The Art of Strategic Occupation
The main house of the Valderk manor, in the count’s study.
“This isn’t what you promised!”
Ellen’s sharp protest struck the heavy desk like a slap.
She was shaking with betrayal.
“You said you’d spare Hans. But now you’re going to lock him in that underground prison for the rest of his life? That’s... that’s no different from killing him!”
Count Valderk didn’t even look up from his paperwork as he replied, indifferent.
“The fact that I’ve allowed him to keep breathing is mercy enough. Do you not understand? For some commoner to learn the family’s secrets and still be alive is a miracle in itself.”
“Hans isn’t just some commoner! He was the one who elevated our family’s standing at this ball! Instead of rewarding someone that capable...”
“That is precisely why he was spared.”
The count lifted his head.
His gaze was sharper than a winter gale.
“When something has value, you don’t break it—you put it in a drawer. But Ellen, if you keep insisting that I let that boy out, I may have to reconsider my position.”
“......!”
“You want me to release him? Very well, I can do that. But he won’t be leaving alive. I’ll have his head chopped off and sent out for you. If that’s what you want, I can arrange it right now.”
There wasn’t a trace of jest in his voice.
Ellen drew in a sharp breath.
Her father was the kind of man who would do exactly what he said. A cold-blooded man who could brush aside even his own daughter’s tears if it meant protecting the family’s interests and its secrets.
“......No.”
Ellen clenched her fists and stepped back.
If she kept pressing him here, Hans might really die.
“I’ll take my leave.”
Biting her lip, Ellen left the study.
As she walked down the corridor, her eyes burned red.
Helplessness.
She was a Valderk daughter, and yet in truth she was nothing more than a doll with no power of her own.
It was miserable, knowing she had locked away her benefactor in a prison and couldn’t even pull him back out.
Clutching at the last straw, she headed for the inner quarters.
Maybe her mother, the Countess Valderk, could still persuade her father.
“Mother.”
The countess, who had been sipping tea with elegant poise, turned her head.
“Ellen? What’s that expression for? Was your dance with His Imperial Highness that overwhelming?”
She still seemed to be basking in the afterglow of the ball.
Ellen knelt and begged.
“Mother, please speak to Father for me. Couldn’t you let that seamstress in the basement... Hans... have a little more freedom? He’s incredibly talented. It would be such a waste to keep him locked up....”
Clink.
The teacup struck the saucer a little too hard.
The countess’s smile turned cold.
“Ellen. Are you still going on about that lowborn servant?”
“Mother, Hans isn’t a servant. He’s a tailor I hired.”
“Your father was right. If you see a weed sprouting, you cut it off before it grows. I’ve heard rumors that you’ve been far too attached to that boy lately. How dare some insignificant commoner make a noble lady lose her head?”
“That’s not what this is! I’m only trying to treasure his talent!”
“Silence!”
The countess snapped at her.
“His Imperial Highness took a remarkable interest in you at this ball. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If things go well, our family may produce an empress. And you have the audacity to be distracted by some servant boy? Mind your conduct.”
“......”
Ellen had nothing to say.
Her mother’s mind held nothing but the family’s glory and upward status.
An empress?
Ellen almost laughed.
Her dream wasn’t to become a man’s ornament and wander the imperial gardens at leisure.
I want to succeed Father.
To become the head of House Valderk.
To seize the economics of Rowen in both hands and command the empire’s logistics—the true power behind the scenes.
That was Ellen’s ambition.
And to achieve it, she needed someone dependable at her side.
Hans...
A boy with abilities far beyond the ordinary.
A genius who overturned the common sense of magic.
A jewel I found myself.
She couldn’t let someone like that rot away here.
But for now, there was nothing she could do.
Her father had even issued a direct order.
[Ellen is forbidden from entering the basement. Any violation will result in the immediate execution of the offender.]
To save Hans, she could no longer set foot underground herself.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
That evening, in Ellen’s room.
“Nen.”
“Yes, milady?”
Nen approached.
Staring out the window, Ellen spoke weakly.
“I can’t do anything for Hans... I’m so powerless.”
“It’s not your fault, milady. The count is simply too firm in his resolve.”
“Still, I can’t let him starve. You know how cold and miserable that underground prison is. Since I can’t go myself, I need you to look after him.”
“Don’t worry. Just give the word, and I’ll handle everything.”
“All right.”
Ellen nodded.
