Deficit
"Haa..."
Every breath he exhaled formed a puff of white mist. In the Lord's Office of the Wintervalt Grand Duchy Castle in the north, sat Kailan Wintervalt, the ghost of the battlefield who guarded the northern continent, lord of Wintervalt, and the empire's Swordmaster.
Fire magic stones have gotten way too expensive lately. I can tough it out, but if this keeps up, the whole territory's gonna freeze to death.
He was a man with chiseled features like a sculpture, black hair reminiscent of the northern night sky, and icy blue eyes as cold as a frozen lake. Even just sitting there breathing, an chill charisma overflowed from him, making most knights avert their eyes and bow their heads. Right now, he was glaring intensely at the stack of papers before him, chin propped on his hand with a gravely serious expression.
His loyal aide and knight captain, Cedric, stood by the door, gazing at him with reverent awe.
Aah, to agonize so deeply for the north's well-being...
Cedric held his breath to avoid disturbing his lord. Meanwhile, Kailan—no, the soul of Lee Hyun-soo, the perennial mid-level manager of a Korean company's accounting and logistics division—felt like his heart was about to burst.
This is insane. How the hell is this month's deficit 30,000 gold?
One gold coin in imperial currency equated to roughly a million won in Korean money. In other words, the hole in this month's territory budget was a staggering 30 billion won.
Kailan suppressed the urge to scream internally and shred the financial statements in front of him to pieces.
Three months into possession. After collapsing from overwork, he'd woken up as the northern duke from his sister's favorite romance fantasy novel. At first, he'd been thrilled. Finally free from his shitty corporate slave life, reborn as a noble lord who could live lavishly off inherited wealth.
In the novel, the northern duke had money, power, and eventually hooked up with the beautiful heroine sent by the emperor, living happily ever after. At least, that's how it seemed to readers. But the 5,000-character chapters couldn't capture the harsh reality of the northern duke's life.
The north had nine months of winter a year. Farming? Good luck planting seeds in frozen ground—you'd just grow icicles. The duke title was just a fancy name; in truth, he was the CEO of a sole-provider security firm blocking monster waves on the empire's northern front lines.
Subsidies from the imperial family were a pittance, while maintaining 10,000 defense troops, relief food for territory residents, and repairs for the broken walls cost a fortune.
Romance? Bullshit. Up at 6 a.m. to smash monster heads, afternoons checking on frostbite casualties among residents, nights wrestling these deficit-ridden ledgers—no time to even think about women.
If I didn't have a Swordmaster's stamina, I'd have keeled over from overwork here too.
Kailan pressed his throbbing temples.
At this rate, the territory bankrupts in three years. Then the north falls, and the whole empire's done for.
His sole goal: Turn this damn territory profitable, automate the systems, and retire to a warm southern resort year-round.
Financial independence, let's go!
He was dipping his pen in red ink to slash an X over the "[Knight Division Winter Banquet Budget]" when—
"Your Grace! Emergency report!"
The firmly shut office door burst open as a messenger knight stumbled in, panting.
Kailan's eyebrow twitched.
Damn it, what now? Right before quitting time.
"What is it?"
He feigned a voice as indifferent and cold as possible. The messenger flinched at the Swordmaster's inherent chill and dropped to one knee.
"Red signal from the northwest 3rd Watchtower! Mixed orc and Dire Wolf legion. Roughly over a thousand strong—they'll hit the wall in two hours!"
Cedric's face hardened by the door.
"A thousand? Damn, a massive wave right as spring starts. Your Grace, I'll assemble the knights immediately!"
Cedric gripped his sword hilt resolutely. But Kailan thought otherwise. His eyes lit up like a kid's as he grinned.
Jackpot!
Wolf hides made great cold-weather gear. And orcs and Dire Wolves were monsters. Magic stones... in other words, ATMs walking right to him.
Roughly one gold per orc. 2.5 gold per Dire Wolf.
Vitality sparked in Kailan's icy blue eyes. It wasn't the duty of a northern guardian igniting his heart. It was the gleam of a sales team leader facing a fat client wallet wide open, after missing quarterly targets.
"Cedric."
"Yes, my lord! Just give the order. I'll stake my life to bring back those beasts' heads!"
"Good. Just the heads... only the heads."
"...Pardon?"
Cedric and the messenger both uttered dumb sounds. Kailan rose slowly from his seat. The overwhelming aura from his 190cm frame made the office air heavy.
He picked up the greatsword "Frost Fang" from the wall and said,
"Attacking the heart damages the magic stone. For Dire Wolves, we need to harvest the hides too, so be even more precise."
Even after that, the two knights still looked blank.
"The territory's in deep deficit right now! Every magic stone means food to fill residents' bellies and clothes to warm their bodies! Tell the knights: anyone who carelessly breaks a magic stone loses cigarettes and jerky from their monthly supplies."
"...!"
Only then did Cedric tremble and bow his head.
"I'll convey your lordship's warm intentions to the knights crystal clear!"
Kailan facepalmed internally.
These battle-obsessed idiots—will they really get it? Please preserve the merchandise. A-grade hides fetch three times the price of C-grade at auction.
Orders given regardless. Kailan glared at the ashen sky outside the window.
Right before quitting time. Shit.
Tonight meant forced overtime.
Snowy plains before the Northern Wall.
Rumble rumble rumble!
The ground shook as a black wave surged forward. Orcs mad with bloodlust roared, and starving Dire Wolves howled, tearing at the ears.
No mood for casual magic stone farming here.
"Kraaaah!"
"Humans! Kill! Humans! Eat!"
Hundreds of Wintervalt knights lined before the wall gripped their swords with grim faces. Even northern elites couldn't relax against those numbers.
Then, the massive iron gate at the wall's center creaked open, and one knight charged out. A man on a black warhorse, black cloak billowing—the Northern Duke, Kailan.
"His Grace leads personally!"
"Hold formation! Protect His Grace!"
The knights' morale soared sky-high. Their lord at the vanguard was the ultimate honor and stimulant for northern knights.
But Kailan at the front felt deeply annoyed. The wind was too biting. No colds since possession, but he still felt the cold. Finish quick and hit the warm hearth with some cocoa.
"800 orcs. 250 Dire Wolves. Overtime pay around 1,400 gold, give or take."
Kailan muttered, drawing Frost Fang. Blue light shimmered on the sharp blade as aura rippled.
His aura wasn't explosive or destructive like ordinary swordsmen's. It was compressed to the extreme, thin and precise like a surgical scalpel.
Kailan spurred his warhorse. It sprang forward, diving like lightning into the monster horde's center.
"Kruuung!"
The lead Dire Wolf lunged fangs bared. Kailan swung indifferently; the alpha wolf's head flew. Before blood sprayed, the blade's extreme chill flash-froze the cut.
Hide damage: 0%. Magic stone damage: 0%. Perfect resource harvest.
Slash! Slice!
Kailan didn't stop. His sword shallowly severed monster knees, crippling mobility; their legs froze, collapsing one by one.
Death-defying knights followed.
"His Grace set the table! No hide damage—sever necks only!"
"Lower the merch value, and our supplies get cut! Cut throats carefully!"
First time in northern history knights talked merchandise value. Like master, like men. The knights beheading monsters mirrored their lord sweating deficits.
The corporate blood-tears bowl struggle lasted over three hours.
Soon after.
The long battle—night shift—ended. Over a thousand intact orc and Dire Wolf corpses piled like mountains on the snowfield. Zero casualties.
A feat possible only with Swordmaster Kailan leading.
Kailan sheathed his spotless blade and took a deep breath.
"Cedric."
"Yes, my lord!"
Cedric approached, sweat-drenched, eyes sparkling.
"Summon every resident skilled in butchering and hide tanning. Bring out all magic stone-powered cutters. It'll be an all-nighter, so double night pay, plenty of fire magic stones and hot soup. Before other beasts smell the blood, warehouse everything by morning."
"M-my lord."
Cedric's voice choked. Not from exhaustion under Kailan's money-driven harshness.
To fight so fiercely yet worry only if residents go hungry... Your ocean-deep benevolence brings tears to this Cedric's eyes.
Quit the dramatics and prep the work already...
Too drained to reply, Kailan just nodded and turned his horse toward the castle.
To barely cover this month's shortfall, a month of this grind. No solution in sight.
Haa, sick of this shit. When can I end it and sip mojitos on a warm southern beach?
Next morning.
Kailan, usually sleepless over finances, finally slept like a baby.
People really need work to earn money.
Feeling great, he headed for a morning shower when—knock knock—the door opened.
"My lord..."
Cedric staggered in, eyes ringed black from all-night hide peeling, clutching a letter.
Sealed with gold wax double eagle—imperial missive.
"Emergency dispatch via teleport array from the capital at dawn."
Kailan ignored the bad omen and tore it open. His eyes widened scanning the content rapidly.
[...Thus, We commend the tireless efforts of Duke Wintervalt in safeguarding the empire's north, and bestow upon you in marriage Our cherished daughter, the empire's shining pearl, Eleanor von Waldemar. The princess shall arrive in the north early next month...]
"Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped Kailan. Cedric panicked.
"My lord? W-what is it? The imperial family refusing aid again?"
"No."
Kailan tossed the letter on the desk. The imperial family's ugly duckling, the heroine bastard-born and bullied, shipped to the monstrous northern duke for political marriage. The main story's start.
In the original, she cried nightly at first from northern cold and duke's gruffness, then discovered his warmth and fell in love.
"The emperor offers his fourth princess in marriage to me."
"W-what?! The fourth princess... the bastard who holes up in the academy library? To make a impure-blooded princess our noble north's lady? Imperial deceit! We'll send refusal at once...!"
"Hold on."
What was the heroine's spec again... Solar mana for sure...
A novel passage flashed in Kailan's mind.
[Eleanor, hiding from bullying half-siblings in the library, double-majored in imperial academy administration and finance, graduating top of her class.]
"Top graduate..."
Kailan's eyes sparkled like during the orc cull.
The princess born with solar mana, possessed by only one in ten thousand!
Solar. What a beautiful ring. With her, no need for fire magic stones in the office. Plus administration top grad? No imperial trash here.
"Cedric."
"Yes, my lord. Shall I dispatch a refusal courier?!"
"Are you mad!? Deep-clean the reception hall now, prepare the castle's warmest room as Her Highness's bedchamber!"
"Y-yes...? B-but..."
Kailan slammed the desk.
"Long live His Imperial Majesty! Prep to receive Her Highness at once! And so she can start work immediately on arrival, move all pending approvals and territory financials to her room!"
"Approvals to the bridal chamber...?"
Our territory finally had a finance minister.
No more overtime for me!