Victor walked along the path leading to town. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained overcast. Farmland stretched out on either side of the road, where several tenant farmers worked. They bowed respectfully to Victor, but their eyes held a hint of doubt and unease.
"Young Master," one of them called out, "Where are you going?"
Victor stopped. "To town."
"It's so late…" the tenant farmer hesitated. "The road isn't safe. Perhaps old Jack could accompany you?"
Victor shook his head. "No need. I'll be back soon."
The tenant farmers exchanged glances, ultimately giving up. They watched Victor's retreating figure, whispering amongst themselves. In their eyes, Victor was a frail young master who never left the manor. His sudden decision to go to town was truly strange.
Victor ignored them. He walked, observing his surroundings. Agricultural technology in this world was primitive; the tenant farmers still used wooden plows and hoes. The land was barren, and the crops were stunted. All of this confirmed Emma's words—a poor harvest meant difficulty paying taxes.
After walking for about half an hour, Victor finally saw the outline of a small town. The town was small, with only a few streets and low, simple houses. Few pedestrians were on the streets; a few vendors were packing up, clearly the day's business was over.
Victor entered a general store. The owner, a plump middle-aged man, was sitting behind the counter doing accounts. Seeing Victor enter, he looked up, a hint of impatience on his face: "Almost closing time, what do you want to buy?"
"I want to buy grease," Victor said.
"Grease?" The owner paused, then pointed to several large wooden barrels in the corner. "Lard, three copper coins a pound."
Victor walked over and lifted the lid of a barrel. The grease inside was white and smooth, of good quality. He grabbed a piece, smelled it; there was no unpleasant odor.
"I want ten pounds," Victor said.
"Ten catties?" The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. "Do you have the money?"
Victor pulled five silver coins from his pocket—the ones he'd found in his clothes when he woke up. He didn't know who'd left them for him, but this money was now his start-up capital.
"Thirty copper coins, right?" Victor asked.
The shopkeeper took the silver coins, bit them to confirm they were genuine, and then nodded: "Yes, thirty copper coins. I'll pack them for you."
He took a cloth bag from the storeroom and began weighing the grease. Victor stood beside him, watching his skillful operation. The units of measurement in this world were similar to those in his previous life; one catty was approximately 500 grams. Ten catties was 5 kilograms, enough to make the first batch of soap.
"Is there anything else you want to buy?" the shopkeeper asked.
Victor thought for a moment and said, "Do you sell wood ash here?"
"Wood ash?" The shopkeeper paused, "What do you need that for?"
"To...to make something," Victor said.
The shopkeeper shook his head. "No. But there's an ash pit behind the blacksmith's shop; you should have some there. Go get it yourself if you want."
Victor nodded, picked up the cloth bag full of grease, and left the general store. The bag was heavy, making his hands ache, but he didn't mind. Following the shopkeeper's directions, he went to the back of the blacksmith's shop and indeed saw an ash pit filled with black wood ash.
He took out his small knife, cut a piece of rag, and made a simple filter. Then he put the wood ash into the filter, poured in water, and slowly collected the ash water. This process was time-consuming, but he didn't give up. He knew that the alkali in this ash water was the key to making soap.
After about an hour, Victor finally collected enough ash water. He put the ash water into a wooden bucket, picked up the grease and ash water, and started walking back.
It was completely dark, and the streets of the town were deserted. Victor walked in the darkness, feeling a little nervous. This world was not safe; there might be robbers or wild beasts on the road. But he told himself he couldn't be afraid; he had to complete this task.
The return journey was more difficult than the way there. The road was muddy after the rain, and the weight of the buckets and sacks made every step a struggle. His back ached, and his legs felt like lead. But he gritted his teeth and didn't stop.
Finally, at midnight, Victor returned to the manor.
Emma was waiting for him at the door. Seeing him return carrying so much, she rushed to greet him: "Young master, you...you bought so much stuff?"
"To make soap," Victor said. "Emma, help me carry these to the kitchen."
Emma hesitated for a moment, but nodded nonetheless. She helped Victor carry the grease bag, while Victor carried the lye bucket himself, and the two went to the kitchen.
The kitchen was a simple stone hut with a large stove in the center and piles of firewood and wood around it. Victor placed the grease on the stove, poured the lye into an iron pot, and then started a fire.
"Young Master, are you really going to...make soap?" Emma asked skeptically. "Do you even know how?"
"I learned a little before," Victor said. "I should be able to."
He lit the firewood and placed the iron pot on the fire. The grease melted slowly in the pot, emitting a faint, meaty smell. Victor stirred the grease, waiting for it to melt completely. Then, he slowly poured the lye water into the pot, stirring constantly.
