Chapter 161
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 161
Chapter Title: Predestined Catastrophe (1)
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“Quaaack-!”
A clear, beautiful sound echoed from the middle slopes of the Eastern Mountains at Capua Lake, resounding across the world. With the powerful quack alarm, morning broke in Frontera County.
“Mm...”
It was a refreshingly tangy morning for once.
He’d slept soundly for the first time in ages.
That was Lloyd’s first thought upon opening his eyes.
‘Why is it that on the days I decide to rest, my eyes pop open easier than usual?’
It was such a strange thing.
It had always been like this.
On days with school or work, even forcing his eyes open was a battle.
Yet, mysteriously, on mornings with nothing going on, his eyes would snap open on their own.
Today was no different.
‘Guess I don’t have anything pressing to grind away at for a while.’
Lloyd lay in bed, running through the territory’s affairs in his mind.
The apartment complex construction was going smoothly.
Especially after Building 103 was completed—it had really gained momentum.
Since all the buildings were identical, like copy-pasting, that helped a ton.
As the workers grew more skilled, construction sped up, and quality improved too.
‘So I can just leave it as is.’
The same went for the main sewer project.
The main sewer line, which would serve as the artery, and the sludge treatment plant were already done.
All that was left was installing sewage manholes in each village and apartment complex, then connecting them to the main line with sewer pipes.
‘That can be left to them too. I’ll just inspect.’
Long live Sir Bayern.
Long live the Engineering Corps, elves, and orc laborers.
A system that ran itself without his nagging.
How fortunate was it to have so many people he could trust with the work?
‘Though the territory’s funds aren’t exactly overflowing.’
A faint crease formed between Lloyd’s brows as he rolled around staring at the ceiling.
The territory’s funds.
They’d never been plentiful.
Too many places money poured into.
First off, the refugees numbered in the tens of thousands.
Just feeding and clothing them took massive resources.
And the reclamation in the Eastern Mountains had barely taken its first steps.
‘Sure, there’s the steady water tolls and funds from Viscount Racona’s territory, plus supplies and grants from the royals... but that doesn’t make us flush.’
He’d thought they were well-off at first.
But after one big project after another, not at all.
No, if anything, he needed to secure more stable funding sources.
‘The royal grants won’t last forever.’
They could get cut off anytime.
Even if the royals said otherwise.
Even if the queen had promised.
Not everything in the world goes according to promises.
‘Unexpected natural disasters, political upheavals, or even war could happen. That could strain the royals.’
In other words, there was always a chance the grants could be “unavoidably” severed.
Then what?
They’d be “forced” to starve and wither away.
He wanted to avoid that if possible.
If he could, he’d set up additional stable revenue streams.
‘...But I’ll worry about that starting tomorrow. Tomorrow.’
Today, he’d rest.
Really rest.
He’d handled all sorts of projects the past few months.
From the apartment complex to the Eastern Mountains retaining walls and the main sewers.
His body felt like it had been split into pieces from exhaustion.
That’s what Lloyd was thinking as he tossed and turned.
Right after the bed creaked.
Knock knock.
“Young Master Lloyd, will you be taking breakfast in your room?”
A knock at the bedroom door.
Followed by a maid’s voice.
Come to think of it, it was already breakfast time.
Lloyd propped up his upper body, quickly grabbing his shirt.
“Yeah, come in.”
The door opened, and a maid entered with a tray.
A familiar face among the maids—Emily.
“Did you sleep well, Young Master?”
“Yeah. Were you waiting out there with breakfast until I made noise tossing around?”
“Not really that long.”
Emily smiled brightly, as if it were nothing, neatly setting down sausage, a fried egg, salad, and steaming milk one by one.
“But Young Master? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got it good.”
“Hm? Me? Why?”
“Such a kind and gentle lady came all this way just to propose.”
“Oh, her?”
Lloyd chuckled.
He recalled the Countess of Cordona’s daughter he’d briefly seen yesterday.
She’d indeed been incredibly kind yet cool-headed.
That must’ve left a strong impression on Emily too.
“Well, what can you do. Neither she nor I are interested in this political marriage.”
He gave a wry smile.
But Emily tilted her head.
“Hm, I meant Lady Ferano, though?”
“Huh?”
“Oh, right.”
Clap. Emily clapped her hands.
As if she’d forgotten, she chattered on.
“Now that I think about it, you haven’t met her yet, have you? Lady Ferano.”
“...Wait. Lady Ferano? Who’s that?”
“She arrived early this morning.”
“Early morning?”
“Yes. Super early. Before sunrise.”
“Super early, before sunrise... so while I was sleeping?”
“Yes! I was on early water-fetching duty today, so I was up. That’s when I saw her. In a super luxurious carriage with twelve escort knights. And yet so kind and soft-spoken.”
“...Whoa whoa. Hold on. Hold on a sec.”
What was Emily saying right now?
Lloyd asked, flustered.
“You’re revving the engine without a signal, so I’m not keeping up. Just one question.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“So, you’re saying not just the Lady of Cordona, but another lady arrived here too? At the crack of dawn?”
“Yes, Young Master. She’s having breakfast with the Count right now.”
“...”
“Young Master?”
Lloyd shot up, his heart pounding like a drum.
This was insane.
He’d thought wrapping up with the Lady of Cordona yesterday had settled things. That he’d finally put this unwanted proposal nonsense to bed.
But apparently not.
This felt like a wildfire spreading out of control.
Unthinkingly, he started shoving his feet into his shoes.
“Uh, sorry Emily, gotta go.”
“Huh?”
“Something urgent came up. Or rather, something to handle. I’ll eat in the dining hall.”
