At my words, Rang recoiled in shock.
She gaped, then asked with a stunned expression.
"......Th-that's a small task, Boss? Mass-producing weapons that could completely overturn the Empire?"
But I just smiled playfully and replied.
"It's a small task. A small task I can finish anytime I put my mind to it. I've got at least that much capability, you know."
After all, the kids were following me so well. It felt right to show off a little here.
Besides, it wasn't even a lie.
I'd been thinking about mass-producing my special soap for a while now. I couldn't keep making it by hand forever.
If I was going to start a proper business, I needed to scale up.
"Unbelievable...... Boss really is incredible."
At my words, Rang's eyes sparkled brightly.
I could see Ren hiding behind Rang, peeking over her shoulder at me with equally sparkling eyes. Mm, I'd better not disappoint them.
I really was glad I'd drawn up some plans in advance.
"I already have arrangements in place for how to mass-produce our weapon to cleanse the Empire -- my special soap -- and everything we'll need for it. We can execute the plan anytime I decide to."
"......'Soap.' You're talking about the weapon that will cleanse the stench-ridden filth. Understood."
Cleansing the stench-ridden filth. Not technically wrong, but she was putting it awfully bluntly.
"You've got quite the intense way of phrasing things. I understand how you feel, but always watch your words. The Empire's esteemed elites reek of putrid stench, yet they despise having it pointed out."
The more I saw of the nobles, the more I couldn't believe it.
They'd have you executed for insulting nobility just because you slightly wrinkled your nose at the stench. Can those bastards not smell themselves?
If you stink, the logical thing to do is wash.
I'm starting to doubt whether these things are even human.
"......True. We never know when or where someone might be eavesdropping on our conversations. It's best to be as careful as possible."
"Right, just to be safe, stay cautious."
I agreed that nobles stink, but.
If something like "those nobles smell like rotting garbage, so let's purify them with our soap" ever reached a noble's ears --
You'd just get your head lopped off on the spot.
"Still, it's certainly good news. I'd like to stockpile as much 'soap' as we can. There are far too many in this Empire who reek. Enough to cleanse every last one of them without exception."
"Yeah, I thought the same, which is why I've been thinking up a plan for a while now."
I immediately rummaged through a drawer.
What I pulled out was a handmade map. A sketch of the surrounding area that I'd painstakingly drawn, stitch by stitch, with great effort.
I pointed to one of the buildings drawn on the map.
"This is where we're heading today."
In the modern world, what do you do when you want to mass-produce something?
You contact a factory. But in a medieval fantasy world, you couldn't exactly find a fully mechanized factory.
There was, however, a suitable alternative.
"I've already set up an appointment with the workshop owner."
An alchemy workshop that manufactured alchemical supplies and the like.
That place could more than handle producing my soap. If I just gave them the recipe, they could probably start mass production right away.
An essential facility for the business.
"An alchemy workshop. Indeed, when it comes to handling explosives, there are no better specialists."
"Hm? Explosives?"
At my words, Rang visibly flinched.
She glanced around with an unusual degree of vigilance as she spoke.
"Oh, n-no, never mind. We're approaching this purely with the intention of making soap, of course. It's just that explosives are delicate work, so. I thought a workshop that handles such things would also be good at making soap."
What was there to be so guarded about when making soap?
I was thinking that, and then it hit me.
She was right to be guarded.
No, security had to be the top priority.
When you thought about the state of the times, wasn't it obvious?
"Once we visit the workshop, we'll have to make it absolutely clear to the craftsmen. Whatever we're producing there, the information must never leak outside under any circumstances."
"Yes, no one in the Empire must learn of it. Even if the Emperor himself showed up to pry, we must impress upon them that leaking information is unacceptable."
Copyright didn't even exist in this damn medieval world.
Rang's words felt slightly excessive, but considering medieval standards, you couldn't be too careful with security.
'If the recipe gets stolen? Everyone would immediately mass-produce knockoffs and sell them. There's no way medieval people would respect intellectual property. This has to be done in absolute secrecy.'
I'd have to watch out for industrial spies too. And I'd need to make sure nobody was leaking information from the inside.
Hmm...... there was more to be careful about than I'd expected.
"Well, first things first, we need to negotiate the contract. Let's handle the immediate issues before worrying about the details."
But that was still a matter for the somewhat distant future.
It wasn't even certain yet whether the contract with the workshop would go through successfully. Better to focus on that task for now.
"......Let's go, kids. Our first official operation."
I steeled my resolve and rose from my seat.
***
A tip I'd like to give any reincarnator in a medieval fantasy world.
In the medieval era, do not expect anything.
Below rock bottom, there is another bottom.
The moment you think 'this must be the lowest point, there's no way it can go any lower than this' and let your guard down, you get slammed straight into the basement.
Like the scene unfolding before my eyes right now.
"So...... you want to form a partnership with my workshop?"
Yellow hair and blue eyes.
To put it kindly, a man of sturdy build. To put it bluntly, a man so bloated you'd think he'd just devoured an entire cow.
