Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Obtaining the Farm (1)
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The paper the boy handed over was none other than that promissory note.
While other veteran workers would cash in their notes immediately and blow the money, this boy was different.
It was payment for sneaking into a merchant group's warehouse and stealing from them.
In a way, it was the first money he'd earned in exchange for his conscience.
The anxiety that using this note would mean crossing a river of no return had kept him from cashing it in. In the end, that last shred of conscience had saved him.
"Maybe you won't have to live in hiding or on the run anymore."
"Pardon?"
"There's such a thing as leniency for first-time offenders."
"Ah...! Th-thank you!"
At Dominic's words, the boy's lingering unease finally melted away, and he burst into tears.
They said the throat was like a grapevine in autumn—easy to swallow down.
To survive, he'd taken a job at a shady merchant group and stolen from them. Yesterday, he'd even gotten dragged into outright looting.
He hadn't joined willingly. His senior had half-forced him along, saying they needed an extra hand for the wagons, and that's how he'd ended up here.
He'd thought his only future was toiling in some sunless mine until death. But now, a new escape had opened up.
"I'll hold onto this note. And until everything's settled, you should stay in the village. The remnants of Rondo's crew won't be able to touch you here."
"Is that really okay?"
"Of course. But keep this in mind—even if it's your first offense, some folks will see you through colored glasses, and others will condemn you to the end. That's your burden to bear."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You seem sharp enough to get it."
No more lectures were needed.
From here on, the boy's future was his to carve out.
"So, what's your plan now?"
Ian asked.
"Grab everything we can get our hands on."
"What about revenge?"
"This is revenge—what else would it be?"
"Don't you want to make them kneel before you? Or at least ask why they targeted Evergreen of all places?"
"What's the point? It'll just be some lame excuse anyway. Do you think thugs like these pull off schemes with any grand plans? Nah, we—the Anton Merchant Group, the village, and me—just got under their skin. We looked like easy pickings once they scoped us out. So they went with the simple, violent option."
There was no anger in Dominic's voice.
'They're not even worth getting mad over.'
In a novel, they'd be the throwaway villains no reader would bother remembering.
Just that level of threat.
So, with the mess already made, he planned to pick the juiciest bits while cleaning it up.
"What do you think the Lord will do if we send him those thugs along with the witnesses and evidence? You've seen him up close—you know his temperament."
"If he didn't know, maybe he'd let it slide. But now that he does? No way."
"Hard labor, right?"
"Obviously. Might as well be a death sentence. They'll pay with their bodies till they drop."
"And their assets?"
"All confiscated. It's not like they earned it legitimately."
Dominic was quite satisfied with those answers.
"The confiscated assets will go to auction?"
"Some of them."
"I hope the farm's definitely on the list."
"The farm? Not the merchant group buildings?"
"What the village needs right now isn't downtown shops—it's land and manpower to grow crops."
"Why on earth would we need that?"
"Because rice prices are through the roof. And it's not just rice—peppers, garlic, green onions, perilla seeds, sesame... the prices are insane! Ugh, I've been dying to start farming the second I get some land."
Dominic shuddered dramatically.
Especially when he tried pickling kimchi—even his secret stash wasn't enough for some of those overpriced crops.
"Maybe it's because you always use such exotic ingredients."
"You ever think it's not me being picky—it's everyone else sticking to the same boring stuff?"
"...Pointlessly finicky taste buds."
Dominic's jaw dropped at Ian's blunt, unexpected criticism.
'What's his deal? Wait, is he joking? Or serious?'
Either way, it threw him off. But that rapier at Ian's waist was as intimidating as ever, so he swallowed his retort.
'Anyway, to properly launch the postpartum care center under construction from the start, I need a farm.'
To supply the ingredients he wanted, he needed land where he could grow whatever he pleased.
"Shouldn't we first worry if the farm even makes it to auction?"
Ian's words snapped him back.
Right, yeah.
To swallow up Rondo Merchant Group's farm, it had to hit the auction block first.
'Confiscating a criminal's assets and deciding what goes to auction... that's the Lord's call.'
Everything hinged on Count Sinclair.
To get a farm suited to his tastes on the auction list, he'd need to butter up the Lord.
"...Maybe I should write a letter?"
"Doubt that's the best approach. The Lord does favor you, but he's not likely to grant favors related to criminals just because you ask."
Still, as the village's investor, would he really brush off a legitimate need? Hard to say what went through a noble's mind, so unease started creeping in.
