Chapter 3: Value of Money and Determination

Ernest watched his mother purchase food at the supermarket. She’d always frown whenever she saw the prices on the wooden board. He understood it’s expensive but how expensive?

He doesn’t have a grasp on how valuable money was in this world yet.

Back on Earth, Ernest could immediately tell whether something was cheap or expensive just by looking at the price tag.

Here?

He was completely clueless.

The wooden boards displayed numbers beside the goods, but without understanding the actual value of the currency, those numbers meant almost nothing to him.

Anna picked up several potatoes before asking the merchant for the price.

"Thirty riels," the merchant answered casually.

Anna visibly hesitated for a second before still handing over the coins.

Ernest immediately noticed that reaction.

Even thirty sounded expensive to her.

Interesting.

As they continued moving through the market, Ernest quietly observed more prices.

Bread ranged around twenty to forty riels depending on size.

Vegetables were cheaper.

Meat was absurdly expensive.

One decent chunk of pork alone cost several hundred riels.

No wonder his family barely ate any.

Eventually, Ernest could no longer suppress his curiosity.

"Mother," he called quietly while walking beside her.

"Hm?"

"What’s the name of our currency again?"

Anna blinked.

"...Riels?"

"Ah... right."

He quickly pretended to remember.

Honestly, the original Ernest barely cared about economics, so the inherited memories regarding currency were vague.

Anna narrowed her eyes slightly.

"You really did forget a lot after your fever."

Ernest awkwardly laughed.

"My head still feels strange sometimes."

Anna sighed before continuing to shop.

Still, Ernest decided to continue asking carefully.

"So... how does the currency work exactly?"

This time Anna looked genuinely confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Like... the different coin values."

Anna paused briefly before reaching into the small pouch hanging from her waist.

She pulled out several coins and showed them to him while they walked.

"These are small copper coins," she explained. "Each one is worth ten riels."

Ernest looked carefully.

The coin looked rough and manually stamped.

No milling precision whatsoever.

Anna then showed another slightly larger copper coin with a hole in the middle.

"This is a middle copper coin. Worth one hundred riels."

Then another larger copper coin.

"One thousand riels."

Ernest quietly listened.

After that came silver coins.

Small silver coin.

Ten thousand riels.

Large silver coin.

One hundred thousand riels.

And finally gold coins.

Though Anna only showed them from a distance from another merchant because obviously they did not own any themselves.

"One small gold coin is one million riels," Anna explained quietly.

"And large gold coins are ten million."

Ernest’s eyes widened slightly.

That was... actually a pretty organized currency system.

Decimal-based too. Far more structured than he expected from a medieval kingdom.

Though manually minted coins still limited economic scalability.

His engineering and economic instincts immediately started analyzing things again.

The problem with coin-based economies was metal supply and minting consistency.

Without industrial minting systems, counterfeit prevention would become difficult.

Also, carrying large sums physically would be extremely inconvenient.

Still, compared to barter economies, this was already far more advanced.

Then another question immediately entered Ernest’s mind.

"How much does father earn?"

Anna froze slightly while holding a cabbage.

"Why are you asking that?"

"I’m just curious."

Anna looked at him quietly for a moment before sighing.

"Your father earns around eight thousand to ten thousand riels a month if work is consistent."

Ernest’s eyes immediately narrowed slightly.

So around one small silver coin monthly.

That was rough, very rough.

Especially considering meat alone could cost hundreds of riels while rent, firewood, clothing, and debt still existed.

That meant common laborers lived almost entirely paycheck to paycheck.

Actually, worse.

Because unlike modern workers, there were no labor protections here. There was no healthcare, no insurance, no worker’s rights.

One sickness alone could financially destroy an entire family.

Which already happened to them.

"What about blacksmiths?" Ernest asked next.

"Actual blacksmith owners earn more," Anna answered. "Much more if they have contracts with merchants or nobles."

Makes sense.

Skilled labor always climbed higher economically.

Especially in pre-industrial societies.

Metalworking was essential infrastructure here.

Ernest quietly processed everything.

Eight thousand to ten thousand monthly income.

Bread around thirty.

Meat several hundred.

Basic survival already consumed most earnings.

No wonder poverty was everywhere.

And honestly, from an economic perspective, it perfectly matched a low-productivity society.

Human labor simply produced too little value.

Industrialization changed Earth because machines multiplied productivity massively.

A single machine could outperform dozens of workers.

That increased output.

Which increased wealth, which lowered production costs.

This world had not reached that stage yet.

Meaning labor remained brutally inefficient.

"Why are you asking so many strange questions today?" Anna suddenly asked while placing vegetables into her basket.

Ernest paused briefly before answering carefully.

"I just realized I don’t really understand how hard you and father work."

Anna blinked slightly.

Then for the first time since arriving at the market, she smiled genuinely.

"You really did change after your fever."

If only you knew how much, Ernest thought internally.

"Do you have any questions my dear?" Anna asked.

Ernest shook his head. "No, that would be all mother. Thank you for answering my questions."

"No problem dear, everything for you."

"So what are you making for dinner?" Ernest asked while looking at the vegetables inside the basket.

Anna glanced down at the contents before answering.

"Potato stew."

Ernest nodded slowly.

Honestly, that sounded about right for a poor household in a medieval world.

Honestly, that sounded about right for a poor household in a medieval world, it was cheap and filling, and capable of feeding multiple people with minimal ingredients.

