If I Draw It, Big Trouble
The morning after the Esmael sisters left the Beauty Tower, everyone gathered in the basement level one staff lounge for breakfast.
Unlike the other Beauty Tower employees, Cache lived nearby in the Frederik Dungeon Zone, but with her ironclad frugality, she now ate all three meals at the hospital without fail.
"Director! Why didn't you tell us you'd been granted a barony?"
"What? Director, you've become a noble?"
"Congratulations, Director! I mean, Baron!"
Cache kicked things off, and Josephine and George chimed in with enthusiastic clinking of utensils.
As the Beauty Tower steadily gained its footing and fixed revenue stabilized, I'd switched the Jo family—who now handled hair design—to an appointment-only system. I also gave them alternating Sundays off, one at a time. Their loyalty to me had skyrocketed as a result.
"Enough. It's just a title. It's not like I have any knights or anything—"
"No knights? That wounds me, sir."
"……."
Walter's words left his massive shoulders slumping, and I was at a loss for reply.
"……I do have a knight, but that doesn't change much. Baronies are a dime a dozen around here—what good is it?"
The only change since receiving the title was the hellish taxes extracted under the guise of noblesse oblige. Aside from that shakedown, I'd gained nothing. No perks, no benefits...!
So there wasn't much point in flaunting the barony.
"What do you mean, no good? Baron, we should advertise it on the Beauty Tower sign: 'The talk of the town, Baron Miner Gold's magic tower!' It'll boost business! We're doing great already, but 'Treatments by a noble doctor! A noble face for nobles! Make nobles look the part!' Stuff like that—it's bound to work. And a barony isn't so lofty that freefolk will tiptoe around you."
"……."
I knew that full well. I'd just been hesitant because promoting on my title rather than my skills or products felt... embarrassing.
'Once Cache hears about it, no stopping her.'
Cache got a performance bonus based on sales of Beauty Tower products from the first-floor shelves, on top of her fixed salary. With her nose for money, she'd never let noble-title marketing slip by.
"Then shouldn't we throw a celebration for our Director—er, Baron—receiving his title?"
"No need. It's not worth celebrating."
"Nonsense! To mark the occasion, why not take a long trip? Ahaha!"
"Right! A trip sounds perfect!"
Walter's offhand remark had the Jo crew piling on with nonsense.
"A trip? Come on—"
"Yayyy! I wanna go on a trip! Let's all go together! Ravi too!"
"M-Me? But I'm a slave……."
"Miner doesn't care about that stuff! You're coming, Ravi!"
"R-Really? I'm looking forward to it."
"Me too! I wanna go!"
"……."
The Jo rabble-rousers got Res fired up, and suddenly the mood was set for a group outing.
'Hold on... It was my barony, so why a group trip? That means my money.'
Korea has an unwritten rule: the highest-ranking person—or the one with the fattest wallet—foots the bill. A sad truth.
"Enjoy your trip, Baron. Your faithful servant Josephine will stay behind and guard the Beauty Tower!"
"I'll guard it too!"
"I'll keep cleaning!"
"Me too!"
……Look at these guys. The Jo family synced up like they'd rehearsed, stirring the pot while making their escape crystal clear.
"Walter."
Shing—
"Eek!"
The Jo weeds needed occasional stomping. Otherwise, the Beauty Tower and surroundings would turn into a junkyard.
My words, paired with a chilling smile, shut George and Josephine up instantly. They still had a shred of street smarts, it seemed—no harsh punishment needed.
"Skip the celebration. Once Kellogg returns, we'll hold a team-building event: a combo welcome-back party and planning session for next year's business growth. Since we don't know when he'll be back, we'll wait until then."
"……Yes, sir."
"Got it!"
Some sounded glum; others, relieved to dodge the trip.
It had been nearly half a year since I arrived in this world. What started as just me and Cache had grown to over ten people.
The massive hospital was still understaffed, but I'd been thinking it was time for a workshop-style second-half business plan presentation.
'Not now, though. Winter's closing in—no carriages for hauling this crew. The hospital's the best "home" in the cold.'
"Oh, right! Director, no plans to head out today?"
