Chapter 34 More Business

Pietro had barely left when I found myself facing Stabs and Lydia. Both sat across from me, one looking nervous, the other calm as a still pond. Stabs scratched the back of his neck and asked, “Uuh, what did you need me for, boss?”

I leaned forward, folding my hands on the table. “So, how many decided to leave with the stipend?”

“A lot,” Stabs admitted, his eyes darting away as though ashamed. “Nearly a quarter.”

I had braced myself to lose half, so the news was far better than expected. Relief eased the tension in my shoulders. A quarter leaving meant I still had the bulk of the workforce to shape into something useful. Labor was labor, and setting up a pre-industrial factory would already be difficult enough.

Lydia stepped in smoothly. “We sent them home, and told them to come back tomorrow. I also have a few volunteers willing to help with that feeding program idea you had.”

Stabs frowned, clearly unconvinced. “Isn’t that a bit wasteful, though?”

“It’s not wasteful,” I countered, fixing him with a look. “That way, they’ll feel indebted to us. And when people feel indebted, they think twice before crossing us. Fear only lasts until someone’s braver than you. Gratitude sticks much longer.”

His expression softened slightly, though I could tell he was still running the numbers in his head. I decided to cut through his doubts with something stronger. “From now on, Stabs, you’re promoted. Chief Operating Officer. You’ll oversee day-to-day operations, manage the factories, handle logistics, and enforce quality control. I’ll give you 1.1% ownership of the company and a salary fit to make you choke.”

His eyes widened, and he stammered, “B-boss, this is too much.”

“No, it isn’t,” I replied firmly. “It’s what I need. Money is useless without people I can trust. I trust you, Stabs.”

That silenced him, though his face burned red as if I’d just handed him a kingdom. I turned to Lydia. “As for you, I’m thinking of giving you the position of Chief Financial Officer. You’d manage funds, budgeting, raw material procurement, payroll, and expansion financing. Same as Stabs, 1.1% ownership.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “I accept. But I do have a question… what’s with all these fancy titles? I know a merchant or two, and none of them dress up their positions so extravagantly.”

A wry smile tugged at my lips. “In my childhood, I dreamed of becoming the president of the world.”

That was followed by a long, awkward silence.

“Uh,” Lydia finally asked, “what is a president?”

“Is it like a king?” Stabs added, looking just as confused.

Of course, neither of them understood the reference. In my old life, my childhood dream of becoming “president of the world” had been crushed the moment I learned the world wasn’t one country, and that presidents were often the most hated people alive. I faked a cough and quickly shifted gears.

“Stabs, I need you to find me a few volunteers. Three should do. They must have ambitions… maybe dreams of becoming novelists or storytellers. I’ll pay them, teach them to read and write, but they must also know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Stabs frowned, uncertain. “I don’t think anyone here would dare dream of something so… fancy.”

“Then find me gossipers, or the overly curious. The nosy types. I can work with that. What I need are people willing to write for me.”

Lydia arched a brow, already guessing where I was heading. She wasn’t wrong. I planned to write novels, covering everything from risque tales to sweeping adventures, and market them to the wealthy as something unique and fashionable. The seed of a new kind of entertainment would be planted, and from there it could grow. For that, however, I needed bodies to possess.

Ken alone wouldn’t cut it. And me? I was a ghost who didn’t tire. It would be a shame not to abuse that advantage, allowing me to write both daylight and nighttime.

“Understood, boss,” Stabs said finally, though he still looked doubtful.

I waved him off. “Good. That’ll be all. Go get some rest. Tomorrow will be busy.”

He stood, saluted in his awkward way, and left the room. The heavy door closed behind him, leaving me alone with Lydia.

The room felt quieter without Stabs’ nervous energy, though Lydia’s presence carried its own kind of weight. She broke the silence first. “So, what’s with the sudden money-hungriness? Does your death involve a lot of greed?”

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the uneven wooden beams above. For a moment, I actually considered the question. Greed? That wasn’t it. Not really. I shook my head. “Nope. Bad luck killed me. Just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Her brow furrowed, curiosity burning in her eyes, but I didn’t let the silence stretch too long. I owed her at least some explanation, even if she would never fully grasp it. “As for the money-hungriness… I honestly don’t know how I can help Nira recover from her trauma, or how I’ll ever move on to the afterlife. But one thing’s clear… It’s going to take money. A lot of money.”

Lydia shifted, her expression softening. I continued before I could lose the thread. “At the start, I thought about just burning through the gang’s coffers to meet my goals and then walking away. That would’ve been easy. But what happens after that? When the money runs dry? Would I have to hunt down another Jandar, kill him, and steal his wealth? How many times before I turn into the very thing I’m fighting against?”

I let out a short breath, more bitter than amused. “And what about the goons or the rats, the ones who were just pawns, taken advantage of by people like Jandar? If I bleed the coffers dry and leave, then I’m no better than the parasites who came before. All I’d be doing is keeping the same ugly cycle alive.”

For once, there was no sharp remark or clever jab from her, just silence as I laid out what had been gnawing at me.

“My father used to say, ‘Always leave the world a better place.’ That’s what I’m trying to do. Even if it’s clumsy. Even if it’s self-serving. I don’t want to leave things worse than I found them.”

The words hung between us for a moment. My own voice sounded strange in my ears. It was earnest, almost vulnerable. It probably meant more work for me, and I knew it. But better that than carrying a conscience so heavy it dragged me down. I was being self-serving, sure, but I liked it this way.