Chapter 201
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Translator: Prime Works
Chapter: 201
Chapter Title: Prison Called a Lullaby (1)
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“Bibiib-!”
A resounding alarm echoed from the lakeside of the Eastern Mountains.
With Bibbong’s cry, the morning in Frontera County began.
Lloyd’s eyes snapped open as well.
“Haha.”
The first thing he saw upon waking was his long-missed bedroom.
It wasn’t as lavish as the annex in the capital or the imperial guest palace in the Sultanate.
But it was cozy.
Familiar.
During the roughly six months he’d spent going to and from the Sultanate, he’d missed this room in the mansion so much.
“Young Master Lloyd? Are you awake?”
The moment he stirred, a cautious voice came from beyond the door.
That voice was familiar and welcome, too.
“Yeah, come in.”
The door slowly creaked open.
Maid Emily peeked her head through the gap and beamed.
“I brought breakfast.”
“Thanks. Did I keep you waiting long?”
“No. Just a little.”
“That’s bad. Sounds like I did.”
“No, really, just a tiny bit. It’s fine.”
Even the aroma of the breakfast she carried on the tray felt welcoming.
Bean soup that wouldn’t burden the stomach, shredded boiled chicken, whole wheat bread and two sausages, a perfectly half-boiled fried egg, a piece of goat milk cheese, and piping hot milk.
It was a modest breakfast, unbefitting a noble house.
Even so, Lloyd liked it best this way.
‘Compared to my goshiwon days, this is a buffet—a buffet.’
Overly extravagant breakfasts were politely declined here.
Too burdensome for the stomach, and the mood.
So this level was just right.
“Thanks. Dig in.”
“Yes, Young Master. I’ll come clear it when you’re done.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, right.”
Emily, who had set down the tray and was about to leave the bedroom, paused. She turned back. Beamed once more.
“I’m so glad you returned safely.”
“……Yeah.”
Emily slipped out of the bedroom with a light rustle before he could reply.
Lloyd stared at the bedroom door for a moment.
Was this what it felt like to be an insider?
This feeling of being welcomed by everyone.
Not bad.
No, honestly, it was good.
‘This is why I like it here.’
A smile came naturally.
Suddenly, he recalled his first time here.
Back then, everyone’s gazes had been so cold.
As if they’d spotted someone utterly beneath notice.
As if they’d bumped into another annoying troublemaker.
The awkwardness, the desire to avoid, the reluctance to get involved—it had all come through clearly.
He’d turned those gazes into warm welcomes.
Who had?
Himself.
‘I’ve worked hard all this time.’
The reason people’s attitudes had changed was simple.
He’d worked hard, put in the effort, and produced results to match.
So now, he wanted to leisurely suck the honey from the honeycomb his efforts had created.
‘I can do it.’
How many problems had he solved so far?
He’d paid off the territory’s debts and stopped the monster domino effect.
He’d taken in refugees and settled them.
He’d prevented the plague.
He’d secured ample funds and avoided war with the Sultanate.
‘I solved all that. Who? Me. So now, it’s playtime. Goodbye to the endless grind. I’ll live like a landlord, rolling around forever. As long as the Queen doesn’t summon me. I just need to rig the board so that doesn’t happen.’
Lloyd reaffirmed his newfound life goal(?) and picked up his fork.
He enjoyed the modest but delicious breakfast.
He savored Day 1 of honey-sucking life.
In the morning, he took a stroll.
He basked in the warm, moist early summer sun.
Along the way, he met some welcome faces.
Rebel forces from the Sultanate.
But now, they were exiles who had become residents of Frontera Territory.
It was Termes and the rebel officers.
“I’m glad you all arrived safely.”
They said they’d arrived about five days earlier than him.
Traveling with men, women, children, and families, they couldn’t move quickly, but thanks to Turtle Neck and the skeleton corps members’ protection and guidance, they’d safely crossed the desert and slipped across the border.
And so, Day 1 of honey-sucking life continued fulfillingly.
If the morning had been time for pleasant reunions,
Then the afternoon was time for even more delightful parcel pickup.
“What…… are all these?”
A little after lunch.
