By the next morning, I had a plan.
Was it a good plan?
…Absolutely not.
But it was the only one I had.
Since the bird-feed shop couldn't buy stock without being strangled by fake suppliers, I needed another way to make that shop relevant again.
If customers walked in, the guild couldn't shut it down so easily.
People equal noise.
Noise equals attention.
And attention is kryptonite for shady bastards.
So I went with something simple:
Create demand.
"Hey old man," I said, stepping into the shop. "Listen carefully. Today, your business comes back from the dead."
He stared at me with bags under his eyes. "If this is another one of your 'trust me' lines, I'm going to scream."
"It is," I replied.
He actually did scream. Briefly.
"Just do me a favor," I said. "Move all the unsold feed to the front. And make a big sign saying 'LIMITED STOCK, NEW MIX!'"
He blinked. "New mix? It's literally the same dusty shit."
"No one has to know that."
He opened his mouth to argue. I raised a finger.
"Marketing magic. Trust the process."
"Fine. But if this fails—"
"It won't," I lied.
Creating Noise
I stood outside the shop and started my master strategy:
I bribed kids.
Yes.
That was my plan.
I handed out small coins to a bunch of local kids and told them:
"Go inside and ask loudly about the new mix. Don't buy anything. Just be annoying."
Kids are naturally annoying.
Add coins? They become unstoppable.
Within minutes, they flooded the shop.
"Hey mister what's the new flavor!?"
"Is it spicy?"
"Does it make birds sing more?"
"Can I taste it?"
"NO YOU CAN'T TASTE IT IT'S FOR BIRDS—" the shopkeeper yelled.
People walking by turned their heads.
Curiosity started bubbling.
Perfect.
Then a few adults came in. Not to buy—just to see why a bird-feed shop suddenly had a crowd.
Then a few more.
Soon, the shop wasn't dead anymore.
It was alive.
Breathing.
Buzzing.
Exactly what I wanted.
The First Crack
"Kid," the shopkeeper whispered to me, "I think your stupid idea is actually working."
"Of course it is," I said. "Trust me—"
"Stop saying that!"
But he was smiling for the first time in days.
Traffic meant life.
Life meant the guild couldn't bury him as easily.
We just needed to keep this momentum rolling.
"Now we wait for actual buyers to come," I said.
Except… none came.
Not one.
People came in, pointed, asked questions, gossiped—
But no one bought even a handful of feed.
Hour after hour passed.
The place was full…
…and yet the money pouch remained untouched.
The shopkeeper kept muttering, "What the hell… what the hell… what the hell…"
I scratched my head. "This is odd."
Usually, when noise rises, sales follow.
Even the dumbest stunt triggers at least one idiot buyer.
But here?
Zero.
I didn't understand. The shelves were full. Prices were low. The shop wasn't scary. Nothing smelled weird. No dead rats. No curses.
Yet no one bought anything.
Why?
I stepped outside and watched people's faces.
They peeked in.
They looked at the sign.
Then they walked away.
None even hesitated.
Something was wrong.
The Truth Hits Me
I followed a middle-aged woman who walked out after browsing.
"Ma'am," I said politely. "Can I ask why you didn't buy anything?"
She looked embarrassed.
"It's… nothing personal, child."
"Humor me."
She sighed.
"To buy bird feed here… I'd have to carry it home. And the feed is heavy. And we live on the third floor. Then I need jars. Space. Time."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"Well, yes."
Then another customer said the same thing.
And another.
And another.
And like a slap from God, I understood:
The customers weren't ignoring the shop.
The product was too inconvenient.
It wasn't that people didn't want bird feed.
It was that no one could be bothered to haul it home.
It didn't matter how hyped the shop was.
People didn't want heavy bags of seeds.
Not now.
Not this week.
Not ever.
In other words—
The capital refused to move.
No matter how many people we brought, they were all empty-handed traffic.
That was the first time my instincts betrayed me.
The old man looked at me with hollow eyes.
"Kid… tell me you have a backup plan."
I forced a smile.
"…I will."
"You're lying again."
"…Yeah."
He dropped onto a stool, hand over his face. "We're dead."
And for once, I didn't have the confidence to disagree.
Because this wasn't about prices or tricks or enemies.
This was the ugliest kind of problem:
A product nobody actually wanted.
A Quiet Night
As the crowd slowly faded, I sat outside the shop, staring at the dusty bags.
The system stayed silent.
No advice.
No hints.
No new skills.
It felt like even the universe was telling me:
"You screwed up."
But I wasn't done.
Not by a long shot.
If force didn't work, then I'd find another angle.
Another weakness.
Another crack in the system.
The guild wanted this shop gone.
But I wasn't letting some invisible assholes win without a fight.
I clenched my fists.
"Fine," I muttered.
"If capital won't move…"
My eyes narrowed.
"…then I'll move the people instead."