THE DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT-Chapter 79 - 78: The Cloaked Strangers

The soap factory.

It had been three days since the first full production run. The once-confused workers now moved steadily between kettles and molds, hands skilled, feet sure. The smell of scented oils hung in the air—lavender, mint, lemon peel—blended with a light tang of lye and smoke.

Kael stood outside the factory’s main gate, watching the final cart of finished soap crates roll out toward the shop.

Business was rolling forward.

He turned to Renn, who stood beside him holding a wax-sealed ledger.

"We’re producing sixty blocks a day now," Renn reported, tone precise. "About forty are cured and wrapped by morning. We’ll hit higher numbers next week when the new molds arrive."

Kael nodded with satisfaction. "Keep an eye on quality. Don’t rush. A good product speaks louder than any street barker."

Renn chuckled. "Understood, boss."

Kael handed him a folded note. "Here’s the supplier list. If I’m not around, you handle them. Same goes for payments. Track everything."

Renn took the note, surprised. "You’re trusting me with this much?"

"I’m not giving you power, Renn. I’m giving you responsibility," Kael said simply. "This factory runs because of people, not just tools. You’re one of them now."

The dwarf Grondel passed by with his toolbox slung over one shoulder, grumbling cheerfully. "Damn pipes better not burst this time. If they do, I’m blaming the soap spirits."

Kael smirked. "You’ll get paid extra if they don’t."

"Then may the pipes live long!" Grondel waved, disappearing inside.

With things under control, Kael turned and stepped onto the dusty road.

The road was uneven, packed with dust, and lined with tall wooden fences that swayed slightly in the morning breeze.

A few wagons passed by—heavy wooden carriages pulled by oxen, horses, and sometimes even strong-backed drakes.

Kael walked alone, his pace relaxed.

He glanced at a passing carriage with shaded windows.

"...I should buy one," he muttered. "This walking everywhere is getting tedious."

A short laugh escaped him. "Ah, I’m getting lazy."

He stretched his arms behind his head as he walked.

Back on Earth, he used to walk for hours just to catch the cheapest bus or make it to a part-time shift at some cramped convenience store. He’d carry groceries home by hand to save a few cents. Long walks weren’t new to him—what was new... was having the choice not to.

Now, with money in his pockets and a business under his name, every extra step felt like a chore.

"Funny," Kael muttered. "I used to walk because I had to. Now I get annoyed just doing it."

"I think this is what happens when your pockets fill with gold," he murmured. "Luxury is a slow poison."

His gaze followed another passing wagon. The driver flicked the reins lazily, chewing on a straw.

Kael’s eyes dropped to the wagon’s wheels.

"Horses... wagons... It works, but it’s slow. And expensive." He tapped his chin. "If I bring bicycles into this world... that would change everything."

He could already imagine it—light, two-wheeled machines gliding through the streets. No need to feed a horse. No muck to clean up. Just pure mechanical efficiency.

He looked around—at the ox-pulled wagons straining under the sun, at sweating workers walking long distances with bundles on their backs.

"It would be revolutionary. Light transport for the common folk. Fast, efficient... affordable if I do it right. Even basic models, nothing fancy... it could change everything."

People would ride from town to village in under an hour. Deliveries would be faster. Even messengers could move quicker than horsemen on long roads.

It was brilliant.

But Kael stopped himself, eyes narrowing in thought.

"No. Not yet. I need to focus on the soap business first. Get the supply stable, build distribution, train more staff. One step at a time. Starting too many things at once... that’s how businesses fail."

He nodded, mentally shelving the idea for later.

Rather than follow the main merchant road, Kael turned onto a smaller footpath skirting the southern edge of the trade district—a shortcut he often used to avoid the midday wagon rush. The path wound between tall, untrimmed hedgerows and a patch of short pines. It was quiet, shaded, and usually safe.

But today, something was off.

Three figures stood where the trees opened briefly to the road beyond. They wore dark travel cloaks—dust-stained, plain, but too clean to belong to beggars. Hoods cast shadows over their faces. One carried a metal-tipped staff. Another had a short sword sheathed at the hip. The third, smaller and slighter, held something behind their back.

Kael’s gut tightened.

The woman at the front raised a gloved hand.

"Lord Kael," she said. "We’d like a moment of your time."

Kael stopped a few steps away, eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Who are you?"

"We’re not here to harm you," the woman said, voice calm but firm. "People have taken notice. Some speak well of you... others have questions. We were sent to bring you in—quietly, if possible."

Kael’s eyes sharpened.

"So, you’re not going to tell me who you are. And you want me to go with strangers to an unknown place?"

The second figure finally spoke, tone flat. "We’re not your enemies, Kael. But refusing could be... unwise. There are things we know—things you’ve done."

Kael’s expression darkened. "Do you think I’m stupid? That I’d just follow three cloaked strangers down a side trail like it’s nothing?"

The lead woman exhaled slowly, disappointment flickering in her voice.

"Then you leave us no choice."

Her staff flicked forward—barely a motion, but Kael’s instincts flared. Danger.

A violet pulse surged from the crystal.

In the next instant, a crushing wave of pressure slammed into his mind—like static tearing through his skull.

His breath hitched. The world tilted.

His knees gave out.

Darkness swallowed him.

He collapsed hard, dust rising around him as his body hit the ground—unconscious.

The three figures stood over him in silence.

"That was fast," the smaller one muttered, lowering her staff. "Told you the resonance crystal was tuned perfectly."

"We’ve got less than an hour before someone notices he’s gone," the second said, already pulling a cloak from their pack. "Wrap him. Let’s not draw eyes."

They draped a dull traveling cloak over Kael, obscuring his face and form.

Then they took him away.

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