Dozens of wagons rolled into Frontera Territory.
They were loaded with massive crates.
The wheels looked like they might sink under the weight.
Frontera Count gaped at the sight.
That was when it happened.
“Lloyd Frontera? Are you here, by chance?”
The man leading the foremost wagon shouted loudly in front of the mansion.
At the call, Lloyd dashed out like the wind.
“Yes! Coming!”
When receiving parcels, speed was key.
With maximum heart-pounding excitement.
He signed the receipt.
Workers immediately began unloading the crates from the wagons.
“What in the world is all this?”
Frontera Count stammered as he watched.
A pleased smile curved Lloyd’s lips.
“Parcels—no, precious shipments.”
“Shipments?”
“Yes.”
Lloyd nodded.
The Count’s ears practically perked up.
“Porcelain, silk, carpets, spices, and what else was there. Anyway, all specialties from the Sultanate capital, Ahinsha.”
“……Ahinsha’s? Specialties?”
“Yes.”
“Who on earth sent all this?”
“Me.”
“Huh?”
“I sent them. Back when I was in Ahinsha.”
Lloyd’s smile deepened. He briefly explained to the Count how he’d thrown money around in Ahinsha.
“……So I hired merchant ships and commissioned the transport.”
“Through Creemo Port, straight here?”
“Yes. I’m really glad I did it that way. Picked a solid merchant fleet. I was worried about such a long distance—whether the goods would arrive intact and on time.”
“…….”
Lloyd smiled casually.
The Count was left speechless.
All those crates filled with eastern porcelain, silk, and other specialties.
“Then what am I supposed to do with this.”
The Count swallowed hard and pulled himself together.
Lloyd’s reply came as if prepared.
“Just find buyers. In the capital, Creemo, Namaran, and such. Of course, no need to sell it all at once.”
“That makes sense.”
The Count nodded.
It was an enormous quantity at a glance.
Could it all be sold at once?
The Count didn’t think so.
‘If there were buyers like that, great. But even major merchant guilds wouldn’t have the funds to splash out all at once.’
Plus, specialties—especially luxuries—had limited demand.
There was a fixed consumer base with the purchasing power.
So selling that much all at once was impossible.
“I get it. Leave it to me, son.”
“Yes, sell it off little by little—no need to push too hard.”
“Got it.”
The Count nodded and patted his shoulder.
Lloyd could feel the pride.
A smile came naturally.
That’s how Lloyd diligently received his parcels(?).
He called the skeleton corps and had them stack the specialty crates neatly in the warehouse.
By the time they finished, the day was done.
“Phew. Now it feels like living. Right?”
He asked as he stepped out of the warehouse, glancing back.
Haviel had stayed silently by his side all day.
But even after the question, Haviel gave no reply.
“What’s up? Something wrong?”
“…….”
It wasn’t nothing—Haviel’s expression wasn’t good.
If one word summed it up, it was the face of someone who’d stepped in dog poop right after buying expensive new sneakers, tag still on.
Lloyd’s gaze turned mischievous as he looked at him.
“Tsk. Something’s definitely up. Right?”
“…….”
“What is it? You got a problem with me again?”
“Yes.”
Finally, a response.
Lloyd’s lip curled up slyly.
“A problem with me, huh. What kind?”
“…….”
“Still clamming up? You’re really pissed…….”
“Was Lord Lloyd’s lullaby free?”
Under the sinking sunset.
Haviel tilted his prickly head to one side.
His prickly eyes gleamed toward Lloyd.
“I believed Lord Lloyd’s lullaby required significant compensation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That woman.”
“Scheherazade?”
“Yes.”
Haviel nodded.
His guppy eyes gleamed more intensely.
“You’ll remember the first day we arrived in Kandara. Right after you sang the lullaby to Miss Scheherazade for the first time, you said it. The lullaby isn’t free. She might not realize it now, but you’d collect a fitting price.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“But what is this?”
“What?”
“In the end, Lord Lloyd took no compensation from her.”
“Hmm, you think so?”
“Yes.”
As they walked side by side, Haviel’s prickly words continued.
“You’re not counting the easier rebel aid as payment for lulling her to sleep, are you?”