Still, his modern tastebuds quietly mourned internally.

No seasoning.

No proper broth.

Probably no oil either.

Just boiled vegetables and whatever scraps they could afford.

As they continued walking through the market, Ernest kept observing everything around him carefully.

Now that he understood the value of money better, the market suddenly looked different.

Much different.

Earlier, he only saw goods.

Now, he saw labor value.

That loaf of bread?

Someone spent hours planting wheat, harvesting it manually, grinding flour, kneading dough, and baking it without modern equipment.

Those iron tools?

Someone mined the ore manually, transported it through carts, smelted it using charcoal furnaces, then forged each piece by hand.

Everything here consumed absurd amounts of labor.

And that labor inefficiency was exactly why people remained poor.

He could make loads of money if he could get his hands on some tools. Well, he could start small, for example the soap. He knew how to make one so long that he had the ingredients and the materials.

For example, animal fats. Well, there are a lot around but he wondered how he’ll get one? Ask his mother? A soap needs an oil and and lye. Ash was easy enough. Their house literally had a fireplace.

Animal fat though?

That was the difficult part.

Poor families like theirs rarely wasted anything from meat. Fat was either cooked immediately or sold because it still had value.

Still...

Ernest glanced toward a butcher stall nearby where scraps and leftovers were piled in a wooden container.

Wait.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Maybe not all animal fat was considered valuable.

Some parts were probably discarded or sold cheaply.

"Mother," Ernest called while still walking beside her.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask for help with something?"

Anna looked surprised by the sudden question.

"What kind of help?"

Ernest hesitated briefly.

He obviously could not just say he wanted to manufacture soap using medieval chemistry.

That would sound suspicious.

So instead, he carefully chose his words.

"I... want to try making something."

Anna blinked.

"Making what?"

"...Soap."

The moment the word left his mouth, Anna visibly frowned in confusion.

"Soap?"

"Yeah."

Ernest pointed subtly toward the gray soap bars being sold nearby.

"The ones they sell here smell terrible."

Anna looked even more confused now.

"Well... yes. Soap usually smells bad."

Ernest almost twitched internally hearing that.

No.

Soap was not supposed to smell like wet ash mixed with burnt animal remains. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

That was just bad soap.

"I think I can make a better one," Ernest said carefully.

Anna stared at him for several seconds before suddenly laughing softly.

Not mocking laughter.

More like amused disbelief.

"You?"

Ernest awkwardly scratched his cheek.

"...Maybe."

Anna shook her head lightly.

"Ernest, making soap is not easy."

Actually, it was not that complicated historically.

Dangerous if done improperly because of lye, yes.

But not impossible.

Still, Ernest kept quiet.

Anna continued walking while adjusting the basket in her arm.

"Besides," she added, "why would you even want soap?"

Ernest blinked as if the answer was obvious.

"To clean..."

Anna looked at him like the answer was obvious.

"We already clean ourselves with water."

There it was.

Different standards.

To people in this world, water alone was already considered enough hygiene for ordinary life.

Meanwhile, Ernest came from a world where people used shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, deodorant, toothpaste, detergent, and antibacterial soap daily.

The gap in hygiene expectations was enormous.

"But soap helps remove dirt better," Ernest insisted lightly.

Anna sighed.

"It’s expensive, smells awful, and dries the skin."

Well... she was not wrong about the soap sold here.

From what Ernest observed earlier, those crude bars were probably harsh lye soap with poor refinement and leftover impurities.

Honestly, they probably did irritate the skin.

Still, that only made the business opportunity even bigger.

A cleaner, smoother, better-smelling soap could absolutely dominate this market.

Especially among merchants and nobles.

The issue remained resources.

"I don’t need much," Ernest said carefully. "Just maybe some leftover animal fat and ash."

Anna immediately stopped walking.

"...Why do you need animal fat?"

Uh oh.

Right.

That sounded suspicious.

Ernest quickly tried salvaging the conversation.

"For experiments?"

Anna stared at him blankly.

"Experiments?"

"...I’m curious."

That honestly sounded worse.

Anna sighed deeply before rubbing her forehead.

"That fever really damaged your brain."

Ernest coughed awkwardly.

Still, Anna eventually shook her head again.

"No."

"Hm?"

"We’re not wasting money or materials on strange hobbies."

Honestly, Ernest expected that answer already.

Their financial situation was too fragile for random experiments.

Every resource mattered.

Even animal scraps probably still had some practical use.

"Besides," Anna added while resuming walking, "soap-making smells terrible during boiling. The neighbors would complain."

Actually... that part was true too.

Traditional soap production could smell horrible depending on the fat quality and refinement process.

Especially without proper fragrance additives.

Ernest quietly sighed internally.

Makes sense.

From Anna’s perspective, her recently fever-stricken son suddenly asking for animal fat to make homemade soap probably sounded insane.

Still...

He was not giving up on the idea.

Not even close.

Because the more Ernest observed this world, the more convinced he became that even simple quality-of-life improvements could become valuable businesses here.

And unlike impossible dreams like steam engines or factories, soap was realistic.

He simply needed a better approach.

Maybe gather materials slowly himself.

Or find discarded scraps.

Either way, the idea remained alive inside his head. He won’t give up here.

Because the stake here is his comfort. He doesn’t want to smell bad because he only washed with water, and who knows, water is not that pure as they only got it from the river.

"Fine mother," Ernest said.