The workshop owner was looking down at me with an arrogant expression.
"Yes, I've come here to form a partnership, but......"
I frowned slightly and asked.
"Why are those children in such a state? Are they ill? They look like apprentices working in this workshop."
A damn Empire with no concept of human rights.
I knew worker treatment was rock bottom, but even so, there were limits.
Those young kids were nothing but skin and bones.
"Oh, those slaves? They're probably in bad shape because they haven't been eating."
The workshop owner answered in a perfectly nonchalant voice.
You'd think someone else had been starving them.
He hadn't even fed those kids, yet here he was rambling about it as if it were someone else's problem.
"Ungrateful little wretches, really. They had the nerve to complain about the food I gave them. So I've been withholding their meals as punishment -- going on two weeks now."
My head started spinning again.
This damn medieval Empire.
These bastards, more beastly than actual beasts.
I usually avoided calling things "barbaric" because it felt a bit harsh, but. This I could only describe as genuinely barbaric.
"They complained about the food?"
"Yeah, they spat out every last bit of food I gave them."
"What on earth did you feed them for that to happen?"
"I had some leftover sandwiches from before, so. I even went to the trouble of cutting off the moldy parts before giving it to them, and they still threw a fit."
Hearing even that much made the whole thing even more absurd.
Cutting off the moldy parts makes it fine?
Mold is like a flag.
A flag declaring 'this food has already been fully conquered by us.'
"......Food that's been in contact with saliva spoils easily."
"That's exactly the kind of fuss I'm talking about. I went out of my way to cut off the mold and give them only the clean parts. And they gag over a little saliva? If that isn't being an ungrateful brat, then what is?"
"Well, obviously they'd throw up if you feed them spoiled food."
"That's what I'm saying! I cut off all the mold! Are you deaf? How many times do I have to repeat myself before you get it?"
He fed them spoiled food, and when they vomited, he ranted that they didn't know the value of a meal. How could someone like this even exist?
Yet the man was getting angry at me as if I were the unreasonable one.
I was on the verge of letting a string of profanity fly, but.
"Still, it would be better to give them at least a minimum of food."
Talking like a person to a beast was pointless.
For beasts, you had to use the language they understood.
"......If a slave dies on you, that's a loss, isn't it? So for the sake of your own profits, at least give them something to eat."
If I just got angry about how pitiful the kids were, he'd only say, 'They're slaves, so what? I'm doing whatever I want with my property, why are you butting in?'
Here, I had to frame the persuasion in terms of profit.
With that reasoning, I tried a careful approach, but.
"Don't you think you're overstepping a bit? Do I look like I can't afford to buy a few new slaves? I just buy replacements. That's all there is to it."
Naturally, he didn't listen at all.
"Seems like you've been picking up strange rumors. I may have lost some money gambling, but I haven't fallen that far. Keep poking at me like that and it won't end well."
I'd never heard any rumors about him.
When all a piece of trash can see is trash, I suppose. He'd apparently taken my words as a jab saying "you can't even afford to buy new slaves."
The noble picked at his ear and stood up with a look of displeasure.
"And how long are we going to keep chatting? I'll go fetch the contract, so instead of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, let's talk business."
The workshop owner left briefly to get the contract.
I was certain of one thing.
That contract was not going to be fair.
I couldn't even imagine what kind of outrageous terms and ratios he'd try to shove at me.
This was an absolute rejection.
When he came back, I'd tell him the deal was off.
I was thinking of a polite way to turn him down when.......
"......The stench in here is staggering."
What hit my nose was a horrid smell.
A foul stench hung in the air. Based on the conversation just now, I'd already guessed the man was the type who had nothing to do with cleanliness.
But this was beyond anything I'd imagined.
Food waste strewn everywhere.
A pigsty would be twenty times cleaner than this workshop.
It wasn't that I couldn't guess where the smell was coming from.
Rather, there were so many obvious sources that the sheer volume of filth was making my head spin.
"The stench is staggering, Boss."
And I wasn't the only one who noticed.
So there are sane people even in this cursed medieval world.
In a world where not bathing for a month was the norm, to find someone who valued cleanliness like I did -- what welcome news.
"Yeah, the stench is staggering."
I stretched idly as I spoke.
"The trash needs to go. Just being in the same space is enough to make you gag."
Where on earth was this smell coming from? With conditions like these, it'd be terrible for the workshop kids' health too. Better clean it up fast.
"......How should we dispose of it, Boss?"
Rang asked with a serious expression.
How to dispose of trash, she asks.
"Waste sorting, obviously."
"Pardon? What is waste sorting?"
At Rang's question, I realized my slip.
"Oh, sorry. Hometown talk. Has nothing to do with what we're doing now, I got mixed up. Back home, we'd normally gather up all the neighborhood trash, crush and compress it, then boil it down until not a trace was left."
Having lived in Korea so long, modern words slipped out from time to time.
"We even melted down trash and turned it into bags. Talking about this brings back memories of home. Ahaha."
I chuckled at the nostalgia.
......But why was everyone reacting like this?