Rajendra woke to the smell of old wood and incense.
His head throbbed in that dull, after-faint way that told him the world hadn't been a dream. The ceiling fan above him spun lazily, making that faint metallic tak-tak as before. The same room. The same cracked walls.
Not 2025.
Not the street.
Not the water tank.
And definitely not his old body.
He sat up slowly, breath steadying. His eyes stayed fixed on the space where the blue screen had hovered earlier.
Nothing.
Just air.
"…The hell was that?" he whispered.
As if waiting for the cue, a soft ping hummed in the air.
A cerulean light shimmered.
Then the virtual panel unfolded in front of him like a holographic scroll.
[ Welcome back, Host! ]
Rajendra flinched.
The screen flickered playfully.
[ Status: Stable. Consciousness intact.
Time since transmigration: 4 hours 32 minutes. ]
"Transmigration," Rajendra repeated. "Right. That's what this is."
Another line animated into view:
[ System Type: MULTIVERSAL PROCUREMENT INTERFACE ]
[ Weekly Multiversal Auction: Locked (6 days 12 hours remaining) ]
[ Direct Procurement: Available ]
[ Starter Bonus: Pending Acceptance ]
Rajendra blinked. "Starter bonus?"
The panel shook slightly, like a puppy wagging its tail.
[ Accept Starter Bonus? ]
[ Yes / Yes ]
"…I don't have a choice, huh?"
[ Yes! ]
[ Starter Bonus Granted! ]
A new window opened.
[ Item #001: "Universal Communication Template — Lv.1" ]
[ Effect: Enables Host to speak, interpret, and intuitively mirror native linguistic rhythm of low-tier Earth languages.
Includes: English, Hindi, Japanese, Malay, Russian (basic), Mandarin (basic), Marathi.
Cooldown: None. ]
Raj's eyes widened.
He tested it immediately—switching to Japanese.
"おはよう…?聞こえる?"
(Good morning? Can you hear me?)
The words flowed effortlessly.
No hesitation.
No mental translation.
No accent.
He felt his jaw tense, shocked. "Holy… this is cheating."
The screen twinkled.
[ Host is encouraged to use his gifts boldly! ]
Raj leaned back. "So I have a system that lets me communicate across worlds… and maybe procure items from alien flea markets. But I'm stuck in 1987 Mumbai."
He exhaled.
"Okay. Then let's start making money."
A Knock on the Door
Downstairs, someone shouted.
"Rajendra! Hurry up, beta! Your Uncle is leaving for the cotton mill!"
Rajendra froze.
Uncle.
Not the overworked man who died in 2025.
Not the exhausted, coughing shadow of a man.
Here — in 1987 — his father still wasn't alive anymore a few weeks ago he died in train accident returning from a long deal, from then on his uncle adopted him. And a cotton mill owner. the previous owner of the body while not showing any anguish or sadness keeping it deep beneath himself had died due to high depression and stress in his sleep last night.
Emotions hit him all at once—sharp, unexpected. He swallowed it down, stood, and went downstairs.
His Uncle now his Father, Manohar Shakuniya, waited near the doorway, adjusting his simple cotton kurta. He had the strong build of a man used to physical work, but his eyes held the calm sharpness of a businessman.
"You're awake, Rajendra? You fainted last night," Manohar said, concern buried under a composed voice. "Drink water. You look pale."
Rajendra nodded, voice soft. "…Yes, Baba."
Baba.
A word he had lost years ago. Hearing it again made something inside him tremble.
Manohar continued, "I'm going to the mill. Government supplier is coming at noon. They want to finalize the shipment for export clients. Could be big business."
Rajendra blinked. "Export? To where?"
"Japan, I think. The middleman is useless—keeps messing up translation." Manohar sighed. "If this fails, we lose the buyer."
A beat.
Japan.
A Japanese buyer.
Rajendra felt the system hum faintly, like it sensed opportunity.
His mind spun fast.
Language? Check.
Negotiation instinct? Check.
Knowledge of Japanese culture from anime + system? Check.
"Baba…" Rajendra said calmly, "Let me help."
Manohar blinked. "Help? In a foreign buyer negotiation? You're only twenty."
Rajendra simply smiled. "Let me try."
His father stared at him for a long moment—conflicted, doubtful, but desperate enough to take a chance.