The grease and lye water reacted, producing a lot of foam. Victor continued stirring until the foam disappeared and the liquid became viscous. He smelled it; it had a faint oily smell, but it wasn't strong.
"That's it," Victor said. "Heat it a little longer, then pour it into the molds."
Emma found several wooden molds, and Victor poured the soap mixture into them, setting them aside to cool.
"How long will it take?" Emma asked.
"About a day," Victor said. "It'll be ready to use tomorrow."
Emma nodded and began cleaning the stove. Victor sat in his chair, looking at the several molds of soap, a glimmer of hope in his heart. If successful, this would be the beginning of his first pot of gold.
"Young Master," Emma suddenly said, "You...you have a plan?"
Victor looked up and saw the worry in Emma's eyes. He smiled and said, "Yes. I want to save this family."
Emma sighed, "Young Master, I know you want to help the family, but...but this world is cruel. We are just minor nobles on the fringes, without strength, without influence. To turn things around...it's too difficult."
"I know," Victor said, "but if I don't try, I'll never know."
Emma looked at him and finally nodded, "Alright, Young Master, I support you."
The next morning, Victor eagerly went to the kitchen. The soap had solidified. He carefully unmolded it, obtaining several pale yellow solids. He touched them; they were hard and somewhat oily.
"It's done," Victor said.
He picked up a bar of soap, went into the yard, and found a small bucket. He soaked the soap in the water, rubbed it, and lathered it up quickly. He washed his hands and found them clean, with little oily smell.
"This...this really washes things?" Emma asked in surprise.
"Of course," Victor said, "It can wash clothes, and it can also be used to wash hands and bathe."
Emma was skeptical, picked up a bar of soap, and smelled it: "The smell is a little..."
"I know, but this is the best it can be," Victor said. "We can do even better when we have more resources."
He packed the remaining soap into a cloth bag. Then he said to Emma, "Emma, I'm going to town again."
"Now?" Emma looked at the sky. "It's still raining outside."
"It's alright," Victor said. "I have to sell these soaps quickly."
Emma hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded in agreement: "Then be careful."
Victor picked up the bag of soap and left the manor. The rain was heavier than yesterday, and the roads were even muddier. He took a deep breath and set off for town.
He first went to the general store and placed the soap on the counter: "Boss, take a look at this."
The boss picked up a bar of soap, looked at it, and smelled it: "This is... soap?"
"Yes," Viktor said, "made with grease and wood ash, it can be used to wash clothes and hands."
The boss raised an eyebrow: "How's the quality?"
Viktor didn't answer, but walked to the bucket next to him, picked up the soap, and demonstrated. The lather was rich, and the cleaning effect was excellent; the boss's eyes lit up.
"This... this is good," the boss said, "How much is it?"
Viktor hesitated for a moment, then said, "Two copper coins."
"Two copper coins?" The boss's eyes widened. "How much does it cost to make?"
Viktor smiled: "What do you think the cost is?"
The boss was stumped. He didn't actually know the cost of making the soap, but he knew the price was definitely lower than its value.
"Alright," said the shopkeeper, "I'll buy ten."
"Twenty," said Viktor, "This is my first batch; I want to test the market."
The shopkeeper thought for a moment, then nodded: "Okay, twenty. Forty copper coins."
Viktor took the copper coins, his heart leaping with joy. Forty copper coins were equivalent to one-tenth of four silver coins. His cost was only thirty copper coins. A net profit of ten copper coins, a profit margin of 33%.
"Are there any other shops?" Viktor asked.
"Yes," said the shopkeeper, "there's a general store next door, and a cloth shop further ahead. You can try those."
Viktor nodded and headed to the next shop.
For the next few hours, Viktor visited every shop in town. Some were willing to buy, some refused. Finally, he sold all the soap, earning a total of thirty silver coins—his first pot of gold.
He stood on the town's street, clutching the thirty silver coins tightly in his hand. The rain was still falling, but his heart was warm. He did it. His first attempt in this other world was a success.
But he knew this was just the beginning. To save the Reinhardt family, to preserve the manor, to pay the taxes, he needed to do more, to earn more.
"Young Master?"
Victor turned around and saw Emma standing behind him, holding a tattered umbrella. She looked at the silver coins in his hand, her eyes filled with disbelief.
"You…you really earned it?" Emma asked.
Victor nodded: "I earned it. Thirty silver coins."
Emma gasped: "So many?"
"This is just the first batch," Victor said. "Next, I'm going to expand production, sell to more towns, and earn even more money."
Emma looked at him, tears welling in her eyes: "Young Master, you…you're really different now."
Victor smiled and said, "Yes, I've changed. Because I had to change."
The rain was still falling, but Victor already had a direction in his heart. He wanted to change this family, change this clan, and even change the world.
And it all started with those thirty silver coins.