No, I Don't Want To.
"No, I don't want to." The simplest and most straightforward way to refuse. And a very active one at that.
If I simply lacked the ability to grant a request, the response would be something like "I can't" or "Unfortunately not." Why? Because those answers are far easier to give, and the other person accepts them without much fuss.
But "no, I don't want to" presupposes that I could fulfill the request if I chose to. And Ilka Pavola—prisoner in Utopia Block B, Room 304, and former prime minister of the allied forces—responded to Seolhwa's request to borrow thirty million gold with a flat "No."
"You don't want to?"
"Yes. You heard me right."
Was this more honesty than Seolhwa had expected? He'd anticipated an answer like "I don't have that kind of money," so his thoughts stalled for a moment.
Cynthia, beaming with her usual playful smile, handed over an envelope. Inside was a detailed dossier on Ilka Pavola—a face familiar even to Seolhwa.
Skipping the basics like age, origin, and career history, the pages were stamped with red seals everywhere, unmistakably classified documents from multiple agencies.
SUBJECT:Ilka Pavola
POST-KINGDOM FALL: Escaped and acquired supreme command of the Anti-Empire Allied Forces.
※ Current analysis suggests the escape may have been staged.
[Date]: Secured guarantees from key allied lords and made contact with Gold Mountain.
FOLLOW-UP: Eyewitness confirmation of acquiring gold in bullion and checks, then departing Gold Mountain. (See referenced page.)
AFTERMATH: Did not appear at designated rendezvous with Anti-Empire Allied Forces. Hypotheses (flight abroad, identity laundering, asylum request to mage tower, etc.) deemed low probability given the acquired gold volume.
LAST SIGHTING: Unconfirmed report near the Imperial Capital.
"A namesake... unlikely, right?"
"Oh dear, did I overlook that? How careless of me~."
Cynthia brushed it off with a laugh, as if he'd suggested something as absurd as flying through the sky.
If... if this Ilka Pavola in the report was the same man Seolhwa knew—the drinking buddy of Warden Jepeto, locked away in Block B, Room 304—then this was information that could give wings to Seolhwa's plans.
"But will he hand it over easily?"
"That's beyond my concern, so I haven't pondered it deeply. Hehe."
Even her infuriatingly coy response sounded like the sweet clink of rolling coins to Seolhwa right now.
It was money borrowed under joint signatures by countless kings and nobles. Only the borrowers and Gold Mountain knew the exact amounts and terms, but considering every single debtor had gone bankrupt afterward, there had to be enough to fund an army like Byeon Gyeongbaek's.
The question was how to extract it. Would Ilka, who had fled the world to hole up here, cough it up willingly?
"Even though you could kill me, here's a bit of advice..."
As Seolhwa pondered a knot with no apparent solution, salvation arrived. His ears perked up like a dog hearing a distant ray of light in the darkest moment.
"So you're saying... 'I could lend the money, but I won't'?"
"Well, the amount is rather absurd, isn't it? Not three thousand, but thirty million."
Ilka sipped his steaming black tea—freshly brewed, soft vapor rising—and turned his gaze to the local weekly paper.
"Time flies, doesn't it? It feels like just yesterday you arrived as deputy warden, and now the emperor's on his inspection tour."
"They say time is what we only realize after it's passed, no?"
"After it's passed..."
A flurry of emotions flickered across the face of the continent's unofficial richest man, vanishing in an instant—so quick it would be imperceptible without intense focus. But Seolhwa, eyes locked on Ilka's furrowed brow, had more than enough time to catch it.
"I'll hear you out."
"Pardon?"
Ilka's gaze remained fixed on the paper.
"Whether I can lend you thirty million gold is secondary... If I do, what can you offer me in return?"
"You're not curious how I found out?"
Ilka let out a booming laugh over his tea. "You've called me 'Prime Minister' since we first met, haven't you? And..."
"And?"
"Just seeing those documents covered in pigeon feathers tells me everything."
Seolhwa reflexively glanced down—like hearing "the gates are open"—but the paper was pristine, luxuriously smooth to the eye, not a speck in sight. Ilka smiled, as if confirmed.
"Touché."
"I didn't poker my way to prime minister."
