Up until now, I’d been coasting. My shop was the only building on this hill, visible enough from the main road that a simple wooden board was all I needed to catch a few eyes. I’d relied on that convenience—and the fact that Mary had been doing some heavy lifting with word-of-mouth—to ignore the lack of a proper brand.

  (I need a name. Now. ...Otherwise, I'll just be another "nameless gear" getting fired again.)

  Hilltop General Store? ...No, too generic. If I ever had to move, the name would become a lie.

  Doki-Doki Pottery? ...A dad joke from my previous life. I’ve never seen a business thrive on a joke name.

  Concrete Jungle Shop? ...Meaningless here. The meaning gets lost in translation.

  I trudged through the town, cursing my lack of imagination. The village at the foot of the hill was named Slowtown—a name as uninspired as they come. It was somewhere between a village and a town, yet they insisted on "Town."

  A Kobold officer offered a crisp salute; Brownies were busy repairing cracks in the cobblestones. A Goblin in a tailored suit hurried along, lugging a heavy briefcase. For a place called Slowtown, people here were surprisingly hardworking. ...Actually, seeing everyone with a "job" made my chest ache with a familiar sting.

  "Ah, hello, Kutani!"

  At the entrance of the local bakery, a mini-golem named Igora was selling bread. With his little chef’s hat, he actually looked the part.

  "Hey there. ...So, you're managing to keep your job, huh?"

  "Yes! I'm actually pretty good at baking!"

  "That’s great. Sounds like a calling! ...Wait, is that Brick Bread?" I pointed to the mountain of loaves beside him.

  "Yes, why?"

  "Did a girl come by this morning and buy fifty of them?"

  "Wait, do you mean Scorie? Was that for a shop?"

  "Yeah, that was her. I figured fifty loaves would be a dead giveaway for a wholesale buy, but..."

  "Oh, she usually buys around thirty for herself anyway," Igora said casually.

  ...Just how much does she eat? I, a man fired in a single day, had left my inventory to a girl who eats thirty loaves for breakfast... I had a bad feeling about this, but I decided to trust her. For now.

  "Understood! Though, the boss is actually my parent."

  "Ah... I see. Well, tell them the Brick Bread was delicious."

  Watching a family of golems working together warmed my chest in a way I didn't expect. I didn't want to leave the shop to a part-timer for too long, so I hurried back. But with my tendency to get lost, the sun was already dipping toward the horizon by the time I reached the hill.

  ***

  Last night.

  I was at the counter with no customers in sight, kneading clay. I had to shape this stuff into something sellable, but I didn't even know what "sellable" looked like.

  (...Alright, let's just go with something safe. A bread plate and a mug.)

  Strangely, it was only when I was silently kneading that my mind felt at peace. That was true before I was reincarnated, and it’s still true now.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  (Humans can only survive because of the earth. We cook what comes from the soil, we eat from vessels made of the soil—it's the very foundation of life. And here I am, kneading it... I guess in the end, I'm just a part of the earth myself.)

  By the time I snapped out of it, it was late into the night. The world was eerily silent, and the full moon hung there, breathtakingly clear.

  Wait... is it just me, or is the moon here a little... big?

  It wasn't like there were two of them or anything crazy like that, but compared to the one I used to see back in Tokyo, it felt just a bit oversized. It sat low in the sky, glowing with a soft, heavy light. And yet, it was strange. Ever since I arrived in this world, I felt this weird, magnetic pull toward it. It was like my very soul was being tugged by an invisible thread whenever that thing was up there.

  (I’m glad this world has a moon, though. Just being able to enjoy this quiet night is enough...)

  Not exactly the best mindset for a businessman, though. Recalling that scene, I pondered the shop's name as I finally crested the hill—returning to my sign-less sanctuary.

  ***

  "Welcome back, chief!"

  "Any customers?" I asked Scorie as I checked the back. Luldona was still asleep, safely tucked away in the house.

  "Pfft, everyone who passes by this edge of the village is practically a neighbor!"

  "Who exactly passes by here?"

  "Hmm, all sorts. People heading out for farm work or timber, folks going for a stroll, or travelers headed to the villages way deeper in the back."

  So the location wasn't bad after all. It was a natural waypoint for both locals and travelers.

  "The Brick Bread sets actually sold pretty well! Six sets!"

  "Wait, really?" I hadn't expected much, to be honest.

  "It was a total 'impulse buy' thing. Or maybe they just wanted to talk to the beautiful clerk at the counter?"

  She flashed a grin. I actually looked at her face for a second. I hadn't really paid attention before, but she had a straight, elegant nose and clear, sharp eyes that gave her a refreshing, energetic look.

  (She might have a point. There's a reason 'poster girls' exist.)

  "Whoa, chief! Don’t stare so hard! I was joking! Joking!"

  "No, you're right. Having a young, presentable clerk probably does help business."

  "Young and presentable...? Chief... you sound like an old geezer."

  "Do I? Whatever. Just keep an eye on the shop until Luldona wakes up. I’ll be in the back gathering clay and working on some pieces. Call me if anything happens."

  The problem of the shop name was still stuck in the back of my mind. Maybe I could think of something while my hands were busy with clay.

  "You're a real workaholic, aren't you? Leave it to me, chief! I'll sell every last Brick Bread!"

  She rolled up her sleeves and flexed a tiny bicep. Leaving the shop in her capable (?) hands, I headed to the back for my favorite part of the day: the clay work.

  ***

  "The name has to stand out..."

  I muttered to myself as I kneaded clay in my 'studio'—which was really just a dimly lit space near the back door.

  "Start with the customer. Who are they? How do you want to be remembered?"

  I recalled the words of a management guru I’d read once online.

  "I want the pottery to be the main attraction, but given the location, that's not realistic. I need to stock consumables for outdoor workers... and food."

  I decided to set my own interests aside for a moment.

  (First, I need people to remember this place. Luldona's a night owl, so we can stay open after dark, and the moon is so clear from this hill...)

  I imagined my shop under the moonlight, glowing like a beacon in the night. A smile tugged at my lips, like an artist lost in his craft. Just then, I felt a presence by the door and looked up, forcing my face back into a serious expression.

  "Did you think of a good name? You had a pretty silly look on your face."

  "Luldona!"

  (She saw that.)

  She was standing right behind me, apparently having overheard my rambling. I looked out the window; the western sky was stained a deep, burning crimson. It was her time to wake up.

  "I had one, but now I’m losing my confidence."

  "You should just decide on impulse," she said. "If you put too much thought into it, the name becomes a burden."

  "Then... how about 'LunaCrafty Trading Co.'? It fits this hill where the moon shines brightest."

  I took the plunge. It sat well on the tongue. After all, I plan to fill these shelves with my own handcrafted goods.

  "Not bad," Luldona said, tilting her head. "But what's a 'Trading Co.'?"

  "Oh, it's just... I've always liked the ring of it."

  "Doesn't it sound a bit like a wholesaler?"

  "Well, it's a temporary name for now..."

  I was too tired of overthinking to argue. Let’s just settle on that. Just then, a frantic voice screamed from the front of the shop.

  "CHIEEEEEF! HELP MEEEEEE!"