Like Ian said, these were criminals they'd handed over.
To busybodies, it might look like they'd framed them to snag Rondo's assets.
There was a reason they said not to adjust your hat in a cucumber patch.
'Screw this up, and the bear does the trick while someone else pockets the cash.'
Ian sighed deeply, watching Dominic chew his nails in anxiety.
"You always find these wild solutions for the tough stuff, but can't crack something this simple?"
"Then just give me a hint already. No riddles."
"You know someone who can definitely sway the Lord."
"Me?"
Dominic's face said, 'Who do I even know? You're the only noble I'm tight with.'
"You haven't seriously forgotten, have you? The Old Lord. The one who first acknowledged you and ordered me to guard you. The current Lord's father. If he steps in, no one would dare object."
"...Ah!"
Was that the sound of a lightbulb popping on? Or just his imagination?
"Right! That wise old... er, esteemed Old Lord! How could I forget? No way! I just didn't want to bother him during his secluded training with something trivial! But things have gone this far, so yeah, a letter it is. Oh man, when he finishes training and hears about this, he'll be upset I didn't tell him sooner. Can't have that—nope!"
"Tch. Can't even speak properly."
Ian regretted giving him the hint as he watched Dominic gleefully start drafting the letter.
The trial of Rondo Merchant Group's leader Rondo and his executives—dragged in like linked dried mackerel—wrapped up in no time.
"I'm innocent! It's all a frame-up! Your Honor!"
The goateed Rondo flailed with denials to the end, but the witnesses and evidence had overflowed.
The lesser offenders had ratted out every tiny misdeed of the executives and leader in a race to lighten their own sentences.
Godless scum.
"Even with guilt laid bare, you show no remorse. Clearly beyond redemption. Tsk tsk."
The Lord, seated front row, clucked his tongue. The judge gulped dryly without realizing it.
From the judge's perspective, it was a sweat-inducing ordeal.
'No room for mercy here.'
He wielded supreme power in the courtroom, but outside, he was just another retainer of House Sinclair.
That's why sentences tended to run heavier when the Lord attended in person. Hard not to notice.
"Rondo Merchant Group's leader Rondo, hear this."
"Your Honor!"
"With irrefutable evidence and witnesses for arson, assault, fraud, usury, human trafficking, extortion, robbery... how dare you beg forgiveness with that ironclad mask of yours!"
"I'm innocent! That was all my underlings acting on their own—I had no part in...!"
"Promissory notes issued in your name sit here plain as day, yet you lie to the end! Judgment: All Rondo Merchant Group assets are confiscated. Some will compensate victims. As the ringleader, Rondo is sentenced to lifelong hard labor without parole! Send him to Bailey Mine!"
"N-no! This can't be! Fuck! Where the hell are the guys I paid off?! Arghhh!"
At the verdict, goateed Rondo shrieked like a madman but was dragged out by soldiers.
"Really? Someone actually took money from that trash? Judge!"
"Yes, my lord! We'll hunt them to the roots!"
"Good."
Now satisfied, the Lord rose and clapped once.
The judge hurried down and handed him a document.
"Quite the haul of assets. Let's see—put these up for immediate auction. Easy to liquidate."
"Auction starts right away."
"Proceeds go to victims—no complaints allowed."
"Of course not."
It was a peculiar tradition in the imperial south, where House Sinclair held sway.
After trials, some confiscated criminal assets went to auction for those in attendance.
The proceeds aided victims, so nobles and wealthy folk often bid high to help out.
"Hope some good stuff shows up."
"Heard Rondo stashed plenty on the sly. Should be prime picks."
"Exactly why I sat through this bore."
Plenty had come to the trial hoping for auction deals.
"Please, please let there be a farm!"
Dominic was one of them.
"If there's no decent farm, I'm screwed. Nah, has to be there!"
That's why he'd begged the Old Lord—in seclusion—with three pages of flattery. Please include the farm he wanted.
"The auction list is posted. Those interested, check it and return here in three hours!"
A clerk bellowed the announcement after receiving the list. Some bolted to see the items.
Dominic was among them.
"Hold on, hold on! Just checking real quick—don't shove!"
He muscled his way to the notice without hesitation.
"...!"
Dominic rubbed his eyes.
Merchant buildings, Rondo's house, workers' mansion, carriages and horses, jewelry, art...
"There it is!"
Amid the densely listed items, Rondo Merchant Group's farms caught his eye.
'The one I want... this is it!'
Target locked.