Chapter 134
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: There's No Such Thing as a Free Lunch in This World (2)
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“E-Engineering Corps, you say?”
“Yes. You saw what kind of guys they are, right?”
“Of course…….”
He had seen them.
It was during the last aqueduct installation, wasn’t it?
The sight of them—soldiers seasoned to the bone in civil engineering work—had left an impression.
“But why would expanding the Engineering Corps require soldiers from my territory…….”
“Overcoming this disaster requires everyone’s participation, doesn’t it?”
“…….”
Lloyd’s calm voice.
The moment he heard it, words failed him.
Because he instantly grasped the implication behind those words.
“You mean…….”
“Yes, you’ve guessed it. And your guess is correct. Why else would Frontera County have been designated a special direct-controlled city? It’s Her Majesty the Queen’s grand plan to make it the central hub for reconstruction after this monster domino crisis, isn’t it?”
“…….”
“But if you’re unwilling to contribute to that reconstruction work, well, I’m looking forward to the first quarterly report coming up soon. I’ll make sure to inform Her Majesty in great detail about Viscount Racona’s opposition to the reconstruction.”
“W-Wait! That’s not what I meant…….”
“Then what?”
“Well…….”
“Will you provide soldiers or not?”
“…….”
Viscount Racona found himself speechless.
This wasn’t support in any real sense.
It was nothing more than a one-sided conscription.
Yet the other side held an ironclad justification.
‘The reconstruction is under Her Majesty’s direct orders. The Engineering Corps is the key force leading that effort. Refuse to provide troops for it? Express any reluctance?’
He’d end up thoroughly despised by the Queen and the royal family.
In the worst case, he could even be branded a traitor.
‘That guy would absolutely twist it that way. It’s entirely possible.’
Viscount Racona glared at Lloyd, his shoulders trembling.
Lloyd Frontera.
The man who harbored dozens of devils on his tongue.
That bastard would no doubt use his signature vicious wordplay to paint him as the scum of the earth and report it to the Queen.
Then he’d vanish into thin air like morning dew on the execution ground, with no way to defend himself.
Viscount Racona had no choice but to nod.
“Understood. So, what scale of troops do you have in mind for conscription into the Engineering Corps…….”
“Shall we leave that to your conscience and sincerity, Viscount?”
“…….”
Please, just spare me.
Just tell him outright how many to send.
Viscount Racona felt like bursting into tears.
And so Lloyd smiled brightly.
It’s always the most awkward answer when someone asks what you want to eat and you say “anything.”
Same principle here.
Leave it to your conscience and sincerity.
Decide on an appropriate scale.
Those vague words would burden the viscount with a dizzying weight.
And he drove an even bigger, more magnificent wedge into that burden.
“Decide the scale of Engineering Corps support yourselves. Submit a report by noon tomorrow.”
“A report…… by noon tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And in it, we write how many we’re sending…….”
“I said leave it to you, didn’t I? With conscience. With sincerity. Write a number that’s appropriate for our unchanging friendship. Please make sure I don’t end up saddened. Got it?”
“…….”
“Well then, shall we move on to the next item?”
Flip.
Lloyd briskly turned the pages of the documents.
His plan unfolded neatly.
Support for food and clothing for the refugees.
Material support like timber needed for various construction projects.
Plans to conscript all the skilled craftsmen residing in the viscountcy, and so on.
It was nominally a “support and conscription plan,” but in reality, a parade of one-sided demands tantamount to an “exploitation plan.”
But Viscount Racona had no means to resist.
He lacked both the justification and the capability.
All he could do was bow his head and nod in helpless resignation.
“……Understood.”
As expected.
It wasn’t about living kindly in the past.
It wasn’t about looking down on and mistreating a poorer neighboring lord.
Deep, bone-chilling regret seeped into Viscount Racona’s very marrow.
But that regret was, truly, far too late.
‘Of course. Once I’ve marked someone, I hammer their skull until the end—that’s my iron rule.’
People don’t change.
Especially those who’ve inflicted malicious harm on him?
The moment he showed weakness, they’d repeat the same nonsense without fail.
That was Lloyd’s belief.
No, his experience.
Back when he lived in a Korean gositel.
It was a bitter lesson learned there.
