Welcome to Hell's Construction Site
Imperial Capital outskirts, the slums choked with the stench of rotten water and despair. On the rain-soaked, muddy ground, dozens of Chancellor’s Office soldiers in black armor stood in rigid formation. Behind them loomed wagons piled high with massive quantities of materials, and chests stuffed with the 50,000 gold snatched from Baron Gideon.
The slum dwellers, surrounded without warning, stared at me with eyes wide in terror. Their gazes brimmed with hunger, deep distrust, and the grim resignation of "He's finally here to kill us."
I stepped down from the carriage and ascended the makeshift platform I'd prepared in advance. My silk coat billowed as I glared down at the impoverished masses with haughty disdain.
"All of you, listen up."
My voice, amplified by a magic tool, echoed across the entire slum. The murmurs died away, leaving only silence.
"The relief funds that Her Highness the Princess allocated for you vermin? I, the Chancellor, seized every last coin."
"……!"
Despair washed over the slum dwellers' faces. The faint lifeline they'd clung to—the Princess's relief funds—had vanished into the maw of the vile Chancellor. Some of the elders collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down their cheeks.
"So where'd that money go? Right here, under my feet."
I kicked the chest brimming with gold coins. The metallic clink rang out, and gleaming gold spilled from the cracks, making everyone's eyes widen in unison.
"But don't get the wrong idea. I'm no philanthropist. Handouts aren't in my dictionary. I wouldn't waste a crumb on someone who doesn't sweat for it."
I crossed my arms and smirked.
"We're building a massive canal straight through the heart of this slum. Starting today, you're all laborers on this site. No exceptions for the elderly, women, or children."
"……A c-canal, you say?"
"You expect our starving bodies to do hard labor?!"
Outcries laced with resentment erupted here and there. Forcing pickaxes into the hands of people on the brink of starvation for compulsory labor? It was a cruelty no sane person could even conceive.
"If it's unfair, don't do it. Starve to death. Simple as that."
I tilted my chin up arrogantly.
"But those who pick up a pickaxe will get fair wages for honest work and meals every day. Slackers starve. Workers live. Choose: die here of hunger, or sweat like beasts and claw your way to survival."
I beckoned to Cassel.
"Cassel. Set up the construction status board and distribute the tools. We start 24-hour rotating shifts today and push forward non-stop."
"Understood, Your Excellency!"
The soldiers flung open the wooden crates. Instead of bread, out poured gleaming, rust-free pickaxes and shovels.
"Welcome to hell's construction site, you trash."
The news that Caleb had declared forced labor in the slums spread like wildfire, shaking the Imperial Palace and noble society within half a day.
"That mad bastard! Whipping starving commoners to dig a canal!"
"The bloodless, tearless scum's finally squeezing the people's lifeblood to feed his own greed!"
Society was abuzz, even the palace bureaucrats trembling at Caleb's brutality. Meanwhile, Marquis Valer and his corrupt nobles secretly cheered the news.
'Classic Caleb. Using "forced labor" as cover to inflate construction costs and launder money.'
They began turning a blind eye to his actions in full support.
While the world reviled me as the "butcher feeding on starving masses," I was holed up in the temporary overseer's office at the slum's center, poring over documents late into the night.
Scratch, scratch.
"Your Excellency. Day one's labor shift has ended."
Cassel entered with his report. Gone was the stern expression from earlier; now his face held a strange mix of confusion.
"Good. How many joined?"
"There was initial resistance, but hunger won out. Over 70% of the slum population volunteered and grabbed shovels."
"As expected. Pride and fear mean nothing on an empty stomach."
I nodded matter-of-factly. Cassel hesitated, then ventured the question he'd held back all day.
"Your Excellency…… You called it harsh labor earlier, but the meals are too good—coarse grain rice with meat soup? Labor's strictly limited to eight hours. And when injuries happened, you immediately assigned Chancellor’s Office physicians."
That was the real reason I'd shouldered the world's infamy to set this stage.
What if I'd just paraded in with 50,000 gold and handed out bread? Within three days, riots would erupt over scraps, and corrupt nobles and palace leeches would swoop in to skim it all.
Free handouts breed corruption and sloth. But if I don the stigma of "forced labor," lock the area down with troops, and give food and pay only to those who work?
'No one will care about this slum.'
Valer's faction thinks I'm squeezing the people for money laundering, so they'll stay hands-off. The Princess's inspectors will lurk at a distance, hunting for crimes to pin on me.
In that safe neglect, I was gifting the slums real jobs, meals, and self-reliance.
"Cassel. Free bread fills a day's hunger. Bread earned gripping a shovel gives the pride to face tomorrow."
I set down my pen and gazed out the window. Far off, slum dwellers dug orderly under torchlight. Their eyes, once filled with despair, now sparkled with vitality after hearty meat soup.
"I'm not giving them fish. I'm giving them the lake and the net."
Once this canal finished, it would link the river—the empire's commercial artery—to the Imperial Capital. The slums would transform from a forsaken dump into the empire's bustling logistics hub.
The people here would naturally thrive working its heart. In short, my retirement fund and the economic foundation to shatter the guillotine were taking shape.
I chuckled and sorted the documents.
"Call me devil or trash—it doesn't matter. Results will prove everything."
Three days later.
A shabby brown tunic reeking of grime. Disheveled hair, face and neck smeared with charcoal. Aris, stripped of her silver armor and disguised as a wretched commoner man, lay flat in the bushes near the slum checkpoint as dusk fell.
'Your Highness, just wait a little. I'll capture undeniable proof of that empire's tumor abusing the people.'
Aris's blue eyes blazed with fury toward Caleb. Tucked in her bosom was a "record magic tool" custom-made by palace mages—to film his whipping and overworking the masses, then use it to take his head at tomorrow's council.
"Next shift! Team 3, rotate in! Line up straight!"
A soldier's shout echoed from the checkpoint. Aris slipped from the bushes, blending seamlessly into the crowd of rotating slum laborers.
'I've crossed hell's threshold at last.'
She clenched her fists, bracing. Amid armed soldiers' watch, she'd expected agonized groans and whip cracks everywhere. Starved wretches collapsing in blood—she swallowed bitter tears imagining it.
But.
"……?"
Passing the checkpoint into the site, Aris froze at the scene before her.
"Whoa, old man Yoo! You were swinging that shovel today, huh? Scooping dirt by the handful!"
"Heh heh, kid! After a meal like that, gotta earn your keep!"
Hellish screams? Whip lashes? Nothing. Instead, massive torches lit the site like daylight, filled with lively work songs and booming laughter.
"Wh-what the……."
Aris whirled around in shock. Everywhere her eyes landed defied her expectations.
"Team 2! Helmets on properly?! Want your skull cracked by falling rocks?! His Excellency said injured workers get booted on the spot! Tie that gear tight if you wanna live!"
Captain Cassel bellowed with bloodshot eyes—not urging more labor, but enforcing "helmet use" and "accident prevention."
"Shift's up! Team 3, drop shovels and head to wash-up. Team 4, prep! Anyone working a minute extra gets docked pay for trying to game overtime! Rotate sharp!"
Soldiers even timed it themselves, yanking shovels forcibly. Aris's pupils quaked.
'What the hell…… Why are soldiers strictly limiting work hours? This isn't forced labor?'
Lost in confusion, a violently savory aroma assaulted her nose.
Bubble bubble bubble.
Aris whipped her head around. Ten massive cauldrons at the site's edge steamed invitingly. Not just anything—
Richly simmered beef soup and pork stew dripping with fat.