"Haha." The round-faced merchant chuckled, not wanting to argue with Aelina. "We're practically colleagues. Give me two pairs of shoes for myself and my two hardworking brothers back there. How much for these fur shoes? May I take a look?"

He fiddled with a small pile of coins on the platform and flicked four silver pieces to Aelina.

"Four silvers." Aelina pushed the fluffy rabbit fur shoes toward him. The merchant pulled a crude crystal magnifying glass from a leather pouch around his neck. His dry, cracked hands rubbed the shoes. "This... it's not stitched at all. Like it grew as one piece. Unbelievable. How did you do it?"

Behind him, two guards drew curved blades, threatening the refugees.

"Picked from a tree." Aelina watched the merchant hogging the platform.

"How humorous."

"You wouldn't understand the craft even if I told you."

"I'm a customer now. I have the right to know if these shoes are—"

"Scared I'll steal your business? Spit it out. You're blocking my customers."

The round-faced merchant tossed her four silvers.

"You misunderstand me. I'm just an honest grain merchant here. We don't interfere with each other. I regret your refusal to cooperate, but I respect your choice. Remember, witch—respect is mutual. As long as you don't hurt my profits, we're peaceful colleagues. Come to me if you need help."

"Colleagues? I can't promise my sales won't affect your profits."

Aelina hated this roundabout chatter. Verbal communication was inefficient enough without beating around the bush.

"Very regrettable."

The merchant smiled, grabbed the rabbit fur shoes, and turned away. Nearby, ox carts rumbled in with grain, drowning out Aelina's shop in noise.

"Two pairs for me! Two pairs!"

"I was here first!"

Poor apes, Aelina thought. She took copper coins one by one, tossing shoes to paying customers. Her gaze pierced through gaps in the crowd, fixed on the round-faced merchant. She didn't believe he was just a traveling trader. Her ears caught surrounding sounds, analyzing them effortlessly—like finding a single thread in a tangled mess.

"I've found a strange witch. I feel she'll be the biggest obstacle in my mission, Panlov."

"Don't trust Gypsy prophecies too much, my round-faced friend. This task is simpler than you think. These starving wretches would trade anything for a potato."

"But the Church demands most of our grain goes to the Elves."

"As followers of the Goddess of Gold Coins, we should only see customers."

"No, I worry about the witch." The merchant's voice sounded anxious. "Magic... it's what I hate most."

"Look at our confident friend now. You shouldn't have entered that fortune-teller's tent. That Gypsy with the odd surname—Lan Yubian—scared you. By the Goddess, he really did."

"You're right." The merchant paused. "Her shoes are dirt cheap. We'll hire people to buy in shifts. She can't remember every face. Getting cheap, sturdy shoes to everyone? Haha, a child's dream. I laugh every time I hear it."

"Means the witch has a maiden's heart." His companion laughed too. "She must be thrilled seeing so many buyers. Perfect partnership—we pay people to buy shoes, she's happy, we profit. The Goddess will bless this deal."

Their voices faded, leaving only footsteps.

Aelina exited listening mode. Multitasking was basic. To the apes, the witch—wrapped head-to-toe, only golden eyes visible—seemed calmly trading all along.

In under ten minutes, everything sold out, even the ointments. Aelina claimed they stopped bleeding—a result of days studying plants.

"Closing up! Closing up!"

Aelina flipped the wooden sign above her head. Disappointed refugees left empty-handed.

But their disappointment didn't last. At dusk, a smooth white stone house sprouted a stone pipe from its sturdy wall. No one noticed when it appeared. The shop door burst open, and Aelina's booming voice echoed through the camp: "Custom shoes made on the spot! Straw sandals: two coppers. Leather boots: four silvers. Bring six jin of grass for durable sandals at three coppers—guaranteed quality!"

What magic was this? Word spread like wildfire. The whole camp buzzed. Adults and children rushed out—scythes in hand or bare fingers tearing grass. They queued at the shop, tossing grass skeptically into the stone pipe. Inside, Aelina greeted them warmly. She stuffed weeds into a large wooden box, waved her hands, swayed her hips, and chanted in an unknown tongue.

