Leo stared at the new balance on his holographic glass slab.
......
Date: 3 November 2099
Credits Left: 109.17
......
He had done it. He had successfully, and with great excitement, set 900 credits on fire.
His shell company was nothing but useless trademarks and a website that looked haunted. Moreover, he had an incoming shipment of lemons and bottles that would rot in his tiny apartment.
It was beautiful. It was perfect!
"Alright," Leo said, feeling like a devilish mastermind. "Now, we wait."
He again read the system’s rules. [...reimbursed at 200% rate at the end of every month]
It didn’t matter how many times he saw that line, he never grew bored of it.
"At the end of the month," he thought. "That’s thirty-one days from now."
He then looked back at his 109.17 credits. His triumphant smile slightly faltered.
If it was up to him, he would have spent it in the inventory as well. Unfortunately, he still needed to eat. It was the one major flaw of the mortal body.
Just like ships traveling across the galaxy, a human body also needed maintenance. The only difference was that the cost of maintenance of a human body wasn’t as astronomical as a ship’s.
His stomach let out a low growl, as if suddenly reminding him that he still hasn’t eaten.
"This is fine!" Leo clenched his fist. "Next month, I’ll be feasting! What a start to a new century it will be!"
Tring!
Soon, a chime from his door interrupted his fantasy. A delivery drone was hovering outside.
Leo accepted the packages. And kept accepting them. Crate after crates of bottled water. Crate after crates of lemons, whose scent already started filling the small room.
In ten minutes, his 15 square meter rented apartment was no longer an apartment. It was like a warehouse. Crates were stacked to the ceiling. He had to climb over a literal mountain of lemons just to get to his sleeping mat.
"Right," he said, his voice muffled by crates of bottles. "This is... a problem."
He couldn’t live here. Not like this. And what if the system didn’t count his loss until the inventory actually rotted or was proven unsellable?
When he ordered them, he was filled with excitement. He didn’t consider the limitations of his plan. His room was already filled and there were still many craters outside his door with no space to move them in.
He had to handle it. But he couldn’t just leave it out. What if the system interpreted that as internationally destroying property instead of a failed investment? He couldn’t take that risk.
He had to get rid of it, without selling it or tossing it out.
"Okay, a new plan," Leo said, climbing to the summit of Crater Mountain. "I have to get this out of my apartment."
He still had 109.17 credits. Even if he spent a few, he could still survive a month on a frugal lifestyle.
He thought of a plan and his eyes lit up. He exclaimed, "Shipping!"
"Isn’t marketing and shipping also included in business costs? Who says you have to put an advertisement for marketing? Isn’t sending samples to potential clients also part of marketing?"
"And who says samples have to be only a few units? Which law states that you can’t send your entire stockpile as samples?"
With a plan on his mind, he found a permanent marker. Each bottle that was delivered to him, was as per his instruction.
All of them had empty white labels for him to fill. He used the marker and wrote ’Leo’s Miraculous Lemon Elixir’ in each bottle and crater label. He even filled the expiry date and manufacturing date with a pen.
After he finished, the packaging looked like it was designed by a child. Even the handwriting was intentionally kept bad. Only a fool would order something sketchy like this which could easily be made at home.
That night, he opened every bottle and squeezed exactly one lemon inside them. He worked throughout the night, and sealed the bottles.
"It will expire in their inventory, and I’ll get the loss. How can I be so smart?" His face was filled with a grin as he finished.
He would ship his entire useless inventory to a place that would absolutely never use it. And what better place than the most secure, high-traffic, and serious building on the planet?
The Hero’s Guild Headquarters. They would never use such cheap and suspicious looking products even by accident.
He pulled up the galactic web, went to the shipping hub, and sorted it by "Cheapest."
One result popped up. "Glitzy’s Delivery Service. You ask, we deliver!"
It was perfect! He’d lose his inventory and only have to pay the delivery cost of fifty units.
There was only one problem. Their reviews of the service were a disaster.
"My package for Seventh Star ended up in a different galaxy. 1 star."
"Hired them to move a couch. They delivered a goat. I do not own a goat. 1 star."
"The delivery guy got lost in my driveway. For three days. 2 stars (he was very polite)."
"I asked for expedited shipping. I think they strapped my parcel to a very old, very confused turtle. Still pending delivery. 1 star."
"The driver said he delivered my package, but the tracking photo was just a blurry picture of his own thumb. 1 star."
"Ordered farm fresh eggs. They delivered an angry chicken. 1 star."
"My food delivery driver ate half my fries, then reviewed my performance as a customer. ’Door opened too slowly. 3 stars.’ 1 star for the service."
Leo read the reviews, not knowing if he should laugh or cry. Someone was giving his company competition in sketchiness.
If his samples expired before being delivered, or were delivered to the wrong place, would the system count it as a marketing expense? Then again, wasn’t that still a loss for his company?
He had no other choice since every other service was more expensive. And he still needed the absolute minimum for his food expenses for the month.
"It should do it!" Leo mumbled as he booked an immediate pickup.
Twenty minutes later, a weak knock echoed through his lemon-filled room. He climbed over the crates and opened the door.
Standing there, without a doubt, was the most weak looking person Leo had ever seen.
Glitzy’s uniform hung off the young man’s slim body. He looked about 18, with terrified eyes and a name tag that read timmy.
Timmy looked like he was going to fly off with even the weakest gust of wind, like a feather.
"Uh, Mr. Leo?" Timmy weakly said, flinching when Leo opened the door. "I’m here for the pickup?"
Leo nodded and gestured to the mountain of crates. "It’s all yours!"
Timmy’s eyes went wide. "All of it? But the order just said small goods"
"Aren’t Lemons small goods? What could be smaller than them?"
"But it’s around fifty craters?"
"Fifty-one, actually," Leo corrected, patting a box of lemons. "She’s a big one! It’s going to the Hero’s Guild downtown. Here’s the shipping fee."
He transferred fifty credits.
F-Rank Porter Timmy looked from the crates to his hand-trolley, then back to the crates. A single tear formed in his eye.
"This," Timmy mumbled, "is going to take a while."
It took three hours. Three agonizing hours of watching the world’s most inefficient porter move one crate at a time, dropping several, and apologizing repeatedly for his mistakes.
Finally, the last crate was loaded. Timmy, who looked like he had just wrestled a T-Rex, bowed nervously. "Thank you for your business, Mr. Leo! I’ll... I’ll try my best!"
"Oh, I know you will, Timmy!" Leo grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Just... do your worst."
"Sir?"
"Do your best! That’s what I said!"
Leo waved cheerfully as the kid wheeled the last crate away, loading it on the small rusty ship.
Leo closed the door, his apartment finally empty, except for a few remaining lemons.
He checked his glass slab one last time.
......
Date: 3 November 2099
Credits Left: 59.17
......
He had 59 credits left. Barely enough for one Stix. He was definitely going to survive this month, albeit like a beggar.
Still, it was the happiest he had ever been in his life. Finally, everything was in place.