After the Palmolive chaos finally settled down, I was able to get some real rest for the first time in weeks.

  First it was the insurance, then Palmolive, and finally the Trademark Law.

  These past few months had been the busiest stretch of time in both my past and current lives combined.

  “Strangely enough, I don't feel that tired,” I remarked.

  “I think I’m more exhausted than you are, Lucius,” mother replied, sitting down beside me and handing me a cup of wine.

  As always, the night sky of the Rome was serene and beautiful.

  A few torches flickered dimly, while the sky above was a canvas of countless shimmering stars.

  One of the perks of living in a Roman domus was the peristyle—the open-air courtyard.

  In the central hall, the atrium, you could enjoy the vast, unobstructed sky at your leisure.

  “You’ve accomplished so much in such a short window. I am truly proud of you.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without that list you gave me, mother.”

  I wasn’t just being modest.

  The list of clients and dependents my father had left behind was the key to squeezing the publicani.

  “Yet you didn’t use that list to pass the bill. You pushed the Trademark Law through entirely on your own merit.”

  “Pompey’s influence certainly helped.”

  “In Rome, nothing is ever achieved alone. Learning how to draw out the cooperation of others is the most vital skill of all.”

  I looked up at the sky in silence. She was right.

  This era of Roman politics was a minefield of alliances, betrayals, temptations, and threats.

  I had essentially gone through my rite of passage via this Trademark Law.

  Even tougher challenges likely awaited me, but I wasn't afraid.

  If anything, I was buzzing with anticipation. In my past life, my days were spent merely trying to survive, struggling just to keep from getting fired.

  Now? I was shaking the very foundations of Rome.

  I was willing to do anything to protect the new family I had gained.

  “I tried to help you from the shadows, but it seems your own strength was more than enough,” my mother added with a smile.

  Helping me from the shadows? I wondered what exactly she had been up to.

  “I wasn’t just sitting idle. I met with the other Roman matrons and asked them to lobby for the Trademark Law.”

  “I don’t recall any women holding public office in Rome.”

  “As I told you before, it isn't just the men who decide Rome’s politics. To use any sword effectively, you need a proper grip.”

  “And there’s no grip more powerful than you, mother.”

  That wasn’t a lie. My father, Caesar—notorious in the original history as a philanderer—was currently whipped by my mother.

  He truly, deeply loved her. Between the two of them and my younger sister, Julia, I had finally learned what a real family was.

  “Who says I am the grip?” Mother said, giving my shoulder a playful nudge.

  “I doubt you bought them off with simple coin. What kind of bait did you dangle before them?”

  “Nothing so crude. I promised them something far cheaper.” She leaned in close. “Palmolive.”

  “How did you sway the high-society ladies of Rome with mere Palmolive?”

  Then, the realization hit me. When Palmolive first became a sensation, the shortage was severe.

  Felix had mentioned that many noblewomen had practically laid siege to our house just to get an amphora.

  “I distributed a few amphoras back then and promised a steady supply for the future. It worked wonders, but it won’t last much longer.” Mother let out a sigh. “Now that the recipe is public, everyone will be making it. They won't do us favors just to get their hands on something common.”

  “That's true. However…”

  I fell into thought. Using Palmolive as leverage to secure the support of Rome’s noblewomen was an incredibly fresh idea.

  As a man, I had completely overlooked that angle. As she said, once everyone started production, Palmolive would lose its "special" status and become a mundane household item, like soap or shampoo in the 21st century.

  But that didn't mean there wasn't a way.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “What if I created a *new* Palmolive?”

  “A new Palmolive? Surely you haven’t dreamt up another recipe already?”

  “Not exactly.”

  I could make bar soap, but that was inefficient. Building an entirely new production line now would be too expensive.

  However, a slight modification to the existing product was a different story.

  “The Roman aristocracy and the equestrian class love expensive perfumes. It’s not just about the scent; it’s about displaying their status and wealth.”

  And there was one more thing Romans loved above all else.

  Roses.

  To the Romans, the rose was the queen of flowers. They used them as decorations for every banquet and festival.

  “What if we infused Palmolive with roses to give it a unique scent and color?”

  “But adding rose oil will drive up the production cost significantly,” Mother noted, tilting her head. “Didn't you say you wanted every Roman citizen to use Palmolive?”

  “The standard Palmolive will remain as is. We’ll simply create a separate, premium line.”

  A luxury Palmolive, crafted with no expense spared—including rare rose extracts.

  In reality, price isn't the primary concern for the wealthy when it comes to luxury goods.

  High-end sports cars, perfumes, wines, jewelry—they aren't just items; they are symbols of the user’s wealth and standing.

  “We’ll slap an exorbitant price tag on it. It will become a special Palmolive available only through the House of Caesar.”

  “And you’ll use that instead of the common Palmolive to secure the support of the noblewomen.” Mother burst into laughter. It seemed she had fully grasped my scheme. “Since you are the only one who got Vesta’s revelation, those ladies will scramble to get their hands on this new Palmolive.”

  “Rosa Palmolive. I think that has a nice ring to it.”