“Nope. Of course not.”
“Then what did you get?”
“That woman’s future.”
“……Pardon?”
Lloyd’s calm retort.
Haviel faltered.
By now, a meaningful smile played on Lloyd’s lips as he looked at him.
“I’ll say it again: my lullaby is expensive. I’ve got her future as collateral.”
“……What does that mean?”
Haviel cocked his head.
Taking Scheherazade’s future as collateral with a lullaby.
“You don’t mean she’ll devote her future because of the lullaby.”
“Eh, roughly.”
Lloyd nodded.
“Miss Scheherazade has incredible talent. You know that best, having clashed swords with her directly. Right?”
“Yes.”
“How strong did it feel, exactly?”
“Talent that would definitely reach Swordmaster within 20 years.”
“Right. That’s my take too.”
Lloyd grinned.
It was true.
Haviel’s assessment was spot on.
In the novel *Iron-Blooded Knight*, Scheherazade was introduced that way.
A genius comparable to Queen Alicia of Magentano.
A prospect guaranteed to become a Swordmaster within 20 years.
‘But she never bloomed that talent.’
The reason was simple.
She died first.
‘She fought to the end to protect the Sultan driven to rebellion. Right up to the last moment, hoping her father would acknowledge her. Even when retreat was possible, she overplayed her hand.’
She met a futile end.
Never blooming her brilliant talent.
But now?
The story had changed.
Thanks to the qanat he’d built.
‘The rebellion won’t happen now. The drought in Kandara Province is solved because of the qanat. The people’s discontent is quelled. So the Sultan won’t be besieged by rebels, and Scheherazade won’t die fighting to protect him.’
In other words, she’d survive.
Live stably and reach Swordmaster within 20 years.
“So there.”
Lloyd nailed it down.
“A Swordmaster-to-be within 20 years, in our potential enemy nation. The Sultan’s daughter, no less. Someday, she might turn her sword on our territory. You gonna leave that alone?”
“That’s…….”
“Of course not. We make a move.”
“How?”
“Claim that bud for myself—or if not, stunt its growth with some herbicide.”
Lloyd’s grin turned faintly wicked.
“Our relations with the Sultan are good now. But 10, 20 years from now? No guarantees. It’s a potential enemy nation in the end. That’s why I sang her lullabies every day in Kandara.”
“……To make it a habit.”
“Oh, caught on already?”
“Because I’ve been through it.”
“Correct. Spot on.”
Lloyd shrugged nonchalantly.
His explanation continued.
“She heard lullabies for over four months straight. Slept like a baby because of it. But now? They’re gone. She must be panicking. Can’t sleep soundly anymore.”
It was true.
Insomnia suddenly returning after months of perfect sleep.
She’d be writhing from the abrupt change.
“She’s probably thinking the days without lullabies were better. Because she tasted it—the comfort. She knows what true ease feels like now. Can’t go back. Not like before, toughing out sleep deprivation on grit and malice.”
“……You’ve stripped her of the killer instinct to break through Swordmaster syndrome herself.”
“Yep.”
Lloyd nodded firmly.
It was true.
Anything worked that way.
Even someone enduring discomfort just fine—once they taste ease, they change.
Get used to the remote, and you can’t watch TV without it.
Surviving fine with a fan, but try AC, and you’re hooked.
Same with stoves, cars, elevators, internet, smartphones.
‘Especially sleep, which hits the body directly.’
Scheherazade, plagued by Swordmaster syndrome, would be no different.
Tormented by brutal insomnia all day.
She’d borne it as normal before.
Training diligently, steadily climbing realms despite it.
Then suddenly, she tasted the lullaby.
Ultimate comfort.
“So she can’t go back. Won’t muster the same grit to advance. Sure, she might claw back that drive with unexpected reserves—but that’ll take serious time.”
“You mean it’ll greatly delay her Swordmaster timeline.”
“Yep. Unless she doesn’t come here.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yep.”
“……Lord Lloyd, you really.”
“Curse away.”
“…….”
Lloyd turned, lip curled casually.
Perhaps that was why.
Haviel unleashed on Lloyd the juiciest, longest-nursed curse he knew.