The first thing Rem learned about selling was that producing something was easy.
Convincing someone it was worth money was another story.
He sat on the edge of the wagon, his little legs swinging a few inches above the ground while Edgar held the reins.
Behind them were six sacks.
It wasn't much.
But they were the first.
Rem looked at them one more time.
“Do you think this will work?”
Edgar shrugged.
“If nobody wants to buy them, we'll eat them.”
Celine, sitting beside Rem, widened her eyes.
“We can't eat all of it!”
Edgar laughed.
“Why not?”
“Because then there won't be any left to sell.”
Rem held back a smile.
That was exactly why he liked the two of them.
Edgar thought like someone who had already learned to distrust the world.
Celine still believed the world could be convinced with a smile.
And somehow, together, they made things easier.
The wagon rolled along the dirt road leading beyond the village.
Rem had spent the last few days explaining to Aldric that he didn't want to sell everything at the local market.
Not yet.
Aldric hadn't liked the idea.
Not because it was bad.
Because it was different.
And everything different came with a price.
“Are you sure?” his father had asked that morning.
Rem remembered the look in his eyes.
It wasn't the look of a nobleman at a child.
It was the look of a man trying to understand his own son.
“I am.”
“And if they find out?”
Rem had been silent for a few seconds.
“Then we'll find out before they do.”
Aldric hadn't answered.
He had only run a hand over his son's head.
Now, hours later, Rem was beginning to wonder whether that confidence had been courage or merely a lack of common sense.
The city they were heading to was nearly half a day's journey away.
It wasn't large enough to attract the capital's attention.
But it was large enough to have merchants who paid more than the village middlemen.
It was exactly the kind of place Rem was looking for.
An opening.
Nothing more.
When they arrived, the bustle surprised Rem.
Wagons came and went through the narrow streets.
Vendors shouted prices, children ran between the stalls, and men argued beside shop doors.
Rem climbed down from the wagon.
His feet touched the ground.
He took a deep breath.
It wasn't São Paulo.
It wasn't his former life.
Even so, for an instant, the noise of the people made something inside him tighten.
The feeling of being surrounded by thousands of strangers.
The feeling of having bills to pay.
The feeling that tomorrow was never guaranteed.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he opened them.
Edgar was looking at him.
“You okay?”
“I am.”
Celine took his hand.
“Then let's sell.”
Rem smiled.
“Let's.”
The first merchant refused.
The second offered less than half of what Rem had expected.
The third didn't even want to listen.
“Small-farm produce,” the man said, examining the sack with disinterest. “I don't have room for that.”
Rem didn't argue.
He simply thanked him and left.
Edgar looked annoyed.
“He didn't even taste it.”
“He didn't need to.”
“How do you know?”
Rem looked at the shop.
“Because he'd already decided on the price before asking what it was.”
Edgar frowned.
“Does that make sense?”
“It does.”
Celine raised her hand.
“I understand.”
The two of them looked at her.
“He wanted to buy cheap.”
Rem laughed.
“Exactly.”
After nearly two hours, they found a small shop away from the main street.
The owner was a thin man with a short beard who seemed more interested in listening than speaking.
Rem placed a small amount of the product on the counter.
The man examined it.
Smelled it.
Tasted it.
He fell silent.
Then he tasted it again.
“How much?”
Rem named his price.
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Expensive.”
“It's better.”
“Every seller says that.”
Rem picked up another handful.
“Then buy less.”
The man looked at him.
This time, he took longer.
“Whose son are you?”
Rem felt something change in the atmosphere.
Edgar noticed it too.
Celine, however, continued looking at the products.
“Aldren,” Rem replied.
The merchant froze for a moment.
“The Count's lands?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
The man looked at the product again.
“I'll buy two sacks.”
Rem blinked.
Two.
That was more than he had expected.
“At the price I offered?”
“At the price you offered.”
“And if they sell quickly?”
The merchant gave him a sidelong smile.
“Then I'll come back for more.”
Rem held out his hand.
“We have a deal.”
The man shook it.
His hand was large.
Warm.
Firm.
When he let go, Rem realized he was smiling.
Not because of how much they had sold.
Because of what it meant.
It worked.
It wasn't just an idea.
It worked.
That night, the wagon returned lighter.
Edgar was counting the coins for the third time.
“I still can't believe it.”
Celine yawned.
“You've counted them three times already.”
“Because I can't believe it.”
Rem looked at the small pouch.
The difference wasn't enormous.
