The Determination

Clark made his way to the dining room, a modest yet well-kept space with a sturdy wooden table and matching chairs. The walls were decorated with simple tapestries, and a single candle flickered in the center of the table, giving the room a warm glow. He sat down, resting his arms on the table as he took a deep breath. The day had been overwhelming—waking up in a new body, learning about his past, and now, trying to navigate an unfamiliar world.

His stomach rumbled. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until now. The body he inherited had clearly been neglected, and it made sense that Mobirunerk insisted he eat first before doing anything else.

Minutes passed. Clark glanced toward the doorway leading to what he assumed was the kitchen. He tapped his fingers on the table, feeling a bit impatient but reminding himself that this was a different world. Things wouldn't run with the same efficiency as the modern world he once knew.

After about ten minutes, Mobirunerk finally emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming dish on a wooden tray. The smell hit Clark immediately—savory, rich, with a hint of spice that made his mouth water.

"Here we are, kyerk!" Mobirunerk said cheerfully, setting the dish down in front of Clark. "Spicy Slink, freshly roasted."

Clark looked down at the plate and blinked. It was a whole roasted chicken.

Or at least, it looked like a chicken. The crispy, golden-brown skin glistened under the dim candlelight, with juices pooling around it. The spices were rubbed into the surface, giving it a slightly reddish tint. It smelled incredible, but the name threw him off.

"This is Spicy Slink?" Clark asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, kyerk," Mobirunerk said with a nod. "A local favorite, and it's also your favorite."

"Is it?" Clark said, rubbing his hair. "Sorry, my mind is still hazy." 

"It's fine," Mobirunerk dismissed with a wave of the hand. "Now try it."

Clark hesitated for a moment but then picked up the knife and fork that had been laid out for him. He sliced into the bird, and the meat was tender, pulling apart easily. He took a bite.

The flavors exploded in his mouth. The meat was juicy, with a slightly gamey taste, but the spices balanced it perfectly. A slow heat built on his tongue, but it wasn't overwhelming—just enough to add a kick. The seasoning was different from anything he had in his past life, but it worked well.

"Wow," Clark muttered after swallowing. "This is actually really good."

Mobirunerk grinned, his tails flicking happily. "I am glad you think so, kyerk. You need proper meals if you are to regain your strength."

Clark took another bite, feeling his energy slowly returning. As he ate, his mind drifted to the future. He needed to understand this world's economy, technology, and resources before he could introduce any advancements. The clothing business was his starting point, but it wouldn't be his end goal.

"Mobirunerk," Clark said between bites. "How are we doing financially? I mean, do we have enough to keep the shop running comfortably?"

Mobirunerk tilted his head, his expression turning thoughtful. "We are stable, kyerk, but only just. Your parents built a strong reputation, and we have regular customers. However, in the past month, with no new designs or leadership, sales have declined. People need confidence in the shop. That is why your return to the business is crucial."

"Me crucial?" Clark paused his hands mid-air, and his gaze flickered to Mobirunerk. 

"Young master, you have been taught and tutored by your parents about everything in this industry, and you were passionate about it before the tragedy struck. The customers, the tailors, the suppliers—they all looked up to you. But with your sudden withdrawal, uncertainty spread, and we began losing ground to competitors, kyerk," Mobirunerk explained, his golden eyes filled with concern.

Clark swallowed another bite, carefully considering his words. From what he gathered, Cornelius—his past self—had been well-prepared to take over the business. That was good. It meant that even though the real Cornelius had shut himself away in grief, the foundation was still there. Clark wouldn't be starting from scratch.

"I see," Clark muttered. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. "That means the first thing I need to do is reestablish trust. If people see me back in charge, they'll feel more confident about the shop."

"Exactly, kyerk!" Mobirunerk said, nodding enthusiastically. "But it's not just about appearing in the store again. We need something fresh, something that will draw attention back to us. The fashion world moves quickly, and our competitors have been introducing new styles to attract customers."

Clark exhaled through his nose. This was a challenge, but nothing he wasn't used to. In his old world, he had worked on projects where innovation was the key to survival. He needed to bring something new to the market—something that would make people stop and take notice.

"Alright," he said, setting his fork down. "Tomorrow, I want a full assessment of our current stock, what materials we have, and a report on the competition. If they're rolling out new designs, I need to see what they look like."

"Understood, kyerk! I will gather everything you need," Mobirunerk said, his tails swishing excitedly.

Clark leaned forward. "And one more thing. Tell me about our tailors—who's still working for us, and what's their skill level?"

Mobirunerk's expression turned slightly serious. "We have three master tailors still employed. They are skilled, but their morale has been low. Without direction, they have only been making standard garments instead of innovating. We also have two apprentices, but they are still learning the craft."

"So we have talent, but no motivation," Clark mused. "That's another problem we need to fix."

"Indeed, kyerk. If you can inspire them as you once did, they will follow you without hesitation," Mobirunerk assured him.

Clark smirked slightly. Inspire, huh? That was something he could work on. If he was going to revolutionize this world, he'd start by building a team that believed in his vision.

He picked up his fork again, finishing the last bites of the Spicy Slink. His body felt more alive, the hunger that gnawed at him now satisfied. "Alright. We begin first thing in the morning."

Mobirunerk nodded with a proud smile. "Of course, young master. Tomorrow, the Drennan shop will take its first step toward reclaiming its place at the top."

Clark pushed his chair back and stood up. "And after that? We won't just reclaim it—we'll surpass it."