The Price of Efficiency

One fact must be clarified here: the Solanium Basin is not, strictly speaking, a family estate. It was more like a secret slush fund my grandfather had hidden away. Therefore, it is distinct from the actual Solanium "territory." The name is merely a convenience. My family members have no idea this place even exists.

And it’s easy to see why. The village is, quite frankly, lacking in many things. It’s impoverished, and monsters frequently appear nearby. While we aren't exactly starving to death, there aren't any incredibly valuable local specialties either. The only income comes from processing and selling basic handicrafts. If this weren't a Healing Farming Game system, it would be a terrible piece of property. If my family had found out, they would have given me an earful.

"It seems the village is suffering from a food shortage," Miroa reported. She was the one who frequently went down to the village. It was a hungry time of year, to be sure. It was only spring; the food stockpiled over the winter had long since run out, and given the nature of this rural village, logistics were far from smooth. With a landslide added to the mix, they had no breathing room left.

"I managed to obtain a few chunks of hard, preserved bread, but it seems there is truly no other ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠food left," she added.

"Is it always this poor?" I asked. A basin usually implies fertile soil and good farming terrain. I assumed they could at least feed themselves. Poverty was understandable given the remote, mountainous location where trade didn't reach, but a full-blown food crisis seemed strange. Miroa answered as if she had been waiting for the question.

"The soil itself is fertile, but this region has long suffered from water shortages. They gave up on digging wells because the bedrock is too hard, and the installation of water pipes is a relatively recent development."

It seemed my grandfather, the previous lord, had done his best. He had installed the pipes and even driven out the monsters that plagued the area. "What about the lake where we fish? Couldn't we draw water from there?"

"The pumping technology is insufficient, and the surrounding terrain is too rugged for such a structure," she explained. Having fished there myself, I had to agree. It was literally a lake sitting all by itself, surrounded by mountains. So, they had been relying on the water source at the very peak of the mountain.

"Do they not collect rainwater?"

"They collect enough for drinking, but it’s not a sufficient volume for farming. Digging a reservoir would require too much manpower, and the stagnant water rots quickly, making it impossible to store for long."

"I see." So, while the natural environment was good, the human technology was lacking. These were problems that could have been solved easily with magic. In fact, the water pipes in the village had been installed by my grandfather, who was a Great Mage. If the world were functioning properly, someone would have jumped at the chance to turn this place into a major city long ago.

'But the characters in those romance fantasy novels would never do that.'

I mean, they don't even know how to use magic, right? It’s a bit disrespectful to my grandfather, but the so-called "Great Mages" are all the same. Powerful firepower. Flashy magical effects. A few useless spells for nobles to brag about. And to top it all off, they all act like sages for some reason. If you have those, you’re a Great Mage. 'If they had bothered to research useful magic, things would have been different.'

Just then, Miroa carefully gauged my reaction. "Master. Are you alright?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You seemed to be contemplating something serious just now."

"No, I was just thinking for a moment."

My mind had naturally drifted to my days at the Academy. There was an episode involving a princess who just happened to love magic; she would visit the Academy almost every week. And she’d go around poking her nose into our research, which was incredibly burdensome. Since she was royalty, I couldn't exactly tell her off. In military terms, it was like a division commander visiting the battalion every week.

"Wow! It's so fascinating! This is magic...!"

And yet, all she ever looked at were the flashy, showy spells. 'Hey, lady. Do you think magic is a joke?' It was a comment I had swallowed countless times because she was royalty. I also remembered that she particularly liked me because she thought I looked like a genius mage. Looking back, it felt more like I was being paraded around like a circus animal. Recalling that memory made me genuinely angry. Miroa seemed to notice that, too.

"Master. If I may be so bold, while the village's food shortage is certainly a serious problem..."

"Yeah?"

"That does not mean you have to starve yourself as well."

"No, I'm not starving. I'm just eating the hard, preserved bread."

Strictly speaking, it wasn't starvation. It had no taste, no nutrition, and it drained my energy just to eat it, but it was perfect for holding out. Perhaps it was the most efficient fuel for this period. Of course, I knew. From Miroa's perspective, it must have been infuriating.

Miroa’s sudden outburst, which I had been expecting, began. "Master, you cannot live on things like this! This bread is truly rock-hard! If you threw it, you could use it as an assassination weapon!"

Miroa could turn a perfectly normal loaf of bread into an assassination weapon if she wanted to. "And yet, and yet... you keep telling me to sell all the other food we’ve managed to gather at the shop!"

That was the second reason Miroa was so frustrated. Even though there was absolutely nothing to eat, I kept issuing the same order: Sell it all and run. Like a stock trader facing a market crash. Sell all the future food supplies in the market. I was selling every bit of food I collected to the village shop. It was only natural that the fish I’d put in the refrigerator today would meet the same fate.

Miroa couldn't hold back anymore. "I cannot allow this. The fish in the refrigerator, and we could even receive other food, oil, and seasonings from the villagers. Even if it’s just one meal, I will ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prepare a proper dinner ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with them."

"I told you not to squeeze such costs out of the villagers."

"But... then at least eat the fish you caught yourself...!"