"Fine. If you ruin it, I will pretend you are not my child," Manohar joked dryly.
Rajendra grinned. "Understood."
The Mill
By noon, the Shakuniya Cotton Mill buzzed with tension.
Stacks of cotton bales lined the main warehouse. Workers whispered among themselves. At the far end, three Japanese men in suits stood stiffly, waiting—one older, two younger.
The middleman, a sweaty man named Kulkarni, was desperately flipping through a Japanese phrasebook.
Rajendra stepped forward.
"こんにちは,皆さん," he said casually.
(Good afternoon, everyone.)
Every head turned.
The older Japanese man's eyes widened.
Kulkarni dropped his phrasebook.
Manohar nearly swallowed his tongue.
Rajendra bowed slightly—precise, respectful, culturally correct.
"新しい通訳としてお手伝いします."
(I'll be assisting as your new interpreter.)
The older Japanese buyer, Mr. Tanaka, blinked hard.
"You speak Japanese?"
Rajendra switched to perfect Tokyo dialect.
"はい.日常会話とビジネス会話は問題ありません."
(Yes. I am comfortable with both casual and business Japanese.)
Mr. Tanaka's stiff expression melted into relief.
"Amazing… finally someone who understands us."
Kulkarni looked betrayed. Manohar looked stunned.
Rajendra stepped between both parties, confident.
"Shall we begin?"
The Negotiation
The meeting room was small—wooden table, papers scattered, heat of Mumbai seeping through the walls. But the air felt electrified.
Rajendra began translating:
Tanaka (in Japanese):
"These cotton samples are promising. But the moisture content seems high in Batch 4."
Rajendra (in English/Hindi):
"Sir, they are worried Batch 4 has slightly high moisture."
Manohar frowned. "Tell them we have backup bales."
Rajendra switched instantly.
"ご安心ください.別のロットをご用意できます."
(Please rest assured, we have alternate batches available.)
Tanaka nodded, impressed.
The younger Japanese delegate whispered something nervously.
Rajendra's system pulsed.
[ Soft Skill "Cultural Reading — Lv.1" Activated ]
He understood instantly:
The buyer was embarrassed asking for extra discounts.
He wanted to negotiate politely without seeming rude.
Rajendra eased the tension.
"Tanaka-san, if you require adjustments in price for bulk purchase, we are open to discussing long-term partnership rates."
Tanaka's eyes widened. "You… you understood without us saying."
Rajendra smiled lightly. "Business is about intuition."
The negotiations sped up smoothly.
Moisture issue? Solved.
Quantity dispute? Clarified.
Price? Negotiated favorably for both.
Logistics? Rajendra explained Indian process in fluent Japanese.
He didn't just translate words.
He translated culture.
By the end of the meeting, Tanaka looked delighted.
"This young man," he said to Manohar, "is worth ten interpreters."
Rajendra bowed modestly.
The Closing Moment
Tanaka extended his hand.
"We accept the deal. First shipment: 40 tonnes."
Manohar stuttered. "Th-thank you, sir."
Rajendra relayed in Japanese:
"We look forward to a long partnership."
Tanaka laughed, shaking his hand warmly.
"Young man… if you ever come to Japan, look for me."
Rajendra stored that name in his heart.
Future arc potential: unlocked.
Payment
After the Japanese delegation left, Manohar leaned against a pillar, exhaling a year's worth of stress.
"You… You just saved the deal," he said quietly.
Rajendra shrugged. "Happy to help."
Manohar pulled out a small envelope.
Inside: ₹5,000.
A fortune for 1987.
Equivalent to nearly a month's salary for a mid-level worker.
"This is your share," Manohar said. "If I give you any less, I might be cursed by the gods."
Rajendra accepted it silently.
He didn't want to cry.
But something in his chest ached — gratitude, pride, and the surreal feeling of being alive again.
The System Reacts
Back in his room, the blue screen flickered on.
[ Earnings Detected: ₹5,000 ]
[ Contribution to Timeline: +5 ]
[ Reputation Increased: "Young Negotiator" ]
New window opened:
[ Unlock: Basic Procurement Channel ]
[ You may now request low-tier items for Earth-era commerce. ]
Another panel:
[ Skill Offer: "Cultural Diplomacy Lv.1" — 10 Reputation Points ]
Rajendra exhaled softly.
The game had begun.
And this time, he wasn't going to live an average life.