Building a Conglomerate in Another World

Chapter 3: The Work

Chapter 3: The Work

"So...you actually got a job, huh?" Benson muttered, leaning against the wall as he watched Matthew scrub the dirt and grime off at the pump behind the station. His tone was incredulous, but there was also a hint of something else—maybe begrudging respect.

Matthew, still scrubbing his arms and face, glanced over at him. "Yeah, guess I did. Seems like Railmaster Stone thinks I'm worth a shot."

Benson snorted, shaking his head. "Well, don't screw it up. Stone's a good man, but he won't tolerate mistakes. One slip-up, and you're back to being another street rat."

"I'll keep that in mind," Matthew replied.

He knew Benson didn't expect much from him, but that was fine. Matthew had faced bigger challenges than this. If anything, these low expectations were an advantage—it meant no one would see him coming when he started making changes.

Once he had cleaned up as much as possible, Matthew stood and stretched.

Seeing that he is all washed up, Benson spoke. "Now follow me as I will lead you to your quarters."

Benson led Matthew away from the pump and through the dimly lit station yard.

The station yard was a sprawling, chaotic place. Freight cars stood idle on the tracks, some being loaded with goods, others waiting for the next morning's departure. The smell of coal smoke and oil hung heavy in the air. As they walked, Benson glanced at Matthew.

"So, what made you come to the railways, anyway?" Benson asked gruffly. "Seems like there'd be easier work elsewhere."

Matthew hesitated for a moment before answering, trying to gauge how much he should reveal. "I figured it's a good place to learn how things work," he said, keeping his answer vague. "Railways are important, right? They connect everything."

Benson grunted, seemingly satisfied with the response. "Aye, they do. More than most folks realize. But it's hard work. Don't expect to stay clean or comfortable."

They approached a row of small, weathered shacks at the far end of the yard, tucked away near the edge of the station's property. Benson stopped in front of one and pushed the door open, revealing a small, modest room inside. There was a cot in the corner, a small table with a single chair, and an oil lamp.

"This'll be your place for now," Benson said. "It's not much, but it's better than sleeping on the street."

Matthew nodded, grateful for any shelter at this point. "Thanks."

Benson eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. "Don't mention it. Get some rest. Stone's not kidding when he says tomorrow will be a long day. You'll need to be up before dawn to handle that shipment."

"Seems dangerous," Matthew commented, trying to sound casual.

"It is," Stone admitted with a grunt. "But it's what we've got. Unless you have a better idea."

This could be a major opportunity. An improved braking system would make the trains safer and more efficient. But—it would take significant investments and in this era, safety is not the primary concern of any businessmen, it was profits. What's more, the idea that he had in mind required significant investments, and the returns won't be much as for the businessmen, they are just an unnecessary gadget.

The train came to a full stop, and the workers moved into action, unloading cargo from the freight cars. Matthew joined in, helping where he could.

As the day wore on, Matthew became more familiar with the flow of work. He kept his eyes open, absorbing everything—how the workers communicated, the logistics of loading and unloading, and the overall inefficiencies in the system. It was clear that this world, while functional, was far from reaching its full potential.

By the end of the day, Matthew was exhausted.

"Here's your salary for the day,"

Railmaster Stone handed Matthew a money envelope to him.

"Uhm—Sir Stone, uhm can I ask you something about the currency? Like what is the name of the currency, the denomination, what is the minimum, what can I get for this, everything."

Railmaster Stone raised an eyebrow at Matthew's sudden interest in the currency, sensing that something was off. For a boy who had lived in Sylvania his whole life, asking such basic questions seemed out of place. Stone leaned back, crossing his arms, scrutinizing Matthew more closely.

"Curious, aren't you? Most folk don't ask questions like that unless they've been living under a rock," Stone remarked

Matthew realized that his questions might come across as odd, but he couldn't take them back now. Thinking quickly, he shrugged casually.

"I guess I just never paid much attention to money before, sir. I've always focused on getting by day to day, so I never really learned much about it."

Stone didn't seem fully convinced, but he let it slide for now. "Fair enough. Well, the currency here is called Florins. You've got smaller denominations called Cents—a hundred Cents makes a Florin. Pretty simple system, really. As for what you can get with it," he said, pointing at the coins Matthew had just been paid, "that's about a day's wages. It'll get you a basic meal and maybe a place to stay for the night."

"Thanks, sir," Matthew said, pocketing the coins. "I appreciate the explanation."

Stone gave him a sharp look. "You're still asking strange questions, boy, but just make sure you know how to spend what you earn wisely. Work hard, keep your head down, and you'll do just fine."