"No. Send all the food to the shop."

"Why, for heaven's sake! Just eat something!"

Miroa clutched her chest in frustration. I understood how a maid might feel, but I was in a state of madness. "No. Give it to the shopkeeper." I was obsessed with efficiency. I had to earn as much money as possible to prepare for the future, so even what I ate felt like a waste. I could eat the rock-hard bread, so why eat anything else?

"What is the point of earning money in a rural village like this! External supplies don't come in, so there's nothing to buy anyway!"

That was also a rational point. In a rural village, physical goods were worth more than imperial currency. Turning food into money was a losing game. At least, that’s how it looked to everyone else. But.

"There will be things to buy later. That's why I'm saving up money in advance."

I was too lazy to think about it in complex terms. I just had to hold out as long as possible and squeeze out the ultimate efficiency. It was something I had done at the Academy, too. "And besides, I didn't eat much when I was researching anyway."

"That may be so, but wasn't the reason you came to this rural village to avoid doing that? I thought you would at least get some rest."

"Huh? I am resting."

"You’ve been working. Non-stop. Every single day, all day long."

I wasn't doing magic research, so I was having the time of my life every day. What was the problem? Wasn't this rest and healing? Was it something people who weren't mages just couldn't understand?

The next morning, the parsnips I had planted earlier had all grown. "Master! The crops have all grown!" Her voice was filled with expectation, but that wasn't going to happen. "Let's sell all of these, too."

"Ugh..." Miroa immediately looked dejected. But she couldn't refuse her master's orders. *Pop! Pop!*

The parsnips, cleanly pulled out with gardening magic, and the fish I had caught yesterday were neatly loaded onto the cart. "Then, I will be going, Master."

"Right. Thanks for your hard work."

I watched her pull the cart down to the village, then walked toward the warehouse behind the farm to check my status window. I wanted to see the money I had earned from selling the goods yesterday.

My daily income was 2,282 gold. It was about the same the day before. But gold coins didn't come pouring down in front of me. This was virtual currency! The money I received from the shopkeeper was separate, and that man didn't have much money. Even using common sense, a rural shopkeeper couldn't possibly handle the volume of a Healing Farming Game. Shouldn't a massive distribution network targeting the global market be involved?

The current world was a fusion of a romance fantasy and a Healing Farming Game. Once again, the system in front of me provided the answer.

'So that’s how it works.' As expected, virtual currency was a cheat. I should have invested in this in my previous life. I scrolled down the shop window and selected the product I wanted.

Spring farming is best done with potatoes. When I pressed the purchase button, the gold was deducted from my status window. The goods were delivered to the warehouse behind the farm.

I opened the warehouse door, and sure enough, sacks of seed potatoes were piled up. This was the Healing Farming Game. If I thought about the parts that were glossed over for the sake of genre fun, it was a terrifying world where you could conquer everything through farming. If that was the case, I couldn't afford to rest. I planned to roll in massive profits with the utmost efficiency.

* * *

Around that time, Miroa arrived at the village square with her cart. She intended to hand over the food and receive money as always, but a problem arose. "Miroa-nim, the thing is... the shop truly has no money left..." The woman behind the counter hung her head in distress. Her husband, the shopkeeper, said much the same. "We are truly grateful for the Lord's intentions, but we really don't have a single coin left."

They were people who bought goods from outside cities to sell in a rural village. Naturally, they wouldn't have much money. Miroa watched the two of them and fell into thought. 'Were they completely isolated by the landslide?'

The village currently had no supplies. The Master couldn't have been unaware of this fact. 'And yet, he ordered me to sell all the food.' Even when he didn't have enough to eat himself, he had ordered me to exchange the food he’d struggled to obtain for useless imperial currency. When I asked why, he said it was because he needed to save money. At first, I didn't understand. What could he possibly want to save money for in this rural village?

Then, the Master's final instruction came to mind. 'If they say they don't have money, just put it on credit and hand over the food.'

And looking at the villagers in front of her, hanging their heads in distress, something stirred in Miroa’s usually emotionless eyes. "Ah." A small gasp escaped her lips. Only upon arriving here did she finally understand. The Master didn't want the villagers' money. That was just an excuse. Miroa answered in her characteristic cool, calm voice.

"The Master said there is no need to pay immediately. Since there is nothing in this shop worth buying right now, there is no need to force yourselves to scrape together imperial currency."

"But, if that's the case..."

"He said it is fine to process the payment as credit in the ledger. Therefore." She put strength into her voice, conveying the Master's true intent. "Distribute the food to the villagers first."

Price didn't matter; he wanted the starving villagers fed first. And one fact had to be noted here: for a noble to give free charity to commoners was considered hypocritical or vulgar. Among commoners, there was a religious tradition that viewed receiving charity as a sign of laziness and a sin. However, trade was different. The Master had been considerate of the villagers. He had borrowed the form of a transaction so that the villagers' pride would not be wounded.

The shopkeeper and his wife realized the same thing. The couple, having grasped the Lord's true intentions, exchanged glances. "Ah..." Their eyes were filled with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠emotion for their new Lord.