The Day After the Perfect Takeover
The morning after the perfect takeover contract, in the office inside the mountain stronghold’s main building. A fine layer of dust had settled like snow across the creaky old wooden desk. Rodin, the Mercenary King who had once commanded the entire continent, now found himself facing the greatest crisis of his life. Spread chaotically before him were the inventory list of spoils “harvested” from the assassins yesterday and the fertilizer estimate for next month’s cabbage fields.
“Hey, Dagan. Tell me again. If we sell ten pairs of boots at two silver coins each, what’s the total?” Rodin asked, pressing a hand to his temple. Numbers were writhing and dancing before his eyes like repulsive cabbage worms. The same brain circuits that had once carved a straight path through tens of thousands of enemy troops were now screaming in overload at mere arithmetic.
“Um… a pair of boots has two shoes, right? So twenty shoes total? That means… four silver coins?” Dagan answered confidently, twitching his nostrils.
Gil, who had been helping by counting on every available finger and toe, suddenly slapped his knee. “Boss, are you stupid? Leader! Just name a price and be done with it! Or how about trading one head of cabbage per pair of boots? Bartering’s the cleanest way!”
“We’d be the ones losing out if we trade for cabbages, you moron! Do you have any idea how much effort goes into growing a single head of cabbage?” Rodin slammed his fist on the desk. The ancient wood shrieked and threatened to split in half, forcing him to hurriedly rein in his strength.
“Ugh, my head hurts. Swinging a sword and cutting everything down is a thousand times easier than this. Why do these damn scraps of paper never end no matter how many times you slice them?”
“As expected, even the leader has the same ‘intelligence’ as us when it comes to numbers! You really are so human!”
“Who are you calling the same as you? Want me to plant the both of you in the field right now?”
Even Rodin’s bloodthirsty threat only made his subordinates giggle like idiots.
“And why are the fertilizer merchants’ calculations so complicated? What the hell is ‘interest’? You give them goods, they give you money. Why do more numbers keep popping up afterward? This is so bothersome I’m going to die… I wish someone would just clean up all this paper for me.”
The world’s strongest Mercenary King was suffering a crushing defeat before the colossal wall known as imperial arithmetic.
At the same moment, just outside the dusty office door, Veronica stood holding her breath. The pathetic conversation drifting through the wood was so ridiculous it brought tears to her eyes. She pressed a hand to her forehead.
The same “monster” who could crush house-sized boulders to powder with his fingers and turn the empire’s elite assassination squad into fertilizer with a single shovel was now groaning over multiplication-table-level math.
How in the world has he kept this enormous stronghold running?
Veronica’s eyes sharpened like blades. Simply by listening to the disastrous state of the ledgers, she instinctively understood that the stronghold’s administration was on the verge of total collapse. It was a miracle. The fact that they hadn’t been scammed into selling the entire mountain base was astonishing.
Wait. This is a heaven-sent opportunity.
She was the administrative genius who had secretly analyzed the empress’s household accounts to survive the empire’s lethal palace intrigues and uncovered weaknesses in the imperial treasury to create secret funds. She was hopeless at physical labor, but when it came to numbers, even the empire’s finest accountants would have to bow their heads before her.
That man hates anything bothersome more than death itself. In that case… what if I simply take all of his “bothersome” duties off his hands?
Veronica smoothed her disheveled hair, straightened the hem of her dress, and composed her dignity. What she needed now was not the pitiful fragility of a protected princess. She needed the confidence of someone who could prove an irreplaceable ability.
Being chased out and captured by assassins was far less safe than becoming the true power inside this bandit lair. Tens of thousands of times safer.
“Veronica, get a grip. Starting today, your occupation is no longer princess. You are the chief administrator of this stronghold. You’re going to put down roots here—deep ones.”
She smiled coolly and grasped the doorknob.
Knock, knock.
With a formal knock, Veronica opened the office door and stepped inside with absolute confidence. Rodin froze in the middle of preparing to hurl his pen, staring at her.
Veronica lightly ignored his bewildered gaze and approached the chaotic pile of ledgers on the desk.
“At that rate of calculation, you’ll never be able to afford the fertilizer, Mr. Rodin.”
Her hands moved like lightning. She snatched the pen before the ink could dry completely and began drawing bold lines across the messily scribbled numbers without hesitation.
“What? Princess, you’re still here? Why are you touching someone else’s ledgers?”
“This isn’t a ledger—it’s a pile of paper garbage. Shall I organize everything for you in exactly ten minutes?”
“Ten minutes? For this mess? Don’t lie. The three of us have been stuck on it for three hours and still couldn’t solve it.”
Instead of answering, Veronica let her pen fly. Scratch. Scratch-scritch—! As if performing magic, the scattered loot inventory was instantly sorted by category, and the fertilizer payment—complicated by compound interest—became crystal clear at a glance.
Rodin and his subordinates watched the scene in stunned silence.
“Here you are. Projected revenue and expenditures, plus a fertilizer supply plan for the next six months. I’ve marked the sections where the merchant tricked you with red lines.”
Rodin took the paper she offered. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“…Is this magic? How are the numbers so perfectly accurate? You didn’t cast some kind of summoning spell, did you?”
“This is my ability. If you allow me to stay here, I will manage these ragtag bandits with the same efficiency as the empire’s top trading company.”
Rodin’s ears visibly perked up. The temptation of being permanently freed from “bothersome paper work” was far stronger than any legendary divine blade.