“Um, then this food...”
“You eat it.”
“Huh?”
“Eat it for me. Don’t let on to others. Got it?”
“Uh, wait...”
“Don’t waste food. You’ll get punished. In hell, you’ll have to mix all the leftovers you ever wasted and eat them forever.”
“...”
Leaving Emily pale-faced, he bolted from the bedroom.
His steps quickened toward the dining hall.
♣
“Phew.”
The stormy morning passed.
No, correction.
Lunchtime arrived, leaving his mental reserves scraped clean to the bottom.
“...So, from then on, every time you met a lady for the first time, you bluntly and firmly refused without hesitation.”
“Yeah.”
This was near the front gate of the Frontera mansion.
Lloyd leaned back against the bench in the tree shade like a wet rag draped over the backrest, nodding.
“No point beating around the bush.”
“Was it to leave no room for hope?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded again at Haviel’s question.
Then, memories of the morning’s chaos flooded back.
“I go down to the dining hall, and there’s Lady Ferano, who arrived at dawn, greeting me with a big smile. But the vibe—whew.”
“What about the vibe?”
“Just nodding would’ve made her claim this place as her in-laws’ home on the spot.”
“So what’d you do?”
“Felt wrong, so I reflexively shut it down.”
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing special. Just told her I had no intention of marrying her, so rest up a few days and head home safe.”
“That’s awfully direct. She must’ve felt insulted.”
“That’s why she cursed me out with a smile.”
“What curses did you get?”
“Said she came with high hopes, but seeing me in person was a huge letdown.”
“Why?”
“Said I looked like either someone who’d taken weird drugs or skipped meds I desperately needed.”
“To me, it’s the latter.”
“...Don’t decide the answer on your own?”
“Anyway, so you handled the next two ladies the same way?”
“Yeah. Stated my refusal the moment I saw their faces. Doubled my curse points as a bonus.”
It was true.
After that, during the morning, Lady Esperia and Lady Sicily arrived one after another.
He hit them with the rejection line right as they stepped off their carriages.
Naturally, the insulted ladies piled on the curses thick.
It felt like a risky move, but he had no choice.
He’d started piecing together why this mess had happened.
‘Probably the Count wrote ambiguous replies.’
Not certain.
But it fit the situation best.
‘The day the proposal letters piled up and I told him to reject them, the Count looked super regretful.’
That regret and lingering attachment must’ve seeped into the replies. Making them vague, leaving huge openings for the other sides.
‘So the families who got those rejections still clung to hope. Like, rejected but maybe one more push gets some scraps? They saw that glimmer. So some big families sent their daughters in person. Betting on their prestige. To get a firm answer from me.’
The vaguer he was, the worse.
Even if rude, be crystal clear.
No take-backs, straight-up pumpkin resolve.
Cut it clean like with a knife.
That way it wouldn’t drag on.
They could give up early too.
Lloyd thought that was best for everyone.
“Anyway, my stomach’s stuffed. Skipped breakfast and lunch, but not hungry. All those curses filling me up?”
Lloyd burst into a hearty laugh.
Haviel smirked.
“If that’s the case, you should always be stuffed, Lord Lloyd.”
“Hm? Why?”
“Thanks to me.”
“What? You’ve been cursing me inside all this time?”
“Obviously.”
“Whoa. Not even denying it.”
“Honesty and sincerity are a knight’s virtues.”
“Can’t you fake it sometimes?”
“No.”
“So firm.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks my foot. Oh, there. Another one.”
Their warm, familiar banter was cut short.
Lloyd’s gaze shifted downhill.
A carriage climbing the gentle access road.
Not a cargo wagon.
Ornate decorations everywhere.
Pulled by four white horses.
The coachman’s clothes immaculate, flanked by eight mounted knights.
Noble at first glance.
And nobles visiting today?
Obvious.
“Phew. Fourth lady today.”
What curses would he rack up this time?
Maybe something about warm garbage breath. Or praise like he looked punchable for plastic surgery.
Feeling a weird anticipation(?), Lloyd stood from the bench.
Meanwhile, the carriage crested the hill.
Stopped at the front gate.
Eight knights lined up.
Coachman grasped the handle.
The ornate gold-trimmed door slowly opened.
Lloyd swallowed hard.
Loaded his rejection line firmly on his tongue, ready to fire.
He watched the lady emerging through the opening door.
And froze without realizing.
‘Huh?’
He needed to blast the rejection before greetings.
But he couldn’t.
Smitten?
Ideal type?
No.
She just looked familiar. Someone he knew from memory.
‘Iron-Blooded Knight. Those mid-chapter illustrations. Saws her there.’
Where was it?
Which scene?
Clack. The lady’s heel hit the ground below the door.
Memories clicked into place.
‘That woman wasn’t a villain.’
She was a good character.
A tragic one, though.
Sacrificed herself.
For many people.
Just for others.
Threw herself in willingly.
Thanks to her sacrifice, Haviel got his counterattack chance.
Broke the unbreakable barrier.
Saved countless lives.
Averted a catastrophe.
And that incident’s location was...
“Namaran County. Siluria Namaran.”
The murmur slipped out from the edge of memory.
The woman’s eyes widened, staring at him.
“Pardon? Do you know me?”
“...”
Lloyd stared piercingly instead of answering.
In the novel Iron-Blooded Knight, the city where countless citizens faced sacrifice as offerings to black mages.
Haviel, who first invented blasting to stop the disaster.
But even he couldn’t save her—she met a tragic end.
The ill-fated woman, Siluria Namaran, smiled brightly before his eyes.