Chapter 7 — Coffee and Negotiations
The next day came faster than Yaswanth expected.
After school ended, he rushed back home, shut himself in his room, and entered the farm space. Inside the warehouse, sacks of freshly harvested Safed Musli roots were neatly stacked. The sight alone made him giddy.
System, how should I prepare? he asked nervously.
[Host, simply clean and dry the roots. I can also package them neatly into sealed bags for presentation.]
Within moments, ten kilograms of Safed Musli were packed into a sturdy cloth bag — enough to show credibility without revealing the full stock.
Taking the bag, Yaswanth left home under the excuse of "meeting a school friend." His heart was pounding the entire ride as he pedaled his bicycle toward the café Ananya had chosen.
The Meeting
The café was quiet, filled with soft music and the smell of roasted coffee beans. Yaswanth walked in, clutching the bag tightly, scanning for her.
At a corner table sat a woman in a crisp white blouse and navy blazer. Her posture was straight, her aura commanding, and even in the relaxed setting of a café, no one dared approach her.
Ananya Mehta.
Her eyes immediately locked on him as he approached. She raised an eyebrow slightly — he looked so young, barely more than a schoolboy.
"Mr. Yaswanth?" she asked coolly.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"Please, sit."
Her tone was polite but professional, giving away nothing. She folded her hands on the table. "You said on the phone you had Safed Musli — five hundred kilograms, was it? Do you know how outrageous that sounds?"
Yaswanth smiled faintly, sliding the cloth bag onto the table. "I understand your doubt, ma'am. That's why I brought a sample."
Proof of Value
With careful movements, he unwrapped the bag. The roots inside gleamed faintly under the café lights, cleaned and trimmed perfectly. Their fragrance immediately spread, earthy and medicinal, sharp enough to make Ananya's eyes narrow.
She leaned forward, her professional mask slipping for a second. This… this quality… it looks better than half the imports we struggle to source.
From her bag, she pulled out a small testing kit — clearly, she had come prepared. Breaking off a piece, she ran a quick field test right at the table. Within minutes, the results confirmed it.
Pure. Potent. Top grade Safed Musli.
Her expression hardened, but Yaswanth could see the glint of excitement in her eyes.
"Where did you get this?" she demanded. "No farmer can produce this much, not in this condition, not this fast."
Yaswanth didn't flinch. He had prepared an excuse. "Family land, ma'am. In the village. My relatives grow it, but they don't know how to find proper buyers. I'm just helping."
It wasn't the full truth — but it was believable enough.
The Deal Begins
Ananya leaned back, tapping the table lightly. "If what you're saying is true, Mr. Yaswanth, then we're talking about a business deal worth crores. But I don't gamble my company's reputation on words. Bring me proof of stock — even just fifty kilograms — and we'll talk price."
Her sharp gaze bore into him. "If you're lying, don't bother calling again."
Yaswanth met her eyes, steady and calm. "I'll bring it tomorrow, ma'am. Fifty kilograms, clean and ready."
For the first time, her lips curved into the faintest smile. "Good. Then let's see if this boy is really what he claims to be."
As Yaswanth left the café, bag in hand, his pulse raced. This was no longer a fantasy — he was officially stepping into the business world.
And tomorrow, everything could change.