‘That guy next door studying for the civil service exam—still makes my blood boil thinking about him.’
It hadn’t been long since he started living in the gositel.
The guy next door was a real piece of work.
Preparing for the 9th-grade civil service exam, he claimed.
But every night, he’d blast music at full volume.
Not just cranking up the volume—it was a suitcase-sized woofer speaker.
The thumping bass vibrated through the walls and floor, turning his room into a surround sound nightmare. Hell, even the bed shook.
Earplugs from a stationery store couldn’t block that vibration.
Fed up, he complained to the gositel manager.
It didn’t help.
Quiet for just one day, then the woofer blared again the next.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Finally, he knocked on the neighbor’s door.
Confronted him face-to-face, formally.
And what happened?
Out of nowhere, a fist came flying.
‘That guy was a total psycho.’
The punch was so sudden he took it full on.
Stars exploded in his vision.
A black bruise bloomed around his eye.
The manager arrived just in time to prevent it from escalating into a full fight. But the injustice and absurdity burned.
He threatened to sue for assault.
And then?
‘The guy’s face drained of color and he started groveling to me.’
Did he finally realize his mistake?
He begged pathetically.
Said if he got fined, he couldn’t pay rent and would have to move out.
Asked to let it slide this once, like saving a man’s life.
Even knelt, tears streaming, clinging desperately.
‘So I softened up.’
Was he being too heartless?
Doubts suddenly welled up.
In the end, he forgave him.
And regretted it big time a month later.
The guy lay low for about a month, then started blasting the woofer again!
‘Ugh, still pisses me off.’
Lost in the memory, he felt his face heat up.
That rage-filled lesson was telling him now.
Viscount Racona.
That man was the same type as the gositel neighbor back then.
Forgive him easily, embrace him?
Show even a hint of weakness?
He’d strike the back of your head and sink his teeth into your vulnerabilities like he’d been waiting.
The weak prey on the strong, the strong on the weak.
The type who naturally tucks tail before the powerful.
But reveals an endlessly vicious nature the moment they sense weakness.
That kind of person.
‘So no forgiveness.’
When the opportunity arose like this, he’d squeeze and exploit every last drop.
He’d engrave it into their bones and soul that he was the superior one.
He tilted his head slightly and looked at Viscount Racona.
“By any chance, do today’s measures offend you?”
“N-No, not at all.”
“They don’t?”
“……Yes.”
“Good. You’re magnanimous, Viscount.”
“Th-Thank you. Then, if we’re done…….”
“Leaving already?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Hmm, how disappointing.”
“…….”
“Since you’re here, why not have Sir Kuruno over there spar with our Haviel? It’s been a while. Sharpen skills through comings and goings in combat. Forge friendship amid flying sweat droplets. Build camaraderie through such exchanges, right?”
Flinch!
Sir Kuruno, who had been silently accompanying the viscount, shuddered violently.
Lloyd’s lip curled slyly.
“Oh, did you bring him without a diaper? Sparring might be tricky then.”
“…….”
“Just kidding. Hahaha! You know it’s a joke, right? Between us?”
“Ah, hahaha…… Between us.”
Any funny business, and he’s dead.
No mercy whatsoever.
Viscount Racona felt it in his bones.
Lloyd Frontera, smiling so affably at him.
Because he realized there was no mirth in those eyes.
‘…….’
Gulp.
Eyes cold as ice, beyond merely chilling.
Viscount Racona forced a smile, face on the verge of tears.
Only after placating Lloyd’s mood for quite some time could he finally withdraw—gracefully(?).
“Phew.”
After sending Viscount Racona off, Lloyd finally broke into a satisfied smile.
‘Perfect. I’ve humbled him just right. And gotten plenty out of it.’
Tripled water rates.
Troops for the Engineering Corps.
Fabrics, timber, and other materials.
All resources that would prove immensely useful for running the refugee camp and growing the territory.
‘Time to get moving, then.’
Now it was time to execute the next plan.
He grabbed the box he’d left in one corner of the office.
Carrying it, he headed to the refugee camp with Haviel.
“Ah? Lord Lloyd?”
Soldiers preparing lunch rations spotted them.
They stopped what they were doing to greet him.
Lloyd waved them off.
“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t mind me, keep doing what you’re doing.”
