Chapter 6: Hot Sales and Heavy Hearts
A blond guy in leathery armor—so beat-up it looked like it had lost a bar fight with a dragon—stopped at my stall. He pointed at a bright orange plastic lighter.
> "Oy, merchant! What... is this contraption?"
"That, my guy," I said, standing like a street magician about to pull a rabbit out of a USB port, "is a lighter. Wanna see something cool?"
Before he could grunt, I picked up a black one—click!—and a perfect flame flickered to life. A faint scent of butane sliced through the thick perfume of fried fish and wet earth.
The guy staggered back like he'd seen an anito. "WHAT IN THE SEVEN SHADOWED HELLS OF KRAAGMOR?!"
Nearby fruit stalls trembled in fear. Heads turned. Eyes widened.
Showtime.
"It makes fire," I said, casually letting the flame dance. "Instantly. No flint, no mana. No prayer circles or firewood. Just—click, and cook."
He gawked at the plastic like it was alchemy. "But… it's made of metal and… what is this clear, strange stone?"
"A special hardened resin from my homeland," I said, deadpan. "Secret technique. Ancient supply chain. Extremely rare."
"Can I… try?"
"Go off, king."
He flicked it. Fwoosh. Flame. Pure joy and mild terror washed over his face.
A kid screamed, "HE'S A FIRE MAGE!"
Boom—crowd summoned. A tidal wave of adventurers, merchants, and idle gossipers closed in. Curious eyes. Whispering mouths. Greedy fingers.
"Nah, not a mage," I said, loud enough for the perimeter. "Just a humble merchant with seriously hot stock."
> "Tired of bleeding your fingers on old flints?" "Sick of your food staying raw in the middle?" "Well, say goodbye to struggle and hello to…"
I held the lighter up like Simba.
"...the Pocket Inferno!"
The crowd gasped. Hook, line, branding.
> "It must cost a fortune!" someone blurted.
The call center reflex kicked in—pitch drop, then rebound.
"Understandable concern!" I said with a grin. "But for you fine folks, this revolutionary marvel costs… only thirty Tanso!"
Gasp. Murmurs. A tomato vendor did the math aloud. "That's less than a flint!"
"And this bad boy—" I held up the jumbo lighter like it owed me rent, "—normally fifty-five Tanso, but today? Forty. For three days only."
"GIVE ME THE BIG ONE!"
"I WANT TWO!"
"DO YOU HAVE PINK?"
The next half hour was a glorious blur. Coins clinking. Hands waving. Shouts overlapping. I was selling so fast, I barely had time to blink. My coin pouch felt like it was gaining sentience from weight alone.
By late afternoon, I sat cross-legged, wiping sweat from my brow and folding up the now-empty blanket. The marketplace buzzed around me, but all I heard was the beautiful jingle of success.
And then—
> "Kuya Pepito!"
Marikit dashed over, her braid slightly unraveled, cheeks flushed, and her basket still full.
"You were amazing!" she beamed, though her voice cracked at the edges. Her eyes flicked to my empty mat, and her smile faltered. "You made so many people happy…"
"Yeah," I said, my grin flickering. "Sold out faster than I expected. It was… a good day."
"I'm really glad…"
Her gaze dropped.
"What about you, Marie?" I asked softly.
She stared at her basket, shame heavy in her posture. "Only two people bought one each," she whispered. "I… I picked the prettiest shells, Kuya."
I saw it then. The single tear that slipped down her dusty cheek.
> "Why doesn't anyone want them?"
It hit me harder than the KRAAGMOR guy's yelling.
"Marie…" I reached out, but she pulled away quickly.
"It's fine," she mumbled, wiping her face. "I'll try again…"
She turned. A small figure, basket full, hope fading. The fire in my chest was instant.
> Not today.
"Hold it right there, young lady," I said firmly. I gently caught her hand. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
She blinked up, eyes still watery. "A business proposal?"
"Yup," I said, giving her a warm, confident smile. "Tomorrow's gonna be even busier. I need help—bad. Someone smart, fast, and trustworthy."
I crouched down to eye-level. "So I was wondering… would you, Marie, my most trusted consultant, consider becoming my official business partner?"
She didn't speak at first. Just blinked. Processing. A spark lit behind those teary eyes.
> It was the kind of spark no lighter could make