  “Then I shall prepare a separate banquet. Once we unveil the new Palmolive there and give them out as gifts, the rumors will spread in a heartbeat.”

  “This time, I’ll act as your 'grip', mother.”

  Mother truly was the daughter of Cinna.

  Cinna was the Consul of Rome who had sided with Marius and fought Sulla to the bitter end.

  My father had even refused Sulla’s order to divorce her, despite the threat of death.

  Their bond was that special. As Mother said, every sword needs a proper handle.

  “I’ll have to call Felix and have him make the arrangements.”

  “Let the poor boy rest once in a while, Lucius,” Mother teased, taking my hand. The two of us sat together in the shadows, gazing at the night sky. “It’s nice to just watch the stars like this sometimes.”

  ***

  In a room within the Caesar estate, Felix was deep in a dream.

  It was a memory from over a decade ago, shortly after he had been sold to the House of Caesar.

  “Felix!”

  “Yes, Young Master?”

  “Why are you just sitting there blankly? It’s almost time for lessons.”

  “*Your* lessons, Young Master. Not mine,” Felix replied in the dream.

  The House of Caesar wasn't a great house that held the world in their palms, but Felix had felt a sense of relief when he was sold here.

  At the very least, he didn't have to worry about being whipped for being slow.

  But this household was… strange.

  And the kid he was assigned to, Lucius Julius Caesar, was even stranger.

  Despite being only a few years apart, the young Caesar often displayed an insight that shocked grown men. The things he predicted always came true, to the point where everyone in the house eventually took it for granted.

  But there was something truly unique about him.

  “You’re my right-hand man. That means you need to be educated and sharp.”

  Few masters cared about a slave's education.

  Sure, if a slave knew basic letters or numbers, they might get an easier assignment, but no one went out of their way to pay for a proper tutor.

  But Lucius was different.

  “The Young Master wants to be tutored alongside a slave? Surely that’s a bit…”

  Even when the tutors expressed their discomfort, young Lucius never budged.

  Eventually, the head of the house, Caesar himself, stepped in and paid the extra fees for Felix’s education.

  Thanks to that, Felix received a proper schooling.

  Rhetoric, philosophy, history, mathematics, and even astronomy—subjects he never dreamed he would learn in his lifetime.

  “Young Master, why do you care so much about my education?”

  To that question, the young Caesar had replied with his usual grin.

  “Because you’re my right-hand man! Of course you have to be smart. What can I possibly get done with a bunch of fools?”

  A long time passed since then, and Felix began to wake up from the dream.

  After tossing and turning for a moment, he sat up.

  From borrowing money from Crassus to start the insurance business, to Palmolive, and now the Trademark Law.

  “Not long ago, I never dreamed things would turn out like this.”

  Felix rubbed his sleepy eyes, checking to make sure he wasn't still dreaming.

  The bright sunlight streaming in seemed to confirm that this was indeed reality.

  He stood up and walked to the table in the corner of his room. The mountain of papyrus scrolls was enough to make him sigh just by looking at it.

  “This much work to process in a single day? I should have run when I had the chance.”

  His young master dumped a staggering workload on him, but conversely, it was proof of how much he was trusted.

  With the bonuses he had received so far, Felix could easily buy his own freedom.

  He could achieve the dream of every Roman slave: becoming a freedman.

  Once free, his children would enjoy full Roman citizenship.

  If he became a free man, how would the young Caesar treat him? He thought to himself.

  “Probably the exact same way he does now,” Felix muttered with a smile. The young Caesar was nothing if not consistent.

  Just as he was about to leave the room, a man burst inside.

  “Felix! Glad you’re awake. I have a few favors to ask.”

  “If it’s about the banquet, I heard from the Mistress. You’re planning to unveil the new Palmolive there?”

  “Ah, that too. But there’s something even more important,” Lucius Caesar replied with a wide grin. “I’m planning to use our new capital to expand the Academy.”

  “The Academy?” Felix asked.

  The Academy referred to the weekly lessons the young Caesar held.

  It was where he introduced new numbers and various concepts he had invented.

  Many employees, including Vitruvius and Babu, attended these sessions with passion.

  However, for Felix, who had to prepare the materials and schedule the sessions, it was practically a form of torture.

  “Expand it? To what extent?”

  “Well, to put it specifically…”

  After Lucius finished explaining, Felix just stared at him.

  “Are you serious?”

  Felix froze, torn between anger and confusion. In the end, he couldn’t help laughing. His young master had always been like this.

  “Why on earth did you come up with such a preposterous idea this time?”

  “Because we’re going to need more engineers and architects for what we’re building next.” Lucius replied, his voice as bright and confident as ever.

  “We can’t keep relying on a single genius like Vitruvius.”

  He added, “Let’s create the people who will change Rome.”

  I’ll pick the winner today afternoon and announce it in tomorrow’s chapter.

  I heard a new Biohazard game just came out, so I’m planning to check it out, hahaha. (I also heard it’s called Resident Evil in some countries.)

  Have a great day, everyone!