The last thing I smelled was the divine, artificial aroma of a freshly fried Karaage-kun chicken snack. The last thing I heard was the soul-crushing beep of a customer's credit card being declined for the third time while a line of twenty salarymen behind him groaned in a synchronized chorus of misery.
In the world of Japanese convenience stores, that sound is the herald of a localized apocalypse. I was halfway through my "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience" bow—the one I'd perfected over ten years of night shifts and Karen-encounters—when the Slurpee machine behind me decided to achieve cold fusion. There was a roar of pressurized sugar, a flash of neon-blue light, and then—nothingness.
I, Kai Katsuragi, ten-year veteran of the Tokyo retail wars, was dead. Or so I thought.
When I opened my eyes, the fluorescent hum of Store #402 was gone. In its place was a silence so heavy it made my ears ring. I was face down in a pile of moss that felt like wet velvet and smelled like ancient, damp cedar. My lungs burned as if I'd just run a marathon through a smog cloud, and my head was thumping with the rhythm of a heavy metal drummer on a caffeine bender.
"Ugh... did the compressor finally blow?" I croaked, pushing myself up.
My palms came away green and slimy. I looked down at myself and froze. My sharp white polo was gone. My designer trousers? Disappeared into the void. Instead, I was wearing a rough, scratchy tunic made of undyed linen that felt like it was woven out of steel wool. It was cinched at the waist with a frayed hemp rope that looked like it had been chewed on by a goat. My feet were shoved into primitive leather boots that felt like they were made of dried cardboard and spite.
"What is this? Did I get reincarnated into a burlap sack?" I hissed, itching my collar.
[ Ping! ]
A translucent blue screen flickered into existence six inches from my nose. It didn't look like a holy message from a Goddess. It looked like a buggy, high-tech HUD designed by a software engineer who hated his job.
[ User Identified: Kai Katsuragi. ]
[ Title: Bottom-Tier Retail Slave. ]
[ Current Status: Pathetic. ]
"Excuse me?" I swatted at the air, my retail-induced patience finally snapping. "Who are you calling a slave? I was an Assistant Manager! I had a five-year plan and a rewards card with 40,000 points!"
[ Welcome to the Earth's Supermarket System. You have been reincarnated into the world of Gaea because the Universe required a soul with 'unnatural patience for idiocy' and 'procurement expertise.' ]
"Gaea? Is this a joke? Where are the dragons? Where's my Holy Sword?" I looked around. The trees here were the size of skyscrapers, their bark thick and gnarled like the skin of prehistoric monsters. Sunlight filtered down in dusty, golden shafts, lighting up insects that looked like they belonged in a horror movie.
[ You don't get a sword, Kai. You can barely handle a box cutter without a safety briefing. Opening Initial Account... ]
[ Balance: ¥5,000. ]
[ Note: You are currently dressed in 'Peasant's Rags (Durability 10/10)'. Try not to die of embarrassment before you make a sale. ]
I stared at the number. ¥5,000. It was roughly 35 dollars. In a world of monsters and magic, my entire net worth was a single crisp bill and some change. I felt a familiar cold sweat—the kind you get when the rent is due in two days and your paycheck is still "processing."
"Okay... okay, think, Kai," I muttered, adjusting my scratchy tunic. "I have a System. I have Yen. This is just procurement. I'm a buyer now. System, open the Supermarket interface."
The screen shifted. It looked like a high-end digital ordering kiosk. Categorized tabs for Food & Beverage, Home Goods, Electronics (Locked), and Pharmaceuticals (Locked). I scrolled through. A bottle of mineral water? ¥110. A pack of instant ramen? ¥180. A simple plastic lighter? ¥150. It was a dream come true—until I saw the red text at the bottom.
[ Dimensional Logistics Fee: ¥50 per gram. ]
I froze. "Fifty yen per gram? Are you kidding me? A liter of water weighs a thousand grams! That's ¥50,000 in shipping for a ¥110 bottle of water! That's a 45,000% markup just to get it out of the portal!"
[ Efficiency is for winners, Kai. You are currently a loser. Level up your Sales Rank to reduce logistics costs. Or, you know... just die thirsty. The System doesn't care. ]
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't just "buy" my way to power. I had to be strategic. I needed to find things in Gaea that were light but valuable to sell to the System to build my Yen reserves, and find things on Earth that were light but "miraculous" to this world to sell for Gold.
