In just a few short hours, the Azra Family Company stall had become the talk of Rat Town. News of our fresh, delicious, and radiation-free sourdough bread and clean bottled water spread like wildfire. The allure of safe, high-quality food at affordable prices was simply too irresistible for the townsfolk.
Thanks to the trust and rapport Natasha and I had built with the locals, people felt confident in the authenticity of what we were selling. Radiation-free food and drink were considered luxuries in this world, rare treasures everyone wanted but few could afford. Now, here they were, available to all at prices so low it almost seemed unbelievable. And the people… well, they couldn't get enough.
"Hey, Martha, get over here!"
a man called out, waving frantically to a woman further down the street.
"They've got fresh sourdough and clean water—and it's cheap!"
Martha hurried over, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the stall.
"Fresh sourdough?" she asked, almost in disbelief. "Is it really fresh?"
"Smell it yourself!"
he replied, pointing at the boxes.
"And the water… it's crystal clear! You'd better grab some before it's all gone."
Nearby, a young boy tugged on his father's arm.
"Papa, can we get some? Please? Everyone's buying it!"
The father hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"Alright, but we'll need enough to last us a week. Let's get a few boxes while we can."
The buzz in the crowd grew louder as more people called out to friends and family.
"Anna, come quick!" another woman shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "You won't believe this. They've got bread that's as big as your head!"
"Get in line, quick!" someone else added. "This stuff won't last long!"
It wasn't long before the line doubled in size, with people eagerly chatting and calling out to those they knew. The stall had become the center of attention, drawing in the entire town like moths to a flame.
Our products flew off the shelves as people eagerly lined up, some buying five or more items in a single purchase. Nobody questioned the pricing; they knew a good deal when they saw one. The stall grew so crowded that the Rat Town guards had to step in to maintain order. Rooney, ever dependable, brought a few guards to keep the lines organized and prevent any incidents.
"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Rooney called out, his voice commanding yet friendly.
"We need you to form a single, orderly line! No pushing, no shoving—there's enough for everyone as long as we stay calm and cooperative. Let's keep this running smoothly, alright?"
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd as people shuffled into a proper queue. Rooney walked up and down the line, giving encouraging nods.
"That's better! Thank you, everyone. Trust me, you'll get your turn."
Scarlett found herself juggling two roles: acting as our security and hauling stock from the truck to the counters. She moved tirelessly back and forth, carrying heavy boxes of bread and water to keep up with the demand. Each box of bread contained ten loaves of sourdough, while each water box held ten bottles. With prices set at two coins per box, our stall could potentially make 10,000 coins if we sold out our entire stock of 500 boxes.
Of course, I'd intentionally capped the daily stock at 500 boxes to avoid drawing suspicion. My cab truck, with its secret cargo space, had a realistic capacity of about 50 to 100 boxes. No one needed to know about my magical inventory. To the people of Rat Town, it simply looked like I had a well-organized truck that could carry just enough for a day's sales.
By 1 PM, we had already sold 170 boxes of both bread and water, leaving only 80 of each. Despite this, the line of eager customers still snaked far into the distance. It was an incredible sight.
On my side of the stall, however, things were quieter. I stood calmly at the grill, flipping burger patties and sausages with a smile. I understood why people weren't flocking to my counter just yet. The pricing for my cooked dishes was considered a bit steep: two coins for a burger set (which included a burger and a 500ml bottle of water) and the same for a hotdog set. While the smell of sizzling meat was tantalizing, the smaller size of the buns made the sourdough loaves a more practical choice for most.
As I worked, Rooney approached my stall, his face alight with curiosity.
"Azra, what are you selling here?" he asked with a grin.
I looked up, a playful glint in my eye. "The most delicious thing you'll ever taste," I said confidently.
Rooney let out a hearty laugh. "Big words, my friend. I'll be the judge of that!"
"Then let me make you something that will prove my claim," I replied, already reaching for the ingredients.
"Alright," Rooney said, his amusement clear. "Give me one burger set and one hotdog set. Let's see if you can back up your words."
As Rooney handed me four coins, I decided to put on a little show. I flipped the patties and sausages with a flourish, letting the sizzling sound capture the attention of nearby onlookers. Then, I began assembling the burger. When the fresh, vibrant red of sliced tomatoes and the crisp green of lettuce appeared, Rooney's eyes widened. Around us, the crowd fell silent, their curiosity piqued. Fresh vegetables were a rarity in this world, something most people had only heard about in stories.
Next came the sauces. As I slathered the buns and patties with ketchup and mustard, the crowd's reaction was immediate. Whispers turned into audible gasps, and a murmur of excitement rippled through the onlookers.
"Is that… ketchup?" an older man exclaimed; his voice filled with disbelief. "I've only ever heard about it in old stories!"
"And mustard too!" a young woman added, craning her neck to get a better view. "I didn't think anyone could still make these."
The vivid colors and mouth-watering aroma left everyone mesmerized. A child tugged at his mother's sleeve, pointing eagerly. "Mama, I want to try that! It looks so good!"
The mother smiled; her eyes filled with longing. "Patience, sweetie. Let's see if it's worth the stories they tell."
The whispers grew louder, with people speculating how such rare condiments had found their way into Rat Town. Some stared at the bright red and yellow sauces with reverence, while others simply leaned closer, drawn in by the tantalizing sight and scent.
When the burger and hotdog were complete, I placed them on a tray and handed them to Rooney. His eyes were glued to the food, his expression a mix of disbelief and excitement.
"Here you go," I said with a grin. "The finest meal you'll have in Rat Town."
Rooney accepted the tray, momentarily speechless. He handed over the coins without hesitation, his focus entirely on the freshly made food in front of him. Little did he realize, the entire crowd was watching him with bated breath, eager to see his reaction. This moment wasn't just about Rooney; it was about the promise of something extraordinary, something that could bring a glimmer of joy to a world that had long forgotten such pleasures.