Kurt frowned as soon as he opened his eyes. His wooden bed creaked underneath him, and a layer of dust settled on the windowsill. He sat up, brushed off his tunic, and reached for his half-boiled water jug. He poured some into a bowl and started scrubbing his hands with a small cloth he had washed five times yesterday.
Aria groaned from the corner of the hut, still wrapped in a thin blanket. "You're up early again."
"I'm always up early," he muttered. "I can't start the day without washing off the bacteria."
"Bak-teer-yah?" she mumbled.
He glanced over. "Tiny invisible things that make you sick. They're everywhere."
She blinked at him, her eyes still foggy with sleep. "You say the weirdest things…"
Ignoring her, Kurt got to his feet and moved to the small crate by the fireplace. He carefully peeled off the cloth covering the soap mold they had poured yesterday.
He grinned.
The rectangular slabs had hardened enough to be sliced. The smell of boiled herbs and animal fat still lingered in the hut. Kurt carefully extracted one bar, holding it like it was glass.
"Not bad," he whispered. "Rough edges, inconsistent curing, but not bad for version one."
"Did it work?" Aria asked, stretching.
"We'll find out," Kurt replied. "Come with me."
The sun was still rising when they reached the stream. Dew clung to the grass, and birds chirped nearby. Kurt knelt by the water's edge, examining the flow. He dipped a corner of the soap into the stream and rubbed it between his hands.
Foam.
He paused, watching the bubbles form. His eyes widened slightly.
"It's cleaning," he muttered. "The fats bonded well. Saponification worked, even with basic materials."
Aria crouched beside him, sniffing the air. "That smell—like cooked herbs. Wait, is it supposed to make bubbles?"
"Yes," Kurt said. "That means it's working."
She took the bar from his hand before he could protest and lathered it in the stream, scrubbing her arms.
"Feels weird," she said. "But in a good way. My skin feels... softer?"
"It's soap," he explained. "It removes dirt, oil, sweat—all the things that stick to your body and make it smell."
She gave him a sideways glance. "So you're saying I smell?"
"No—I'm saying everyone smells."
Later, back at the hut, Kurt scribbled quickly in his notebook with a charcoal stub. He was doing calculations—how much fat they could make, how much lye he could produce from ashes, and how many bars that would create.
**Money Hungry (MAX) activated.**
If he could produce ten bars a day and sell them for the equivalent of three eggs each…
"Are you writing down spells?" Aria asked, peeking over his shoulder.
"No. I'm planning our next step," he replied. "We're going to sell this."
Her eyebrows rose. "You think people will buy something they don't understand?"
He smirked. "They'll understand clean. Eventually."
She folded her arms. "If you can get even one person to trade for it, I'll help you make more."
Kurt stood up, grabbed three bars of soap, and marched out the door. "Deal."
The village square bustled as usual, with traders setting up carts and children running between stalls. Kurt walked stiffly, his hands wrapped in a clean cloth holding the soaps. Aria followed behind, her arms crossed and expression unreadable.
He cleared his throat and stepped up to a merchant selling fish. "Excuse me, fellow citizens!"
A few heads turned. One man squinted. A woman chuckled.
"I bring a new item from distant lands," Kurt said. "A bar that removes dirt without needing a full bath! Observe!"
He dropped a silver coin onto the ground, pressed it into the mud, and then picked it up. People watched as he wet the soap in a nearby basin and gently scrubbed the coin. The mud washed away, revealing a shiny surface underneath.
"See? It cleans without scraping, without vinegar, and leaves a pleasant scent."
The crowd murmured.
"Snake oil," one man scoffed.
But a middle-aged woman stepped forward. "Can I try?"
Kurt handed her a bar.
She rubbed her calloused fingers with it at the basin and blinked. "Soft… and it smells like the river after rain…"
"I'll give you three eggs for one," she said, pulling a pouch from her belt.
Kurt smiled. "Deal."
Another voice chimed in. "I'll trade a loaf of bread."
A child nearby reached out with wide eyes. "Can I have one?"
Kurt paused, then tore a small chunk off one bar and handed it over. "Use it with water."
Aria watched the small line that had formed, astonished.
Back at the hut, they laid out their gains on the table: two eggs, a loaf of bread, and a tiny pouch of dried herbs someone had added.
Aria sat down and exhaled slowly. "That… was unexpected."
"I told you," Kurt said, carefully storing the soap scraps in a clean sack. "People want solutions. They just don't know they want them."
"Still, I didn't think anyone would bite."
Kurt didn't respond. He was already wiping his hands, grimacing at a speck of dust on his fingernail.