign."
Ashburn smiled. "You could say I'm an optimist. Or desperate."
The man chuckled. "Desperation makes for good deals. So, what have you decided?"
Ashburn took a slow breath. "I'll take the offer. But first… I want to verify a few things."
Hussain raised a brow. "Of course. Ask away."
This was where Ashburn's skills came in — quietly, invisibly, like instincts honed over years.
He brushed his fingers over a box of detergent stacked nearby. Instantly, faint text shimmered in his vision — [Authentic Product – Verified Batch: 2025-Q3].
He moved to the next item, subtle as ever. [Expiry: 7 months – Genuine Brand Seal Present].
Good. So far, so real.
Finally, as he spoke to Hussain again, he let his Truth Sense hum faintly beneath the surface — like tuning a radio to human intent.
Hussain said, "We maintain direct connections with three factories. Deliveries are always on time, and no hidden charges."
No flicker. No tremor. The man was telling the truth.
Ashburn nodded. "I appreciate honesty. Not easy to find in business."
Hussain smiled. "Honesty pays slower, but lasts longer."
Sami leaned forward. "Speaking of paying slower… about that one-point-five lakh minimum—"
Ashburn shot him a glare so sharp it could cut metal.
"—which we totally respect," Sami finished quickly. "Just curious if that includes free delivery."
The supplier chuckled. "I like your brother's spirit. Tell you what — I'll reduce delivery charges for the first month. A goodwill start."
Ashburn blinked. "That's… actually generous."
"Consider it a partnership gesture," Hussain said, offering his hand.
Ashburn shook it. "Deal."
---
Outside, Sami stretched dramatically. "So… biryani time?"
Ashburn rolled his eyes. "Let me survive the invoice first."
They found a small dhaba nearby, the kind with plastic chairs and the best-smelling food in the city. Steam rose from fresh karahi as they sat down.
Sami leaned back, grinning. "You did it, bro. New supplier, better deal, less headache."
Ashburn chuckled. "For now. The real test starts when the first shipment arrives."
He sipped his lassi, letting the cool taste calm his nerves.
Sami watched him for a moment. "You know, you've changed."
Ashburn raised a brow. "For the worse?"
"Nah," Sami said. "You just… think before every move now. Like a chess player. Or a politician."
Ashburn smirked. "If I start giving speeches, slap me."
"Oh, don't tempt me."
They laughed, the sound blending with the noise of the market — the chatter, the clatter, the never-ending rhythm of people surviving one day at a time.
---
That evening, they returned home exhausted but hopeful.
Their mother smiled when she saw them. "You both look like you fought a war."
Sami collapsed on the sofa. "We did. A war of invoices and discounts."
Ashburn placed the new contract on the table. "But we won."
His mother looked proud — a small smile that carried years of quiet prayers.
As night fell, Ashburn reviewed the deal one more time, checking every clause twice.
Everything seemed fine. Professional. Transparent.
Still, a small thought nagged at him — something about how the old supplier had gone silent too easily. No excuses, no argument, just… disappeared.
But he pushed it aside. "One problem at a time," he muttered.
He looked at the Fortune Ledger again.
> [Progress: 32%]
[Evaluation Time Remaining: 33 Days]
[System Note: Growth often begins where comfort ends.]
Ashburn smiled faintly. "You're late, but at least you're poetic now."
He closed the ledger, leaned back, and let out a long breath.
Outside, the wind carried the smell of rain — the kind that promised renewal.
Tomorrow, new stock would arrive.
Tomorrow, the shelves would fill again.
And tomorrow—
His phone buzzed. A new message flashed from an unknown number:
> "Cancel your new supplier deal if you value your store."
Ashburn froze. The screen dimmed, but his pulse didn't.
Sami shouted from the other room, "Bro, biryani's here!"
Ashburn didn't answer. He just stared at the phone, the words echoing in his head.
The smile faded from his face. "So… it begins."