THE DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT-Chapter 96 - 95: The Life of a Factory Boy – Part I

Fantasy world

Kaelmart Soap factory

"Ah... I never thought soap could smell this nice," murmured a boy, no more than seventeen or eighteen, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hands slick with the remnants of cooled soap mix. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—not one of amusement, but of quiet wonder. "Even the air feels good."

His name was Boris—a simple, sturdy name, common among the folk of Ginip. He had never known comfort or luxury—only empty stomachs, patched clothing, and the unspoken duty of providing for those weaker than himself.

He was part of Group 3—the Pour and Mold team. There were fifteen members in total, all working side by side in the tall, warm hall of the factory. Their job was simple in words, but not in practice.

Large copper vats stood along the wall, still warm from the boil. The thick mixture inside—a blend of oils, lye, herbs, and water—had cooled to just the right point. Now it was ready to be poured.

Each worker had their own molds: wooden trays shaped into neat rectangles. The molds were lined up on long tables, and now, one by one, the workers carefully filled them.

Boris held a ladle in his right hand, moving with steady focus. He dipped it into the vat and slowly poured the golden soap mixture into an open mold. The trick was not to spill, not to pour too fast, and not to leave any bubbles. Each bar had to be perfect. That was the rule.

Next to him, another boy smoothed the tops of the bars with a flat wooden scraper, pressing gently to make the surface even. Others carried finished trays to the drying racks at the back of the hall. The curing shelves were stacked high—rows and rows of soap waiting to harden over the coming days.

Boris poured his final mold and wiped his hands on a rag.

Then—clang! clang! clang!

The bell rang three times from the far end of the hall. Work was finished for the day.

At once, the group moved. Wooden ladles were rinsed and hung neatly on hooks along the wall. Long tables were wiped clean with damp cloths. Buckets of leftover soap mix were set aside to be stored or reused. The final trays of fresh soap were carried to the tall drying shelves.

No one needed to be told what to do. This was a place of order, and Kael’s rules were always followed. If they weren’t, you could lose your job. And in Ginip, jobs like these were rare.

After finishing everything, Boris stepped away from the molding station and made his way toward the changing corner at the rear of the hall. It wasn’t a proper room, but a curtained-off area with wooden benches, shelves for gloves and aprons, and a few iron hooks hammered into the wall.

He untied his apron and pulled off the thick gloves he wore while pouring the hot soap mix into molds. He folded his apron with care—folds straight—and placed it in the workers’ basket, where all gear was kept until the next shift.

"Boris."

A middle-aged man approached him. freeweɓnovel-cøm

"The manager wants to see you."

Boris straightened up quickly.

"Ah—yes, of course. I’ll go right away. Thank you for telling me."

The man gave a small nod.

"No need to thank me. Just don’t keep him waiting."

Boris didn’t delay. He straightened his shirt and made his way toward the back of the factory, where the manager’s room stood—a small but well-kept chamber, with glass windows that overlooked the hall.

When Boris stepped in, Renn was seated behind a desk, pen scratching softly across a page in his notebook.

He looked up.

"Ah, Boris, you’re here," he said, setting the pen down and closing the book.

Renn opened a drawer and took out a small cloth pouch, tied with simple string. It clinked softly as he placed it on the desk.

"You asked for an advance on your wages, didn’t you?"

"Yes, sir," Boris said, stepping forward with both hands behind his back, polite and firm.

Renn gave a brief smile—not unkind. "Here you are then. Sixty copper coins. It should be enough for what you need."

"Thank you very much, sir. Truly, this will help my family a great deal," Boris said, bowing his head.

"Don’t thank me too quickly," Renn replied with a dry chuckle. "Remember that it will be deducted from your wages."

"Of course, sir. I understand."

Renn gave a slight nod of approval. Then, gesturing to a small wooden box on the side of the desk, he said, "Since you’re heading out now, I need a favor. Take that to Kaelmart on your way home."

Boris moved to pick it up, gripping it carefully.

"Yes, sir. It would be an honor," Boris said, straightening his back.

He bowed slightly. Then he left the office, stepping out into the wide hall, where all the workers were already making their way home.

Boris walked toward the main gate and stepped out. The sun was low now, casting long shadows over the dirt road.

Just as he began walking, a small voice called out from nearby.

"Big brother!"

He turned and saw a young girl running toward him. She looked about twelve, maybe a little older, with a single long braid bouncing behind her and a satchel slung across her shoulder. Her face was a little dusty, but her eyes were bright.

Boris stopped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you," she said, smiling like it was nothing.

Boris gave a quiet chuckle and gently patted her head. "You didn’t have to do that. It’s not safe to wait around alone."

"It’s fine," she said quickly. "Now that you’re done, let’s go home together."

He nodded, and the two of them started walking side by side.

There were few people here, because much of this place was abandoned.

They followed the dirt road quickly, knowing the sun wouldn’t wait for them. There were no lampposts here—only shadows growing longer with every passing minute.

But soon, the narrow path met a stone-paved road near the southern gate. Here, the streets were wider and lined with tall lamps. Some were already lit, casting soft golden light over the cobblestones. This was one of the city’s main roads, and much livelier than the places they had just passed through.

As they walked, the girl pointed at the wooden box her brother carried.

"What’s inside?"

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