"Here's the situation, Mr. Moretti," Adrian said, gently placing his cane beside him as he addressed Benson. "I own a winery in Backlund. Backlund's economy is thriving, and workers can produce affordable liquor to earn their wages—but that's where the problem lies."
Drawing on the memories of the Abraham he possessed, Adrian continued, "My winery's products aren't exactly popular in Backlund. The grand nobles in their estates scorn my 'mass-produced' goods, and those who can afford my liquor don't buy enough to match my production. This forces me to find a way out for my winery—ha, you understand, even a merchant like me has a conscience and pity. My workers depend on this job to live."
The Abraham family, spared from annihilation by the Seven Gods due to Mr. Door, had dwindled after a disciple's betrayal but remained an angelic lineage. A lean camel is still larger than a horse, and thanks to ancestral favor, most direct descendants enjoyed comfortable lives.
The original owner of Adrian's body secretly operated a winery and a lead product factory in Backlund, making Adrian quite wealthy now.
"I'm currently in Tingen and won't return to Backlund soon—but the issue needs resolving. So, I'm relying on your company to arrange commercial activities in the South Continent. I hope your business capabilities will satisfy me."
"Few factory owners care about their workers' lives. You're a model among merchants," Benson said, flattering Adrian. "This issue isn't uncommon in Backlund. From what I know, the South Continent's people can't produce such goods cheaply, but through our company, we can provide trade channels to the South Continent."
"However, I need to consult my superiors; I can't decide alone. I'm just a junior employee," Benson said gravely. "If you're not in a hurry, I can wait with you for my supervisor. I understand your intent. For commercial exports to the South Continent, few companies are as professional as us."
"Fair enough," Adrian nodded. "But you seem troubled. Your complexion doesn't look good…"
He eyed Benson suspiciously, noting dark circles around his eyes. Benson's face showed fatigue, yet the not-so-young man still wielded his linguistic talents. Realizing his weariness was noticed, Benson smiled awkwardly. "I'm not supposed to be on duty today. I just returned from a business trip and happened to meet you… Ha, I didn't want the company to lose a client, so I stepped in as a receptionist."
"You're a capable employee. I'm almost jealous of your employer," Adrian said with a light smile. "If you were my factory's business manager, my winery might already be operating in the South Continent."
"You're too kind. I'm just an ordinary employee, only good for talking," Benson said with a wry smile, not taking Adrian's words seriously.
But Adrian had considered it. Benson's abilities and his connection to Klein warranted some assistance. Even ignoring their inseparable sibling bond, Benson's linguistic finesse, despite no formal education, was enough to pique Adrian's interest.
As an outlier among Outer Gods, the High-Dimensional Overseer enjoyed observing and recording human knowledge—a habit evident from his covert ventures into the Supernova Dominator's domains, though the Supernova seemed displeased, and Adrian didn't know why.
"Mr. Moretti, if I may ask," Adrian said, "you don't seem formally educated, yet your eloquence is remarkable—no offense, just curiosity."
"No offense taken," Benson replied, rubbing his eyes to muster energy. Smiling, he said, "I have a younger brother studying at university…"
Adrian hadn't expected a casual question to open the floodgates—apparently, starting with family topics worked in this world too.
"…That's how it is. He's preparing for a university interview now. Oh, sorry, Mr. Abraham, have I said too much?" Benson sipped his tea, realizing nearly two hours had passed, nearing the company's official opening time. Adrian shook his head. "Not at all. Chatting with you passes the boring wait—you know how tedious waiting can be." He set down his cup, glancing at the opening door. "Oh, your colleague's here, right on time. Your company's discipline is as strict as you claim."
"Colleague?" Benson looked at the door. "Ah, the supervisor's here. Mr. Abraham, shall we…?"
"No need. You're an excellent employee," Adrian said coolly. "If possible, I'd like you, Benson Moretti, to handle my future dealings."
"This…" Benson suppressed his surprise, catching Adrian's meaning but hesitant to believe it. No workplace novice, he knew some unspoken rules. "Alright, Mr. Abraham. Our supervisor handles business negotiations. I'll brief him on your situation."
"Good." Adrian nodded, eyeing the well-built supervisor in a meticulous black suit, hair perfectly combed, exuding elite professionalism. The supervisor froze upon seeing Benson and Adrian.
"Supervisor, this is Adrian Abraham. He wants our company to handle exports of his Backlund factory's goods to the South Continent. I returned from a trip and received him," Benson said quietly. The supervisor, Charlie Elliott, quickly recovered, smiling and approaching Adrian. "Hello, I'm Charlie Elliott, the supervisor here. How can the South Continent Trading Company assist you? I understand you wish to export your winery's liquor. We can offer three plans…"
Adrian listened to Charlie's pitch, letting the information pass through his Outer God mind to analyze pros and cons. The cheapest plan had the company provide routes and contacts, with Adrian handling production, transport, and sales—most profitable but most cumbersome. Many merchants chose this for the low intermediary fee.
The simplest option was full outsourcing to the company, with Adrian only supplying goods, letting their specialists handle everything. The company took the lion's share, but it spared Adrian effort.
"I'll entrust my goods' supply to you. But, Charlie, you can secure more sales routes, right?" Adrian glanced at the documents Charlie presented, casually asking, "If I supply in bulk or sign a multi-year contract, the profit split should increase, yes?"
"Of course…" Charlie adjusted his glasses. "If you provide consistent supply, we'll raise your share by three… no, five percent!"
"Deal, then," Adrian said, standing and grabbing his cane. "I'll visit next week at 3 p.m. I expect a drafted contract by then. Oh, and for company communications, go through Mr. Moretti."
Benson tensed, and Charlie, unprepared for the request, frowned but said earnestly, "We have more specialized staff…"
Adrian smiled, giving Charlie a meaningful look. "Benson's a good employee—at least in my judgment. He secured this contract for you in the two hours before you arrived."
They watched Adrian leave in silence. After a while, Charlie asked Benson, "You're… Benson, right? What's your weekly salary?"
"Uh?" Benson, caught off guard, replied, "One pound, ten pence."
"One pound, ten pence… That's low. Starting next week, it's two pounds. If the Abraham contract completes, I'll add a bonus. Who'd have thought Tingen would land such a big deal? Thanks to you, or another company would've snatched it."
Charlie rubbed his forehead, and Benson beamed. "Thank you, sir!"
In his heart, he thanked Abraham for this opportunity.
(End of Chapter)