I spent the next hour scraping "Silver-Veined Moss" from the skyscraper-sized trees to build my capital. Every time I reached for a patch, I expected a goblin to jump out and shiv me, but the forest stayed eerily quiet.
[ Sale Successful. New Balance: ¥6,500. ]
By the time the sun dipped, I reached the gate of Oakhaven. It was a cluster of stone and timber behind a massive wooden palisade. A guard leveled a rusted spear at my chest. "Entry fee is three bronze coins. No coin, no entry. We don't take beggars in rags."
I reached into the System shop. I needed something light. I found a small, travel-sized bottle of Hand Sanitizer (Lemon Scented).
Price: ¥300. Weight: 50g. Logistics Fee: ¥2,500.
[ Transaction Confirmed. Wallet Balance: ¥3,700. ]
A small plastic bottle materialized in my hand. I didn't let him see where it came from. "Wait," I said, holding it up. "This is 'Holy Water of Cleansing.' One drop kills all filth."
The guard was mesmerized by the lemon scent—a scent that didn't exist in this mud-caked town—and the instant cleanliness. He let me pass, probably thinking he'd just met a weird, lemon-scented saint.
I stepped into Oakhaven. The streets smelled of wet dog and despair. I found the Old Oak Inn, where a girl in the courtyard was struggling with laundry. The wind blew, and a heavy linen tunic fell into the mud.
"Damn it!" she cried, her voice cracking with exhaustion.
I walked over, my rough boots squelching in the mud. "You need a solution for that, kid."
"A room is 25 bronze," she snapped, not even looking at my peasant clothes. "Talk to my mother if you're staying. I have work to do."
I opened my UI. I needed the Neon-Blue Plastic Laundry Pegs (Pack of 15).
Weight: 100g. Cost: ¥500. Logistics: ¥5,000.
[ Transaction Confirmed. Wallet Balance: -¥1,800. ]
[ Warning: You are now in 'System Debt'. Interest is 10% daily. ]
I ignored the red flashing text and pulled the bright blue pegs from my tunic pocket. I snapped one onto the line, pinning the wet tunic with a satisfying click. I shook the line hard. It held firm. The girl stared as if I'd just performed a miracle.
Then her mother, a woman with arms like tree trunks and an expression that could curdle milk, marched out. "What's this magic? Who's this beggar touching our laundry?"
"I'm a merchant," I said smoothly, leaning against the gate. "And these are 'Ever-Grips.' Made from a rare, waterproof resin from the Far East. They don't rot, they don't splinter, and they never let go. The standard price is 30 bronze for five pegs."
The Innkeeper's eyes narrowed. "30 bronze? I can buy a sack of flour for that."
"True," I countered. "But one ruined silk dress or a week of re-washing mud out of your linens costs more than a hundred of these. However... since I'm looking for a base of operations, I'll make you a deal. I'll give them to you for 15 bronze per five pegs."
She looked interested. 15 bronze was half-price.
"But," I added, raising a finger. "That's only if you waive my room fee—the 25 bronze per night—for a full week. You get fifteen of these 'Ever-Grips' to keep, and I get a bed. You're basically getting 45 bronze worth of elite tools for a room that would otherwise sit empty."
The Innkeeper's eyes flickered with greed. In her head, she was winning. She thought the "standard price" was 30, so she was getting a massive discount and securing a guest. She snatched the bag of pegs before I could change my mind.
"Deal!" she barked. "Margot, get the gentleman a key! The one with the window!"
[ Ping! ]
[ System: Trading ¥5,500 worth of plastic for a service valued at ¥17,500 local equivalent. You're a predatory capitalist in a peasant's shirt. I'm almost impressed. ]
I walked up the creaking stairs, my knees aching. I had a room. I had a base. But I was in debt to a jerk-tier System and my only assets were whatever I could scrap together.
I sat on the bed and looked out the window. My heart stopped. Below in the market, three men in dark, soot-stained cloaks were moving with purpose. They weren't shopping. One of them held a piece of red chalk and drew a jagged 'X' on the door of the Old Oak Inn.
He looked up, and for a split second, his cold, dead eyes met mine. He didn't see a merchant. He saw a target.
[ Warning: Your presence has triggered the Oakhaven Shadow Tax. ]
[ Current Yen Balance: -¥1,800. ]
[ Survival Probability: 14%. ]
"A week of free rent," I sighed, looking at my trembling hands. "And I'm going to be murdered before I even get a cold breakfast. Welcome to the world of Gaea, Kai. Hope you can sell your way out of a grave."