“Tell the kitchen to send him the finest food that leaves the main house—not prison rations. And get him fresh clothes and blankets, too.”
“If the count finds out...”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take responsibility. Even Father can’t object to this much.”
She said that much, then bit her lip.
“This is all I can do for Hans. So please take good care of him, Nen.”
“I’ll make sure the food and clothes are the very best, just as you ordered.”
Nen smiled faintly.
“And you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, milady. I’ll watch over him properly.”
Only then did some of the tension leave Ellen’s face.
“Thank you, Nen. I’m glad you’re here. Tell Hans I haven’t given up on him. I’ll find a way somehow, so he needs to hold on until then.”
“I will.”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The underground prison.
“Welcome, Nen.”
I stopped my practice and greeted her.
As always, she had a basket in her hands.
“There’s a lot today, isn’t there?”
When she lifted the cloth, steam rose in a fragrant cloud.
Fresh bread that had only just come out of the oven, thick slices of roasted meat, glossy sausages slick with fat, pickled vegetables in every color, and even a bottle of wine.
This wasn’t a prisoner’s meal. It was a noble banquet.
“It’s Lady Ellen’s special order. She told us to make sure, above all else, that the meals were never lacking.”
“I see. I’ll enjoy it.”
I tore into the bread first.
The crust was crisp, the inside soft and moist. Then I sliced the meat and put it in my mouth; the juices, perfectly soaked through, spread across my tongue.
“Mm.”
A groan escaped me before I could stop it.
Eating mattered.
If I ate well, I built strength. If I built strength, I could train longer.
Even if this cave was flooded with limitless mana, what good was it if my body couldn’t endure it?
“Nen, this is really delicious.”
I meant it.
Nen’s expression brightened a little.
“Really?”
“Especially this sausage. It’s got such a great bite to it.”
“I picked that one out myself. Good, right?”
“More than good. The juices are incredible.”
“Well, seeing you eat like that makes me happy.”
Nen shrugged with a grin.
“If there’s anything else you want to eat, just say so.”
“Just like today, tomorrow too, please.”
“Got it.”
Still smiling, Nen took out the rest of the supplies.
A thick padded comforter and a fluffy blanket, two sets of clothes to change into, and a dry towel.
Along with that came a sewing spool, a handful of needles, a small pair of scissors, and even a thimble.
“Lady Ellen prepared these herself, too.”
High-end tailoring tools.
Ellen knew I wouldn’t stop working even while I was locked up.
“How is Lady Ellen doing?”
Nen shook her head with a bitter expression.
“Bad news, I’m afraid. She can’t come anymore. The family head issued a ban on entering the basement.”
“I see.”
I washed down the food with a sip of wine and answered calmly.
That was only natural.
There was no way the count would tolerate his daughter fraternizing with some lowly prisoner.
Nen packed away the empty dishes into the basket.
In one corner, she left behind food for later between meals.
Several pieces of bread, some dried fruit.
The water jar was filled to the brim with clear water.
“Then I’ll be going. I’ll come again tomorrow, so tell me if you need anything then.”
With that, she disappeared into the dark.
Her footsteps faded away, and the cave returned to silence.
I rinsed my mouth with a sip of water.
Once my stomach was full, my mind cleared.
And then, suddenly, I remembered a problem I’d forgotten.
Ah... my stocks.
Amos Magic Tower and Blue Wagon Transport—my entire fortune was tied up in them.
Especially Blue Wagon Transport; by now, thanks to the logistics chaos caused by Bergen Shipping’s maritime blockade, it had probably soared to the heavens.
The problem was that I couldn’t sell it.
The underground vault of the Rowen Stock Exchange.
The key to opening it was my mana signature and my voice.
Unless I went there myself, placed my hand on the scrying orb, and spoke the password, nobody else could open the vault.
I’ll live by my own method.
A stupidly dramatic password popped into my head, and I let out a dry laugh.
As things stood, there was no way I could actually visit the exchange.
In effect, those stocks were frozen.
Forced long-term investment, huh.
Even if the price peaked and then crashed, I’d just have to sit there and suck my thumb.
Maybe tens of times my money would vanish before my eyes.
No—wait.
Not being able to sell might actually be a benefit.
With my hands tied, I’d be forced to hold on to them until the end.
If the price kept rising, it could turn into a windfall instead.
The problem is, I don’t know either way.
It was outside my control no matter how I looked at it.
There was no way to know until the day I could get out and check.