“…….”
Naturally, the soldiers couldn’t ignore him.
No matter the workplace, when a higher-up visits the site, everyone gets busier and more frantic for no reason.
Ladles stirring soup leisurely now moved noticeably faster.
Hands carrying soup and bread bustled.
Even placing trays and spoons sped up.
Lloyd ended up giving a wry smile.
‘Feels a bit guilty now.’
The ration team soldiers bustling because of his arrival.
He fully empathized with their inner turmoil.
He’d been through such situations plenty.
‘Especially in the military. During holidays, when division commanders or politicians visited to “comfort the troops,” the whole base vibe was ruined.’
It was supposed to be a rest day.
Time to enjoy national holidays.
But when big shots like division commanders, corps commanders, or politicians dropped by?
Everyone scrambled to polish every facility spotless, backs breaking, shouting “We’re honored beyond words!”
Rest?
Holiday enjoyment?
Not even a dream.
‘So I won’t be a nuisance. Let’s wrap up the errand quick and leave.’
The soldiers, needlessly bustling.
He tucked away his apology to them.
Surveying the area to get to business.
Refugees queued up for rations filled the place.
He approached them.
Walked among them.
Just that sparked murmurs among the refugees.
“Hey, that guy over there? Isn’t that him?”
“Who?”
“Who else? Lord Lloyd. The lord’s son of this territory.”
“Ah! Him?”
Someone’s gaze, a gesture pointed him out. Confirmed.
Murmurs spread.
“It’s really him. Lord Lloyd. The real Lord Lloyd.”
“I heard he convinced the lord here to take us in.”
“Me too. He’s the one who made this refugee camp.”
“And this warm floor too…….”
Slowly, but surely.
The ration queue dissolved into a crowd.
The mass surged toward Lloyd.
Murmurs turned to cheers and voices of gratitude.
“It’s him, Lord Lloyd!”
“Thank you! My son survived because of you!”
“Same here! Our family’s staying warm thanks to you, Lord Lloyd! Thank you! We’re grateful!”
The commotion spread across the entire refugee camp.
Crowds from other ration lines rushed over.
Soon, thousands gathered to see Lloyd.
‘Incredible.’
Haviel, walking beside Lloyd, felt himself swept up despite himself.
He’d never witnessed a scene like this.
Thousands of people.
All flocking to see one man.
Expressing thanks, gratitude for the grace, vows to repay someday.
Some ran barefoot.
Others reddened their eyes.
One grasped Lloyd’s hand hotly with wrinkled palms.
Each time, Lloyd accepted their cheers with a benevolent smile and gaze.
Truly heartwarming.
An utterly moving sight.
That’s why.
‘Lord Lloyd’s got some scheme up his sleeve, doesn’t he?’
Haviel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Doubt flickered in his gaze.
Naturally.
The Lloyd he knew was never just purely benevolent like that.
‘Stingy. A real tightwad. Worse than a salt peddler.’
Fact.
He recoiled at even the slightest loss.
Lose a single coin, a button?
He’d grumble and grouse for days.
Unbelievable how cheap he could be.
‘Yet he welcomed thousands, tens of thousands of refugees willingly. Because of royal orders? Long-term vision to absorb them into the territory’s population? Sure, possible. But knowing Lord Lloyd’s personality…… there’s definitely more to it.’
Even with royal commands.
Even with mid-to-long-term gains.
He wasn’t the type to bear massive immediate losses and efforts for nothing.
If asked to name the one person in this world farthest from being a philanthropist?
He’d confidently point to Lloyd.
‘And now basking in refugees’ thanks and awe, just chuckling along? That shameless miser? No way.’
He knew that man’s stinginess and slyness best, having watched up close.
So that man.
He was definitely after something.
Thus thinking, Haviel’s eyes gleamed like a flounder’s.
And shortly after.
His prediction came true.
The box he’d brought from the office earlier.
It started when Lloyd pulled out a stack of documents from it.
“Yes, yes, thank you all for gathering on your own like this. So, everyone, pay attention. Could you take a look at these contracts?”
Rustle rustle.
Lloyd waved the contracts toward the refugees.
Before long, a smile bloomed on his lips—fresh and cheeky enough to slap Old Man Nolbu back and forth.