That night, Ernest did not sleep early.

While Anna and Victor rested in their rooms, Ernest sat alone inside his bedroom with a candle burning on the small wooden table.

In front of him were several sheets of parchment.

Some were blank.

Some were already filled with numbers.

Others had rough sketches of buildings, tanks, wheels, shafts, and arrows showing how workers would move inside the facility.

The soap business was no longer a kitchen experiment.

If he wanted the Merchant Guild to approve it, then it had to look like a proper business.

A real business.

And that meant numbers.

Land size.

Capital cost.

Worker count.

Raw material supply.

Production output.

Expected selling price.

Operating expenses.

Projected profit.

Everything had to make sense.

Ernest dipped the quill into ink and wrote the title at the top of the first parchment.

Soap Manufacturing Workshop Proposal.

Then he paused.

"No," he muttered.

Workshop sounded too small.

He crossed it out and wrote again.

Helmarte Soap Works.

That sounded better.

More official.

More confident.

The first major decision was location.

It could not be inside the commoner district.

Soap production smelled bad when fat was boiled. If the factory stood near homes, people would complain immediately. Worse, the Merchant Guild might reject it for sanitation reasons.

It also could not be too far from the market.

Transporting finished soap by cart would add cost.

Then there was water.

Soap production needed plenty of water for lye extraction, washing, cooling, and cleaning containers. If workers had to carry water manually all day, labor cost would explode.

So the best location was obvious.

Near the river.

Not directly beside the clean drinking area, of course.

That would create problems.

The factory had to be downstream from the main water collection points, near the industrial edge of Helmarte where tanners, dyers, and mills already worked.

Ernest sketched a rectangular plot.

"Land area... about eight hundred square meters," he whispered.

That sounded reasonable for a starting factory.

Not too massive.

Not too small.

He divided it carefully.

Main production hall: 250 square meters.

Raw material storage: 120 square meters.

Drying and curing room: 150 square meters.

Finished product storage: 80 square meters.

Office and record room: 40 square meters.

Waterwheel and mechanical room: 60 square meters.

Open yard and cart loading space: 100 square meters.

Total: 800 square meters.

That was enough for a first-stage facility.

The most important part was the river side.

There, he drew the waterwheel.

Since there was no electricity, mechanical power had to come from moving water.

The river would turn a large wooden waterwheel. The wheel would rotate a horizontal shaft. That shaft could connect to belts, pulleys, and wooden gears.

From there, the power could drive simple machines.

A stirring paddle inside the soap kettle.

A fat grinder or crusher.

A simple ash sifter.

Maybe even a lifting hoist for heavy barrels.

It would not be modern machinery.

Far from it.

But even basic mechanical assistance would reduce manual labor massively.

Back in the forge, Ernest already saw how exhausting manual work became when everything depended on muscle.

Soap production would be the same if done poorly.

Workers stirring thick soap paste by hand for hours would slow production.

A waterwheel-powered mixer changed that.

Instead of four workers stirring one kettle manually, one worker could supervise a mechanically stirred kettle.

That alone improved productivity.

Ernest wrote the estimate carefully.

Waterwheel construction: 45,000 riels.

Wooden shafting and gear system: 30,000 riels.

Large iron soap kettles, three units: 90,000 riels.

Clay settling tanks and ash filtration barrels: 25,000 riels.

Wooden drying racks: 20,000 riels.

Soap molds: 15,000 riels.

Building construction: 180,000 riels.

Land lease advance and guild inspection fees: 70,000 riels.

Initial raw materials: 50,000 riels.

Labor setup and training reserve: 30,000 riels.

Miscellaneous: 45,000 riels.

Estimated starting capital: 600,000 riels.

Ernest leaned back slightly.

Six hundred thousand riels.

That was not small.

Victor earned around 9,000 riels per month, or about 300 riels per day if work remained consistent.

That meant the starting capital equaled more than sixty-six months of Victor’s wages.

More than five years of his father’s labor.

Ernest stared at the number for a moment.

"That’s heavy," he muttered.

But for Hollen?

Possible.

He owned a large forge.

He had merchant contracts.

He handled iron, coal, and skilled workers.

