"One day."
That's what the woman said before she turned around and walked off like she owned the whole damn street.
Not a threat.
Not a negotiation.
Just a deadline.
I wanted to yell after her. Something bold. Something cool.
But all that came out was:
"…Shit."
The old man poked his head out of the shop. "Montig? Who the hell was that?"
"Trouble," I muttered. "Walking, talking, well-dressed trouble."
He groaned. "Of course. As if we needed more."
I rubbed my face and sat on a crate outside the shop.
My brain felt like someone had beaten it with a broom.
One day left.
No sales.
No breakthrough.
Invisible enemies.
A guild officer breathing down my neck.
And on top of all that, the guildmaster's one-week test looming over my head like a guillotine.
Fantastic.
I stared at the sacks of feed.
"Alright," I muttered to myself. "Time to stop being stupid."
Thinking Like a Bastard
I rewound everything in my head:
Customers didn't want heavy bags.
They didn't want to carry mess.
They didn't want inconvenience.
They didn't trust sample packs.
They didn't care enough to make an effort.
People weren't avoiding the product.
They were avoiding the process.
So what was the solution?
Make the process easier.
I snapped my fingers.
"What if we deliver it?"
The old man blinked at me. "Deliver? Like going door-to-door?"
"Yeah. You know… basic human laziness exploitation."
He stared blankly.
Then his face lit up.
"That… might actually work."
I nodded. "People don't want to carry things. Let's carry it for them."
"And charge extra?"
"Hell yes."
He grinned for the first time in days.
"Alright!" he said. "Let's do it!"
And that was the moment…
…the universe decided to spit in my face.
The First Attempt at Delivery
We made a simple sign:
"Delivery Available!
Just 2 coins extra!"
People seemed interested.
They asked questions.
The old man got excited.
Finally.
Finally something was working.
A lady pointed at a small bag.
"I'll take that one. My house is two streets over."
The old man beamed. "Of course! Montig, go deliver it—"
"Wait," she added. "Do you guys pack it properly?"
The old man blinked.
"Well… it's in a paper bag."
"With holes," I muttered.
She frowned. "Oh. No thanks then."
She walked away.
The old man looked at me. "Fix the holes."
"I can't fix holes in paper."
"Then get better paper!"
"With what money!?"
We argued for ten minutes, both equally annoyed.
But okay—fine.
One failed attempt isn't the end.
We tried again.
Another customer said,
"Will the birds like it?"
We didn't know.
Another:
"Do you deliver after sunset?"
We didn't know that either.
Another:
"How do I pay? Do you take tokens? Transfer?"
We REALLY didn't know.
I felt my soul leave my body.
"This delivery idea is turning into a fucking nightmare," I muttered.
The old man sighed. "It looked good in my head."
"It looked good in MY head," I corrected. "Yours is empty."
"Shut up."
The Strategy Collapses
By noon, we had people interested, curious, and asking questions—
But not buying.
Every single delivery attempt failed in some stupid, unexpected way:
Wrong bag sizes
People weren't home
Kids answered the door instead of adults
Birds didn't like a certain mix
The old man tripped and spilled half a bag
A dog chased me down the street
A window was locked
A lady said she'd buy it tomorrow (she didn't)
It wasn't one big problem.
It was ten thousand tiny ones.
Invisible attacks.
Death by inconvenience.
Again.
By late afternoon, the old man collapsed on a stool.
"I'm done," he said. "Finished. I'm joining the guild cleaners. At least they get steady pay."
"Give up later," I said, pacing. "Panic later. Right now I need you alive."
He groaned. "Montig… today was worse than yesterday."
He wasn't wrong.
Today showed me something brutal:
A strategy that works on paper
can fall apart the moment humans get involved.
People don't act logically.
They act stupidly, randomly, inconveniently.
I kicked a stone.
"Damn it!"
The system pinged.
Ping.
[New Insight: Strategy Paradox]
Your idea was correct.
Your execution was correct.
Your logic was correct.
But people are not.
Beautiful.
Just beautiful.
The Breaking Point
By sunset, we had:
0 sales
2 spilled bags
1 bite from a dog
17 wasted hours
And a threat from a guild officer looming over us.
I sank down onto the curb.
"What now?" the old man whispered.
I didn't answer.
For the first time since this nightmare started…
I had no plan.
No angle.
No trick.
No clever move to flip the board.
It felt like the world was telling me:
"You're too small. Stay in your place."
I hated it.
I hated the feeling more than anything I'd ever felt.
The old man said quietly,
"Maybe you should walk away, kid. You have your own test. You don't need to drown with me."
I stared at him.
Walk away?
Walk the hell away?
When people were manipulating the district?
When someone was abusing power?
When everything was stacked against the weak?
When I had finally found something worth fighting?
Not a chance.
I stood up slowly.
"No," I said. "This isn't over."
The old man looked confused. "But we've tried everything."
I shook my head.
"No," I whispered. "We tried everything normal."
His eyes widened.
And I felt a spark ignite inside my chest.
"If people won't move…
If capital won't move…
If convenience is killing us…"
My voice sharpened.
"…then we stop playing their game."
I looked toward the guild towers, glowing under the evening sky.
"We're going to break the system itself."