Earthly Solutions

The transformation happening at our table was nothing short of miraculous. What had started as a crusader's public meltdown over basic arithmetic was rapidly evolving into the most compelling sales demonstration I'd ever witnessed.

Mr. Tanaka had spread the crusader's financial chaos across the table in an organized grid: coins sorted by denomination, loot items arranged by estimated value, expense receipts (yes, this world actually had receipts) categorized by type. His calculator was clicking away with the rhythmic precision of a metronome, and his ledger book was filling up with neat columns of numbers that actually made sense.

"Now," Mr. Tanaka was explaining to our increasingly fascinated audience—because by now, half the guild had stopped their own conversations to watch this mathematical miracle. “Your party operated as a limited liability venture with shared risk exposure and variable contribution ratios. The key to fair distribution is establishing baseline operational costs before calculating profit allocation."

The [Human Crusader, Level 21] was nodding along like Mr. Tanaka was explaining the fundamental secrets of the universe. Which, from his perspective, he probably was.

"You mean there's a system for this?" the crusader asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"Sir," Mr. Tanaka replied with the patient tone of someone explaining something incredibly obvious, "there's a system for everything. The problem isn't that systems don't exist—it's that no one has bothered to implement them properly."

I watched the faces of the other adventurers who had gathered around our table. There was the [Elf Archer, Level 17] from the earlier argument about healing potion costs. A [Dwarf Fighter, Level 16] who had been struggling with equipment depreciation calculations. Several [Human Mages, Level 10-14] who looked like they spent more time managing spell component budgets than they did actually casting spells.

All of them were staring at Mr. Tanaka like he was performing high-level magic.

Which, I supposed, he was.

"The total quest value," Mr. Tanaka announced, consulting his calculations, "after deducting verified operational expenses and accounting for differential contribution ratios, yields a net profit of four thousand two hundred and thirty-seven coins, distributed as follows..."

He read off individual amounts for each party member, explaining exactly how he'd arrived at each figure. The crusader's eyes were growing wider with each number.

"But that's... that's almost eight hundred more than I thought we'd made!" the crusader exclaimed.

"Efficient cost accounting often reveals hidden value," Mr. Tanaka explained matter-of-factly. "You were double counting several expense categories and failing to capitalize properly on depreciation recovery from equipment sales."

The silence that followed this statement was profound. It was the silence of people whose worldview had just been fundamentally altered.

"You mean," said the [Elf Archer, Level 17] slowly, "there are ways to make more money from the same quests?"

"Significantly more," Mr. Tanaka confirmed. "Most adventuring parties are operating at perhaps sixty percent of their potential efficiency due to poor financial management practices."

I could see the gears turning in every head around our table. These were people who risked their lives on a regular basis to earn money, and someone had just told them they could earn dramatically more money by applying basic organizational principles to what they were already doing.

It was like watching a room full of people simultaneously discover fire.

"How much would it cost," asked the [Dwarf Fighter, Level 16], "to hire you to optimize our party's financial operations?"

And that was the moment when I saw something I'd never seen before in all my years of working with Mr. Tanaka: pure, unadulterated joy.

Not satisfaction. Not professional pride. Joy.

"Cost?" Mr. Tanaka repeated, and I could see his mind racing through possibilities. "Well, that would depend on the scope of services required. Basic consultation, ongoing financial management, tax optimization strategies, long-term economic planning..."

"All of it," the dwarf said immediately. "Whatever it takes to stop losing money to bad math."

"Same here," added the elf archer. "Our party's been operating in the red for three months because we can't figure out proper expense allocation."

"And us," called out one of the mages. "Do you know how complex spell component cost analysis gets when you're dealing with fluctuating market prices for rare reagents?"

Within minutes, we had what appeared to be a line of potential clients forming around our table. Adventurers who had been struggling with everything from basic bookkeeping to complex multi-party venture agreements were all clamoring for our services.

Mr. Tanaka was in his element, explaining concepts and answering questions with the confidence of someone who had finally found his true calling. But I could see something else in his expression—something that went beyond professional competence.

He looked happy. Genuinely, deeply happy in a way I'd never seen him before.

"Yamamoto," he said quietly during a brief lull in the questions, "do you realize what's happening here?"

"We're about to have more business than we can handle?"

"More than that." His voice was almost reverent. "For the first time in my career, I'm not just processing paperwork for someone else's benefit. I'm not just a cog in someone else's machine. These people actually need what I can do. They need it desperately, and they're grateful for it."

I looked around at the growing crowd of adventurers, all of whom were eagerly discussing their various financial challenges and how our services might solve them. The enthusiasm was infectious, not just business interest, but genuine excitement about the possibility of finally understanding their own economic situations.

