Norman wanted to throw up. Depleting his mana over and over again made him horribly queasy. Whenever his mana recharged enough to use his [EXCHANGE] skill at random. He wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t have something special in mind while he used exchange, and the results sparked his curiosity. The first thing he tried was a pebble. He held it in his hand and cleared his mind while it dissolved into mana. What he got in return was the bottom half of what he assumed was once a wooden spoon.

  The broken spoon was then exchanged in the same manner, and the result was four small leaves from an unknown tree. The leaves were exchanged for a rotten gooseberry, the gooseberry was exchanged for a tangled piece of string, and the string was exchanged for another pebble. This exchange process took him several days, but both his [EXCHANGE] skill and his mana leveled up.

  +2 MP

  EXCHANGE (LVL 1) → EXCHANGE (LVL 2)

  Exchange an item you are holding for an item of equal value. The item has to fit in both of your hands, as does the item you are exchanging it for.

  There must be at least 50 of the item you are exchanging for in order to make a successful exchange.

  You cannot exchange for items that do not exist in Silvae.

  Cooldown: 8 Minutes MP: 3

  The ability to exchange items twice as big as before was a huge deal. As long as he could cup something in his hands or lay it flat across his palms, it was fair game. He could also get bigger items back, which was a plus. The extra mana wasn’t unwelcome, either. Now that he had 6 mana, he could cast his [EXCHANGE] skill twice before passing out. Many of the gaudy decorations the precious homeowner had were quickly exchanged for more funds. Candelabras and hideous vases that were previously too big to hold in one hand were now exchanged without a problem.

  Norman tested his theory about beeswax being priceless by picking up the biggest rock he could lift with his pitiful strength and exchanged it for a clump of beeswax of the same size. It worked perfectly, and he felt like a genius. Where the items he got in return for his exchanges came from was still a mystery. Before he started his experiment, he had asked Savant if any bees' homes would be ruined by doing this, and the answer was no. Norman theorized that he was changing the form of mana from one thing to another. That made him feel better about himself. He had been feeling pretty guilty about exchanging money, just in case he was robbing someone.

  While the beeswax was free, the wicks were not. Thankfully, wicks were mass-produced and sold for cheap to families doing winter crafts. A single Lapis could earn him five wicks. Soon enough, a candle-making station was put up in the storage room turned workshop. It consisted of a metal melting pot heated by a fire stone, hanging storage racks above basins to catch any dripping wax, and a small packaging station. It was really simple, but it worked. Norman had tried to exchange the candle materials for a finished candle, but he just got a bunch of regular beef tallow candles in return. Savant told him that beeswax candles were an Earth invention, and that meant they didn’t qualify. Even if he made 50 of them to fill the exchange quota, it still wouldn’t do anything.

  It wasn’t that big of a deal, though. Norman suspected that it worked that way. Otherwise, there would be no need for a material production arc in the story. Norman and Rowboat made a couple of candles with minimal issues. It was clear that Rowboat was terrible for the job, though. It wasn’t that she was bad or incompetent; she was simply too big. She snapped more than one of the delicate rods the candles were hung from as she dipped them. Her job was changed to teaching the children, who wanted to help but weren’t allowed anywhere near the hot wax, to tie string into ribbons for the packaging.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Norman inspected his first finished product using his [GOLDEN EYE] skill to get a rough estimate of how much his creation would be worth on the market. As long as the value wasn’t abysmal or outrageous, he would be satisfied with the result.

  [BEESWAX CANDLE - 35 LAPIS]

  With the 40% margin of error, a single candle was worth between 25 and 45 Lapis. At the least, it was worth the same as a sturdy leather bag; at best, it was worth the same as an okay quality bed. It was clear that his target audience would have to be the upper class, but it was still a price he could work with. He wouldn’t mind lowering it to gain more customers; the materials were almost free, after all.

  The dyes were a lot trickier. Norman wanted his signature dye to be red, as the only way to make red dye in Silvae was by using monster blood, making it a rare and sought-after pigment. Savant had informed him that Silvae had a plant similar to the Rubia plant from Earth that could be used to safely dye things red. It was an undiscovered plant, so it didn’t yet have a name. Norman decided to call it Red Root. Creative as ever.

  The problem was processing the plant into a usable dye. The thin outer layer of the roots had to be carefully peeled off without damaging the tender insides. After getting an adequate amount of usable roots, you had to heat them over a fire to suck out the moisture. If the fire got too hot or you went on for too long, the roots would turn brown and be unusable. If you didn’t heat them for long enough, the roots would take on a strange, bitter smell that clung to everything. Needless to say, neither the huge Rowboat, rigid Norman, nor the clumsy children could accomplish such a delicate task.

  The obvious solution was to bring in another employee. Norman had planned to do that anyway, but now he had a solid reason to go out looking. Norman needed someone with delicate hands and precise movement, someone who could stay and travel with them and didn’t have a family to take care of. He needed someone he would feel comfortable with having his children around, and someone they would be comfortable with, too. When he thought about it, he hit the jackpot with Rowboat, didn’t he? There probably aren’t many people who would willingly uproot their lives like that while also becoming part of their family.

  Norman left the children and Rowboat to whatever they pleased while he went out looking for a new employee. He didn’t really know where to look, as this world didn’t have employment offices or online job postings. Most people got hired by their family or taken in as apprentices by someone they knew. He figured that as long as he walked, he would stumble across someone looking for employment.

  He was right. He did come across several people advertising their need for employment, but none of them fit his criteria. Most of them were tall, imposing mercenaries. Some had the delicate hands he was looking for, but he didn’t trust the crazed look in their eyes. There was one man he was considering hiring until he brought up his wife and children. He wandered aimlessly for so long that he didn’t realize when he stumbled into the seedier part of town.

  The red light district looked completely different from the rest of Swaan. Here, things were dirty and broken. Drunkards lay passed out on the street, and prostitutes shamelessly flaunted their assets from the windows of brothels, urging customers to pay them a visit. Norman didn’t think much about the women, though. He just wondered if they were cold without their clothes. He didn’t know why, but he kept walking. Usually, he would have turned around right away. He didn’t know if it was his pity or his curiosity that drove him forward, but forward he went.

  Things got worse the further he walked. The prostitutes were dressed in lavish robes and wore alluring expressions before; now they were dressed in rags and looked like they wanted to crawl out of their skin. The drunkards turned into druggies and the smoke shops were opium dens. Some part of Norman wanted to help them all, but he knew that he couldn’t; that was a job for the true heroes. Instead, he kept walking.

  To his surprise, there was one high-class shop like the ones at the start of the street, deep here in the trenches of it. Unlike the other shops, the lights inside were lit, and nothing was broken or shattered. The sign on the front read “The Broken Swan Dance Hall”. Norman was itching with curiosity. Not about the dancers inside, but how they could possibly make enough money to run such a high-class establishment in a slum.

  The inside was opulent and beautiful, like the outside. The main room was covered in silks and shimmering fabrics. A plush carpet with a detailed design was laid out on the floor in front of a stage. There weren’t any tables or chairs; instead, decorative pillows had been laid out on the floor. Wealthy-looking patrons, both men and women, were relaxing on said pillows, chatting and indulging in expensive alcohol.

  One of the employees, a human woman with long black hair and half-lidded eyes, approached him without making a sound. “Are you here for the show, sir?” She asked, gesturing to an empty spot on the floor. “Please, have a seat. The show starts in just a few minutes.”