...Well, it can’t be helped.
The most important asset I had right now wasn’t money.
It was the mana flooding this cave.
Money could be earned again if I lost it, but I’d never buy this kind of miraculous training environment with a fortune, even if I offered one.
Stocks?
They could turn to scraps of paper for all I cared.
If I walked out of here with overwhelming power, I could make more money than I’d ever know what to do with.
“Forget it. The stocks don’t exist.”
I turned my gaze back into the cave.
I’ve eaten well. Time to train.
Then, with a sudden heaviness in my lower belly, I headed for one corner.
I needed to relieve myself.
There wasn’t anywhere else to do it, so I’d been using the most secluded spot in the cave, but now it suddenly irritated me.
This isn’t right.
I was the one who could tear apart and rewrite every magic formula in the world, and yet I’d left this unresolved.
Cleanliness helps me focus.
And focus was necessary for training.
It might seem trivial, but this wasn’t something I could just ignore.
There has to be a way.
I crouched there for a while, thinking.
Water was limited to the jar used for drinking.
I couldn’t waste precious water, so I’d have to solve this without it.
Dry it, break it down, bury it...
One formula after another linked together in my head.
2nd Tier Composite Formula: Purification + Stitching
From the magical circle of reflux that stored mana, I drew a channel like a waterway and built a new magic circle in one corner.
If I do it here, purification will erase the smell and the moisture will dry on the spot.
The remaining residue would be turned to powder, then seep through the cave floor’s cracks along the mana thread.
Just as a torn hole in cloth is sewn shut and returned to the original fabric, even the trace of the filth would be folded back into the cave itself.
All that would remain was the cool smell of earth.
Once I’d built it, it was brilliant.
“There’s no smell at all, and it’s spotless. This is probably better than most noble mansions.”
It was only possible because this place overflowed with mana.
And now I had to use that overflowing mana for the most important task of all.
Prepare for the worst.
Count Valderk intended to keep me here and make use of me.
But what if, someday, I stopped being useful?
He would turn this cave into my grave without a moment’s hesitation.
I’m not going to take that lying down.
This was strategic occupation: making it impossible for anyone to kill me or force me out.
Ordinary defensive magic circles won’t be enough.
This place was where the source of mana flowed.
I would use that power to refashion the cave itself into a vast magical fortress.
These aren’t things a 2nd Tier mage should be able to throw up so easily.
But I had limitless mana, and the brains to shred it into 2nd Tier formulas and reassemble it all again.
Whoosh—
Dark blue threads of mana burst from the tips of all ten fingers.
“Shall we get started?”
Swish-swish-swish!
The mana threads sliced through the air and drilled into the rock.
It wasn’t the sensation of boring through solid stone, but of slipping between the particles and stitching them together from within.
I etched a complex magic circle into the floor near the entrance.
To be precise, I sewed it deep into the floor itself.
[Backflow Swamp]
The instant an intruder stepped inside, the floor would turn into a swamp.
Mana drawn in by the trap would reverse its flow, paralyzing every mana circuit in the victim’s body.
Disabled in one step.
And on the ceiling—
[Invisible Guillotine]
Invisible blades of razor-sharp mana.
With so much as a twitch of my finger—
The intruder would become a heap of minced meat on the spot.
But that still isn’t enough.
What if an assassin threw a dagger from the shadows?
What if they aimed for me in my sleep?
I might lose my head before the trap ever activated.
The most important thing is protecting me.
I wove the mana into a fine, unseen barrier.
[Guardian Array]
Most of the time, it rested so thinly that it was impossible to even feel it existed.
But the moment anything bearing murderous intent crossed a certain distance, it would spring open automatically and throw it back.
A massive magic circle spanning the walls, floor, and ceiling of the cave.
Every part of the job was grueling.
Drilling through rock with mana needles, linking circuits, injecting mana—the process repeated itself over and over.
Even this was training, honing 2nd Tier magic to the extreme.
As I adjusted the mana concentration in every stitch and calculated the efficiency of each circuit, my mana core grew tougher and more refined.
By the time a month had passed—
“......Done.”
On the surface, it was still just a damp, dark underground prison.
But through ultra-precise sight, this place was an entirely different world.
Blue veins of mana wrapped around the cave as a whole, just like arteries.
A fortress that responded only to my will.
This place isn’t House Valderk’s territory anymore.
It was my land.
Hans’s domain.
Count Valderk would never dream of it.