The man before Seolhwa now was a titan of wealth, one who could pour money like water and still not empty his coffers before death. What to offer such a person for a loan? Collateral? Proposing valuables would earn only a scoff from a seasoned financier. What use were worldly goods to a man imprisoned?
Vice Warden of Utopia—or true warden, in reality—Seolhwa couldn't offer anything tangible right now. All he had was...
"I'll help rebuild your homeland."
"Help how?"
"I don't know your methods here, but you've been supporting independence forces for your old kingdom in various ways."
Ilka's eyes finally left the paper, turning to Seolhwa. A perfect start.
"Including military aid and support for forcibly displaced refugees."
"Cynthia must think highly of you, Deputy Warden..."
Seolhwa lifted his teacup lightly to his lips. The soft aroma enveloped his mouth exquisitely, as if paving the way for the sharp words to come.
"But you know better than I that such aid isn't a fundamental solution."
Ilka's hand trembled faintly as he raised his cup. Seolhwa pressed on swiftly, unwilling to lose momentum.
"Unless the Empire is at war with another nation or in chaos for other reasons, local rebellions stand no chance of independence."
Ilka's ever-smiling face, unchanged since Seolhwa's first visit to Utopia, grew parched.
"And the food and medical aid to refugees... well, who knows how much was siphoned off en route."
"...If you think that way, you'd have to handle everything yourself—and that's impossible."
"Doing nothing is just pouring water into a sieve. Though I suppose you have plenty to pour."
"Then what should I do? Hand it to those ragtag mobs I knew we'd lose to?"
Ilka slammed the paper shut, his voice sharpening.
"Oh! No. If you'd groveled before the Empire's cannons from the start, you'd be a puppet state, not erased from the map."
The first sigh: irredeemable regrets of youth.
"I sounded the alarm countless times. Reports from spies in neighboring lands warned of war preparations, but the response was always the same: 'Nothing to worry about.' Why? Because they don't bleed in wars!"
The second sigh: helplessness from afar now.
"Nobles don't kill nobles. Their 'noble' bloodlines ensure they suffer no loss even as kingdoms fall! But the common folk... they can't escape. Squeezed for reparations, torn from families overnight by victor-drawn borders—that's the people's fate!"
The final sigh: obsession with a future now aged.
Ilka poured it all out—a tangled mess. So long suppressed it was hard to fathom, leaving Seolhwa wondering if the relief was real or imagined.
"...I've said too much, Deputy Warden. Forgive an old man's grumbling; don't take offense."
Ilka glared fiercely at some middle distance, breathing raggedly—not truly at Seolhwa. Seolhwa, silent till now, spoke again.
"I'll... help rebuild your homeland, Lord Ilka."
"How? No force threatens the Empire now. As you said, no fundamental solution."
"If none exists, we'll make one."
Ilka stared, baffled. Seolhwa met his eyes with brimming confidence.
"In this world, nothing is impossible with money... I declare it: I'll shake the Empire with cash!"
The weather, quiet for a spell, clouded over again. But nothing changed immediately.
Manrmursk's snow, once started, showed no sign of stopping—but it didn't fall easily either. If heading out, best not delay.
"Me, really?"
"I ain't seeing that punk's face again before I die. And you're warden proxy... no, the real warden now. Suits you to go. Damn right."
Warden Jepeto of Utopia and Deputy Warden Seolhwa rode side by side. Their white-maned horses headed for Manrmursk Byeon Gyeongbaek's castle.
"You'll run into him at the emperor's inspection banquet anyway."
"That's then. Right now, no desire to see that hothead's mug. Got it?"
Seolhwa had business with Byeon Gyeongbaek anyway, but human nature hated going when told. As he pondered whether to like or dislike this, a fork appeared ahead.
"I'll head to Palatium first, where His Majesty is. You'll probably come with Gold... I mean, the Border Count. See you then."
Jepeto, loath even to glance that way, wheeled his horse without hesitation. Now only Seolhwa and Chief Clerk Helena remained at the fork.
"Won't you head straight to the chief clerk?"
"Someone who knows the Border Count's face should introduce you, Deputy Warden Seolhwa."
Fair enough. Seolhwa turned his horse lightly.
In the distance, a massive iron fortress loomed imposingly down at him—the frontline of the last war, now the border, and if things went well, a source of elite troops for Seolhwa. Manrmursk Castle came into view.
It was the tail end of spring.