Six hundred thousand riels was serious money, but not impossible for him.

Besides, this was not spending.

It was investment.

There was a difference.

Then Ernest moved to production estimates.

If each large kettle produced 150 soap bars per batch, and they ran two batches per day, then one kettle produced 300 bars daily.

Three kettles meant 900 bars per day.

If they operated six days per week, that meant 5,400 bars weekly.

Around 21,600 bars monthly.

That number made Ernest smile.

Now it looked like a real business.

He wrote the selling price.

Common worker soap: 100 riels per bar.

Scented household soap: 150 riels per bar.

Premium merchant soap: 300 riels per bar.

He paused again.

Different market segments.

Good.

Workers needed affordable cleaning soap.

Households wanted better smell.

Merchants and nobles would pay for smoother, better-looking bars with stronger fragrance.

If they sold only common soap at 100 riels each, 21,600 bars meant 2,160,000 riels in monthly gross sales.

Of course, that was gross revenue.

Not profit.

Materials, wages, fuel, transport, guild tax, and spoilage had to be deducted.

He estimated monthly operating cost at 900,000 riels.

That included workers, fat, ash, herbs, firewood, packaging, cart transport, maintenance, and taxes.

Projected monthly profit: about 1,260,000 riels.

Ernest stared at the number.

Then he let out a slow breath.

That was enormous.

Even if his estimate was too optimistic and actual profit became half that amount, it was still far beyond ordinary trade.

No wonder soap could become an industry.

Next came workers.

He wrote carefully.

Initial workforce: 18 workers.

Production workers: 8.

Ash filtration workers: 3.

Drying and curing workers: 2.

Packaging workers: 3.

Cart and loading workers: 2.

Supervisor: 1.

Bookkeeper: 1.

Total: 20 workers including management.

He would manage operations.

Anna could help train workers on the basic process since she already helped refine the home batches.

That part made him pause.

His mother as production trainer.

A week ago, she was scolding him for making the kitchen smell like burned pig fat.

Now she might help launch the first soap factory in Helmarte.

Life was strange.

Then came the process flow.

Ernest wrote it like a proper operations plan.

One.

Animal fat arrives from butchers and slaughterhouses.

Two.

Fat is inspected, weighed, and stored.

Three.

Wood ash is filtered with water to produce lye solution.

Four.

Fat is heated in large kettles.

Five.

Lye solution is added gradually while waterwheel-powered paddles stir the mixture.

Six.

Fragrance herbs are added near the end of mixing.

Seven.

Soap paste is poured into wooden molds.

Eight.

Bars are cut, dried, cured, inspected, and packed.

Nine.

Finished goods are distributed to forge workers, market stalls, bathhouses, inns, and merchants.

Simple.

Clear.

Repeatable.

That was the most important word.

Repeatable.

A business could not depend on lucky batches.

Every bar had to look close to the last one.

If one bar cleaned well and another burned skin, the business would die quickly.

So quality control mattered.

He wrote another section.

Quality standards.

No harsh burning sensation on skin.

No rotten fat smell.

Soap must harden within proper curing time.

Each bar must be similar size and weight.

Bad batches must not be sold.

That last line was important.

Bad products destroyed trust.

Back on Earth, brands spent decades building consumer trust and could lose it in one scandal.

In this world, word of mouth mattered even more.

If one noblewoman complained that the soap damaged her skin, the Merchant Guild might use it against them.

Ernest rubbed his tired eyes.

The candle had already burned lower.

His back hurt from sitting too long.

Still, he continued.

This plan had to impress Hollen.

More than that, it had to impress the Merchant Guild.

Because without guild approval, the factory would never scale.

He looked down at the parchments again.

Area.

Capital.

Production.

Labor.

Pricing.

Profit.

Waterwheel machinery.

Supply chain.

Distribution.

Quality control.

It was not perfect yet.

But it was the beginning of something real.

A real soap factory.

Near the river.

Powered not by electricity, but by flowing water and smart mechanical design.

Ernest slowly smiled.

"In a world without electricity," he whispered, "water is the motor."

And with that, he dipped the quill again and continued writing deep into the night.