It wouldn't change the Aldrens' lives overnight.
But it was more than they could have gotten in the village.
And most importantly:
no one had asked how much Viscount Harlen charged.
Rem leaned his head against the wooden side of the wagon.
That was it.
He didn't need to defeat Harlen.
He didn't need to confront him.
He only needed to build something that didn't depend on him.
“Rem?”
He opened his eyes.
Edgar was looking at him.
“What?”
“You're smiling.”
Rem noticed it.
“I am?”
“You are.”
Celine, nearly asleep, murmured:
“He gets like that when he has an idea.”
Edgar laughed.
“That sounds dangerous.”
Rem looked at the two of them.
Maybe it was.
When they reached the Aldren lands, Aldric was waiting.
He didn't ask how much they had earned first.
He asked:
“Did it work?”
Rem nodded.
“It did.”
Aldric slowly let out his breath.
It was almost a smile.
“How much?”
Rem handed him the pouch.
Aldric opened it.
Counted.
Stopped.
Counted again.
Then he looked up.
“This is...”
“More than we could have gotten in the village.”
Aldric didn't answer.
He ran his fingers over the coins.
Then he looked at his son.
“Did you know it would turn out this way?”
Rem hesitated.
“I hoped.”
Aldric let out a small laugh.
“One day, you'll leave me without an answer.”
Rem thought about saying that it had already happened several times.
But he stayed quiet.
Because there was something different on his father's face at that moment.
Pride.
And perhaps a little fear.
The next morning, things got moving early.
The news that the Aldrens had sold part of their produce outside the village hadn't spread yet.
But news never stayed small for long.
Especially when money was involved.
In the middle of the morning, a carriage stopped in front of the estate.
Rem was in the field.
Edgar was too.
The two of them were carrying a basket of tools when they heard the horses.
Edgar stopped.
“Who is it?”
Rem looked toward the road.
The carriage was dark.
Elegant.
It bore no Aldren crest.
A man got out.
Then another.
The first wore clothes far too fine to be a simple merchant.
He walked to the estate entrance.
He spoke with one of the workers.
Rem couldn't hear him.
But he saw the man hand something over.
A small letter.
The worker ran inside.
A short while later, Aldric appeared.
Rem watched from a distance.
He couldn't hear the conversation.
But he saw his father's expression change.
First surprise.
Then caution.
Finally, something Rem knew very well.
Worry.
Aldric took the letter.
Read it.
Crumpled the paper in his hand.
The man from the carriage smiled.
Then he said something before leaving.
Rem stood motionless.
Edgar tugged on his sleeve.
“What happened?”
“I don't know.”
“Your father looks angry.”
Rem kept staring at the road.
“No.”
Edgar waited.
Rem finally answered:
“He looks scared.”
That night, Rem woke to voices.
They weren't loud.
The house was quiet, but he recognized his father's voice.
“He can't just do this.”
Elara replied:
“Aldric...”
“We've paid everything we owe.”
“I know.”
“Then why is he asking about our sales?”
Silence.
Rem opened his eyes.
He stared at the dark ceiling.
Harlen.
Of course.
The news had reached him.
Aldric continued:
“Someone talked.”
“Maybe it was a merchant.”
“Or someone from the village.”
“It doesn't matter.”
Another pause.
Then Elara said softly:
“What are we going to do?”
Rem felt his heart begin to race.
Aldric took a long time to answer.
“I don't know yet.”
Rem closed his eyes.
In his former life, he had known men like that.
Men who didn't need to raise their voices to cause trouble.
Men who didn't need to get their hands dirty to take something from someone.
All it took was a signature.
An order.
A tax.
A debt.
A powerful man didn't need to smash down your door.
He could simply make it impossible for you to keep living behind it.
Rem opened his eyes again.
The promise he had made that first morning returned to his mind.
I'm not going to waste this.
Not this time.
He had thought his second life would be a chance to build.
Now he was beginning to understand something else.
Building meant drawing attention.
And attention, in that world, came with a price.
Rem sat up in bed.
Outside, Aldric's voice remained low.
“If Harlen found out about the sales, he'll want to know who's behind them.”
Rem looked at his own hands.
Small.
Childish.
Harmless.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Because for the first time since waking up in that world, he realized that might be exactly what he needed.
No one needed to know who he was yet.
And no one needed to know what he was planning.
But now there was a new rule.
Harlen was watching.
So Rem would start watching too.
Before the Viscount made his next move.