“We don’t need a trading company… You’re really saying you can handle all of this? From now on, forever? And you won’t ask me about any numbers?”
“Of course. In exchange, please feed me, house me, and protect me perfectly. And if it’s not too much trouble, I would appreciate a full-length mirror in my room.”
“Deal! Ah, you’ll find a mirror if you dig through the warehouse. Take it yourself!”
Rodin smiled as brightly as an elementary schoolboy who had just finished a massive homework assignment and gripped Veronica’s hand tightly. It was a historic moment—the signing of the “claim-staking contract” that would change the fate of the entire continent.
When Rodin stepped out into the stronghold’s courtyard, his face looked as refreshed as if ten years of pent-up indigestion had finally been relieved. Behind him stood Veronica like a secretary, cradling a thick bundle of ledgers in her arms and radiating cold intellectual brilliance.
Rodin gathered the subordinates who were pretending to train but were actually slacking off in the yard.
“Hey, everyone pay attention! I’ve got a major announcement.”
At Rodin’s cheerful voice, Dagan and Gil came running at full speed.
“From now on, this princess will manage all the money, supplies—basically anything that involves numbers in our stronghold. I already gave permission, so don’t complain.”
“Huh? Sister-in-law… I mean, the princess? She’s going to manage even our emergency stash?” Dagan’s face turned deathly pale.
Rodin casually picked his nose and drove the point home. “That’s right. From now on, if it’s about numbers, go to the princess instead of me. If you bring any numbers to me, I’ll plant you in the field that same day.”
“Pleased to meet you all. Starting today, I am Veronica, the chief administrator who will monitor your wasteful spending habits under a microscope.”
The bandits felt an instinctive wave of terror at Veronica’s cool smile.
“Monitor? But our boss always just gave us stuff without worrying about the details…!”
“Have you never considered that because of that ‘without worrying about the details,’ the amount of meat you eat every evening has been reduced by twenty percent from the original portion? I’ve confirmed exactly how much the merchants have been skimming.”
“The meat amount was reduced?!” Dagan and Gil screamed at the same time. To them, meat was both faith and survival.
“Princess! No—Chief Administrator! If you recover our meat for us, we will swear our loyalty! Who dares skim our meat?!”
“See? You’re handling it just fine on your own. I’m off to check on the cabbages. Do your best.”
Rodin hummed a cheerful tune as he disappeared toward the fields. Veronica opened the ledger while looking at the remaining bandits.
“Now then, first… shall we calculate the feed and maintenance costs for the horses we acquired yesterday very strictly?”
It was the moment when the stronghold’s real power shifted from the farmer to the chief administrator.
That evening, after finishing the day’s work, Rodin was about to climb into bed when he heard suspicious noises coming from the room next door.
Crash! Thud! It was definitely the dusty storage room beside his.
Rodin opened his door with an annoyed expression and poked his head into the hallway. There he saw Veronica directing Dagan and Gil as they moved heavy wardrobes and furniture.
“Hey, princess. Why did you pick the room right next to mine? You’re going to spread dust everywhere… Go to the one at the far end.”
Veronica wiped the sweat from her forehead and stared straight at Rodin.
“Wouldn’t it be more convenient for the chief administrator to stay close to the leader in case urgent approvals are needed? If any problems arise with the books—even late at night—I must report them immediately.”
“Approvals? Just handle everything yourself. I won’t understand it even if I look. Just don’t disturb my sleep and stay quiet.”
“Oh dear, is my presence already burdensome? We haven’t even properly begun the ‘management’ yet.”
Veronica’s eyes sparkled mysteriously in the darkness. Rodin felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine, but his usual dullness let him brush it off.
“If you can’t say it properly… anyway, do whatever you want. Just don’t break through the wall to come in. I’m sensitive about that.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll enter confidently through the door like a proper lady.”
“…What?”
“It’s nothing. Sleep well, my ‘employer.’”
Veronica elegantly drew the curtain and closed the door. Rodin stood there blankly for a moment, scratched his head, and returned to his own room.
Lying sprawled across his bed, Rodin stared at the ceiling. Normally his mind would have been tormented by thoughts like “how many silver coins for ten pairs of boots,” but today he felt strangely at peace.
Yet beneath that comfort, an indefinable sense of crisis slowly crept upward like fog.
…She really did organize everything. Damn, she’s terrifyingly smart.
He pulled the blanket up higher.
But why does she keep trying to stick to the room right next to mine? So bothersome. Well, as long as she keeps the money from leaking and manages it well, it doesn’t matter. We’ll even be able to buy more premium cabbage seeds.
He closed his eyes, already thinking about the special nutrients he would give the cabbages tomorrow morning.
At the same time, in the next room, Veronica had lit a single candle. She gently ran her hand across the wall that connected to Rodin’s room. A smile far darker and colder than any she had worn while seizing victory in the imperial palace curved her lips.
“It’s a success. For now, I’ve successfully put down roots inside this safe fence.”
She lovingly stroked the ledger on the desk that bore Rodin’s name.
“Rodin… You have no idea. Once I get something in my hands—whether it’s power or a person—I never let it go.”
Veronica’s eyes flashed with manic possessiveness.
“You can spend your life planting the cabbages you love so much. This stronghold and your entire life—I will manage them both perfectly.”
Ssshh—
The cool night breeze blowing through the window made Rodin suddenly shiver. He yanked the blanket all the way over his head. His instinctive survival sense was screaming a danger warning, but the entire stronghold had already fallen into the grasp of the “Chief Administrator.”