"Not in this weather, aside from grabbing food and swinging by that damn Ling Office. Why?"
A few months back, after the fake tooth-pullers showed up, there'd been complaints about the proof flower I'd used on the central plaza stage damaging the aesthetics. Then came notice of finalized repair costs for the plaza roads—due today.
"I overheard some customers saying the Northern Duke's subjugation force is coming here to challenge the deepest dungeon levels."
"The Northern Duke... the ones near Monster Lands?"
Cache nodded vigorously at my question.
"Yep. They tour dungeons across the continent every few years, apparently. Looks like ours is next. Word is they'll arrive today or tomorrow, so watch out. They're known to be hot-blooded."
My knowledge of the Northern Duke from studying this world was slim: fiercely warlike, their influence dwarfed West and North Continents combined—even the emperor tread carefully.
'Basically Viking barbarians who ravaged 8th-11th century Europe.'
"They've got fiery tempers to match—supposedly bright red hair."
"Red hair? Is Rebecca from the North?"
"No, Northerners have even deeper red—like blood."
Rebecca dunked bread in her soup, answering flatly as if she'd heard it a million times.
"Anyway, be careful, Baron! Northerners pick fights and—without a word—slash like this! Shwick!"
"Eek! Scaryyy!"
Cache swung her soup spoon dramatically, sending Res and Ravi huddling and shivering.
Teasing kids seemed a universal pastime, Korea or isekai.
"Alright, plates clean? Let's kick off the week strong. Everyone up—greeting practice!"
"Hello! Welcome! Let me guide you!"
"Thanks for visiting! Hello!"
"Looking for a specific product?"
'Good. Discipline's tight.'
I led the discount-mart-style greetings, then headed out to catch the dungeon zone patrol carriage to the Ling Office. My smartwatch read -1°C—no way was I walking.
Screech—
Despite the chill, the Ling Office buzzed with people.
"Ugh, damn it. Can't they crank the heat? Freezing my ass off."
"Bro, house empty today? Got booze pickled from dungeon monsters. If the wife's out, wanna wet your whistle?"
Cache had mentioned crowds for year-end fines, but the crude faces and talk made me regret not bringing Walter.
'Nah, I'm not a kid. Just popping into the Ling Office—no need to drag him every time.'
I grabbed a number ticket from the dispenser, but a potbellied thug spat phlegm without shame, bantering filthily with his buddy.
Backlogged lines meant staff ignored the lowlifes.
"Hey, asshole! What're you asking for? Hubby's grinding dungeons half-dead, wife just bakes bread at home! Enough—hand it over."
"Tight grip, huh? Heh."
"Tch, when have I ever bullshitted? No need to check, just... Huh? What the—? Hey, black hair! Eyes for show? Watch where you're going, punk!"
Their "black hair" wasn't me. It was a tall, sturdy model-build guy with a cross necklace.
"……."
"What're you looking at, punk? Huh? Staring down? Want a leg slice? Dwarf-height special?"
"C'mon, bro, chill."
The curly long-haired thug eyed the approaching pair with amused silence, belly foremost.
"Let go! Who the hell do you think I am? Hey! Know Peter from Benjo Village?"
"Whoa, stop! You'll make the black-hair cry."
The "little bro" thug play-acted restraint, but big bro's ego overrode sense, shoving harder.
"Hey! You little shit! Skin all soft like a chick! You even a man? If so, say some—"
"You two—last warning on the noise, or you're out. Leave now."
Just before the thug's gut bumped the black-haired man, a fed-up Ling Office worker intervened, scowling.
"I said leave. Lucky you're catching us busy—normally, that's a fine."
"Tch, fine. Hey, black hair! I know that face now. Better run if you see me on the street!"
"Heh, too scared to speak. C'mon, bro—booze time!"
The thugs exited amid fuss, quieting the office.
"Hey, you okay?"
"……?"
I approached the black-haired man post-thugs. He held nothing—no ticket.
"You look like an out-of-towner. For counter consults, grab a number from the pillar dispenser down there."
"……."
He stared blankly, then smirked.
"Draw one for me. If I draw it, big trouble."
"……."
Hands for show? Another weirdo.