"Look! Behold!" Aelina slapped the box. A straw sandal landed on the platform. "Not just sandals. With materials—leather, cloth, even rabbit fur—I'll make you a warm fur coat."

A wagon loaded with belongings crossed the bridge. Hearing Aelina, a woman hesitantly offered two half-burnt cotton coats. Aelina stuffed them into the box and pulled out a brand-new coat moments later.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. That night, everyone wore shoes. Those without coins traded odd items: broken bowstrings, rusted iron like cotton, stinking leather. Even a beggar offered a stone. Aelina glanced at it. "Good. I'll take it!"

The round-faced merchant seized the opportunity. He hired people carrying baskets of grass and hides to queue at Aelina's shop.

"Two pairs per person! Two custom orders only!" Aelina shouted. Some cheaters tossed items inside, yelling, "Make this for me!"

Aelina would smile, pull out a crossbow with both hands. One hothead didn't believe she'd shoot. Now his ear was missing a chunk.

"Boss." The merchant's henchman dragged the screaming, ear-clutching ape aside. He placed a grass basket on the platform. "Two pairs for me."

"You already bought." Aelina glanced at him. "Next! Next!"

This one was honest, awed by magic. He turned and left quietly.

The second man was another henchman—a shifty-eyed, skinny guy with claw marks on his face. "Boss, two pairs for me."

"You bought too."

"Impossible!" he yelled. "I just arrived today. You're mistaken."

He was confident. He'd bought shoes at noon, hiding earlier while hunting rats. With hundreds in camp, he doubted Aelina remembered every face.

"Oh? Weren't you and your buddy selling roasted rats this morning?" Aelina pointed at the crowd. "No cheating. I know a round-faced guy hired you. I remember every face—even if you smear shit on yours. You there!"

Aelina suddenly pointed at a crouching man. The crowd followed her finger. He jerked up, black dirt crumbling off his face. He grinned and fled with his basket.

Forty meters away, the merchant watched from his wagon. Aelina's voice cut through the noise. He turned to his aide. "Tell them to change clothes. That witch is bluffing. She can't remember everyone."

As he spoke, Aelina's voice rang out: "Who says I can't, big round face?" She mimicked his tone: "That witch is bluffing. She can't remember everyone."

Hearing his own voice, he tumbled off the wagon, nearly falling.

The crowd at Aelina's shop thinned. By 8 PM, darkness fell. Aelina shut the door. A full bucket sat by her feet. She sealed the first floor with the Molecular Reconstructor.

Today, 452 people traded with her. She earned 2,978 coppers and 48 silvers. Less than looting, but looting couldn't happen daily. Business could.

She also gained odd items. The beggar's stone was most precious—inside, 19.4g of semiconductor. Aelina locked it in a basement stone.

Traded food piled high. On the roof, she lit a fire, cooked five eggs and wheat into bread, and stuffed it down.

Night was utterly quiet. Thousands slept to a silent lullaby. Dozens of campfires glowed in the dark, dancing in the cold air. Apes huddled around flames, fast asleep. Full and idle, Aelina leaned on the roof, watching them. Humans once lived like this, she thought—curling by fire on icy nights, surviving on its warmth. Fire brought safety. They lacked one fire: one to banish this dark age, bringing food and warmth.

They're lucky. I bring wildfire—the flame of technology will blaze in this world, driving out darkness.

"Citizen X, Article 987 of the Primitive Civilization Protection Act forbids altering primitive civilizations without permission... System alert: your plan violates this law."

"Shut down."

Aelina muttered, "Ridiculous. You never complained when I built a harem. But helping backward apes? You jump out."

"Forcing advanced knowledge on primitives always causes disaster—"

Aelina dragged the warning program to the recycle bin and shredded it.

Night deepened. Everyone slept. Aelina needed no rest. Boredom hit hard. She thought of a certain Golden Ape—he was dumb but fun. With him around, boredom faded. Remembering him now brought a faint sadness, like finding a stray golden retriever pup, raising it for twelve days, eight hours, and seven minutes... only to lose it to someone else.

As this sadness lingered, her ears caught a familiar sob. The source was five hundred meters away.

Matching the soundwave to her database, she smiled. "The priestess... crying hard? Future Maid No. 1, your future master comes to comfort you."