"You know what this means?" I said, feeling my own excitement building.

"That we're about to become very successful financial consultants?"

"That we're about to become very successful entrepreneurs." I grinned at him. "Mr. Tanaka, we're not employees anymore. We're business owners."

The weight of that realization hit both of us at the same time. We weren't working for someone else's company, following someone else's procedures, answering to someone else's priorities. We were about to create our own firm, set our own standards, and build something entirely under our own control.

"We need a name," Mr. Tanaka said suddenly.

"A name?"

"For our firm. Our company. Our..." he paused, savoring the word, "...enterprise."

I thought about it for a moment, considering various options. Then it hit me—the perfect name that captured both our origins and our mission.

"Earthly Solutions LLC," I said.

Mr. Tanaka repeated it slowly, testing how it sounded. "Earthly Solutions LLC." A smile spread across his face. "Solutions from another world for problems in this one."

"Exactly. We bring Earth-level efficiency to fantasy-world challenges."

"Yamamoto," he said, extending his hand in a formal handshake, "I think we just became business partners."

I shook his hand, and for the first time since I'd known him, Mr. Tanaka's smile reached his eyes. "Partners it is. Welcome to Earthly Solutions LLC."

The crusader, who had been listening to our exchange with growing excitement, suddenly stood up. "Excuse me!" he called out loudly enough to address the entire guild. "I want everyone to know that these men—" he gestured toward us with the dramatic flair of someone announcing a royal decree, "—just solved a financial problem that's been plaguing my party for months. In thirty minutes. With actual answers that make sense."

The murmur of conversation that followed this announcement was electric. I could see adventurers throughout the guild turning to look at us, and many of them were already making their way toward our table.

"Furthermore," the crusader continued, clearly warming to his role as our unofficial spokesperson, "they've offered to provide ongoing financial consulting services to help adventurers maximize their earnings and minimize their losses. This could revolutionize how we all do business!"

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Suddenly we were surrounded by adventurers asking questions, requesting consultations, and trying to schedule appointments. The noise level in the guild had risen dramatically as dozens of people began discussing their own financial challenges and how our services might help.

Mr. Tanaka was fielding questions with the calm professionalism of someone who had found his true calling, while I was frantically trying to take notes on all the different types of services people were requesting. Basic bookkeeping, tax optimization, investment strategies, risk assessment, insurance planning, retirement savings—it was like every financial service that existed in our world was desperately needed here.

"This is incredible," I said to Mr. Tanaka during a brief moment when he wasn't being bombarded with questions. "It's like we've discovered a completely untapped market."

"Not discovered," he corrected, his eyes bright with possibility. "Created. We're not just filling an existing need, we're creating awareness of needs people didn't even know they had."

"What's our first move? How do we handle all this demand?"

Mr. Tanaka looked around at the chaos of excited adventurers, all of whom were eager to pay us for services they'd never known existed an hour ago.

"Our first move," he said with the confident smile of someone who had finally found his purpose, "is to prove that modern financial management isn't just helpful, it's essential. We're going to make ourselves indispensable to this economy."

"And our second move?"

"Our second move is to start charging premium rates for premium services." His smile turned slightly predatory. "Yamamoto, we're not just accountants anymore. We're the only people in this damn world who understand advanced financial optimization. Supply and demand suggest we can name our price." A devious, awful grin spread across Mr. Tanaka’s face like a horrible yokai. That image would’ve given me nightmares as a kid.

I looked around at the crowd of potential clients, all of whom were discussing their various financial disasters with the enthusiasm of people who had finally found hope for resolution.

"You know what?" I said, feeling a grin spread across my face too. "I think you're right. I think we're about to become very, very successful."

"Not just successful," Mr. Tanaka corrected, straightening his tie and picking up his briefcase with newfound purpose. "We're about to become legendary."

As if to prove his point, another group of adventurers approached our table, led by what appeared to be a [Human Merchant, Level 13] who was carrying a ledger book that looked like it had been through several small wars.

"Excuse me," the merchant said with the desperate politeness of someone who had tried everything else, "I heard you gentlemen might be able to help with some... complex inventory management challenges?"

Mr. Tanaka's smile was radiant, and thankfully much kinder. "Sir," he said, gesturing for the merchant to sit down, "helping people solve complex challenges is exactly what Earthly Solutions LLC is here for."

And that was how our adventure truly began, with spreadsheets and customer service. In a world full of magic and monsters, we discovered that the most powerful force of all was basic competence applied to people who desperately needed it.

Who knew that interdimensional entrepreneurship could be so rewarding?