Performance Art
Work had gone completely insane.
By which I meant: I was drowning in a mind-numbing amount of it.
"What the hell even is this 'Emerging Artist Support Project' supposed to be?"
Weren't we just supposed to throw some living expenses at a few artists and call it a day?
Exhibition space, auction house and professional curator connections, emerging artist networking events—
What even was all this? The only art I knew was painting pictures with a brush.
"Haaah……."
And to make matters worse, the "Emerging Artist Support Project" didn't even stop at painters. Sculptors, writers, playwrights, actors, directors—anything that could vaguely be stuffed into the category of "art" was included. Which meant there was a disgusting amount of things I now had to learn.
"Merchant Lord! We've received a request for art supply sponsorship—what should we do?"
"Merchant Lord! They're looking for sculptures to display in the park……."
"Merchant Lord! A theater company wants to put on an experimental play……."
"Merchant Lord! Everyone else was calling for you, so I just figured I'd call too."
"The bastard who 'just figured he'd call'—step forward."
Denma Lothringen, that absolute lunatic.
Dumping this nightmare of a project on his little brother?
I trusted my older brother……!
As expected, there wasn't a single person left in this world you could trust……!
Gyaaaaaaah……!
I refuse! I'm not doing it! It's too much of a hassle! I'm quitting everything! I'm going on strike! I'm reporting this to the Labor Office!
"You're here to file a labor dispute report, you say?"
"Yes."
So I actually went and filed one.
Dare dump a business on me? Watch what I'm capable of……!
"Your position and the grounds for the dispute?"
"Position: Merchant Lord. Grounds: I don't want to work."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes."
"Ah, right. In that case, write the reason as 'reduction of working hours and guarantee of break time,' and……."
"Wait, this actually works?"
"No reason it shouldn't, right?"
"Aha."
Wow. The Imperial Labor Office was genuinely chill about this.
So this was what they meant by an iron rice bowl.
"And the form of the dispute? Strike, slowdown, facility inspection……."
"Uh, a strike for now."
"Understood. A strike. Then for the scale and duration……."
Somehow, I ended up actually going on strike. I never expected the process to go this smoothly.
Perfect.
Now I could show Father and my brothers my will in no uncertain terms. No more misunderstandings or delusions would be possible after this.
I don't want to work!
I don't want to be Merchant Lord!
I just want to loaf around and eat free food!
Please let me be reborn as a resting youth in my next life!
Ahh. So this is what they call a strike.
Ah. Right.
Honestly, I hadn't expected much anyway. That was just how my fate worked.
No—but this was genuinely too much of a reverse-carry, wasn't it?
What the hell was "performance art"? And what was "destruction of formality" supposed to mean?
Had everyone lost their minds?
"Merchant Lord! Proposals are pouring in from galleries, theaters, and established artists who want to join the Emerging Artist Support Project! They say they were sincerely moved by your radical act!"
"Word has also reached underprivileged artists who had been languishing in obscurity. After hearing your story, many of them have begun applying for support. Thanks to that, we should be able to draw in emerging artists who fall outside the traditional academy system."
Hmm. I understood none of that.
What I did understand was that my workload had just exploded.
"U-uh. Otto——."
"Denma! Help!"
"Hm?"
"Please send me some manpower……. I'm drowning in work……."
This was the work you dumped on me.
Take responsibility and clean it up.
"Ah. Right—you wouldn't have the connections in this field. The scale suddenly ballooned, but the staff is still the same handful we split off from the foundation, isn't it?"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"I should have paid more attention to that. Sorry. I'll send you the contact info for our headhunters and agencies—use your own eye and hire well."
"Overwhelming gratitude……!"
Good.
If I hired a mountain of employees, things would work out somehow. Clean this up fast and go home.
But if I go home, I'll just have to manage the merchant group again.
Work this way, work that way—the entire world was overflowing with labor.
Ugh. My miserable lot in life.
How on earth had it come to this? I was clearly trying to half-ass things, tank the business, and live as a resting youth. Why did every venture keep succeeding? Why did the number of merchant groups under my management keep growing?
Was this even right?
Was it okay for business to be this easy?
"……For now, let's just hire people."
Right. Don't think too deeply. Thinking only made my head hurt. For now, focus on reducing the work right in front of me, one task at a time.
In the end, after weeks of grinding and grinding some more, I finally achieved automation.
Meaning: I had placed the right people in the right places.
Wow. I really worked my ass off.
If I tried to explain everything that happened over those weeks, tears would genuinely well up.
Interviewing countless new hires, assessing each person's capabilities and assigning them accordingly, separating for-profit and non-profit operations, then splitting those again into several specialized divisions by type; networking with imperial officials and nobles; smiling for photos in front of reporters—I worked to an absurd degree.
It completely contradicted my life philosophy…… but if I wanted to reduce my workload, I had no choice.
Working hard in order to work less. Talk about a contradiction.
Anyway, thanks to all that, I had perfectly automated the foundation's operations.
Which meant I no longer had to do a single thing.
Now I can finally rest for real…….
Ahh. So this is what they call being bourgeois.
You can just dump the work onto the laborers.
Haha! I have been liberated from labor! No one can chain me to a company ever again! Otto is free! Otto comes free of charge!
The communication magitool in the hotel room rang.
Hmm. Something feels off.
Nah. Just spam, probably. Better not check. I'd heard voice phishing was rampant these days. Best policy was to ignore it completely.
But the magitool refused to stop. It kept ringing and ringing and ringing.
In the end, I checked who was calling.
[Lothringen Merchant Lord]
"Aha. Voice phishing."
What did they call this again? Impersonation phishing? Pretending to be family to squeeze money out of you.
My name had been in the news a lot lately, so of course I'd landed on some scammers' target list while they were hunting for prey.
Mmm. That had to be it.
Knock, knock.
Huh. Now they were even knocking on the door.
Ignoring it…… probably wasn't an option.
"Who is it?"
"Guest, would your name happen to be Otto Lothringen?"
"It is."
"The Lothringen Merchant Lord asked us to have you return his call."
"On second thought, I don't think that's me."
"Pardon?"
"No, I mean—understood."
"Ah, yes. Please enjoy the rest of your stay."
"It was enjoyable until a moment ago. Now it's going to be miserable."
I let out a sigh and picked up the communication magitool.
What was Dad's contact again…….
It rang.
[Lothringen Merchant Lord]
Great timing.
No—he'd been calling nonstop, so it wasn't really good timing. He'd probably just contacted the hotel and immediately dialed again.
"Yes, Dad."
"Son. Why has it been so hard to reach you?"
"Voice phishing is rampant these days. I've been ignoring every call that isn't official business."
"Aha. Anyway, I heard you wrapped up the work your brother handed you quite nicely."
"Yes, yes."
"Come back to the main house and take over the merchant group."
"Uh, the mana wave connection is really bad. What did you say? Kssht, kssht……."
"I'll tell your big sister to drag you back by force."
Big sister.
For reference, Rosé was the little sister. There was a separate big sister.
Of course, Big Sister adored me too…… in a somewhat extreme fashion. Her personality was rather unhinged, you see.
"Is Big Sister already back from the front? I thought she was busy with the munitions business. Something about a monster nest being discovered beyond the border—that was the year before last, wasn't it?"
"Your sister decided to do some field sales and personally wiped the place out."
"Ah."
"Which is why she's currently standing in the corner as punishment. I told her to sell weapons, and she picked them up and flattened a battlefield instead. We did somehow land the contract thanks to it, but……."
"Sounds like her."
"I swear, no matter how old she gets, she never grows up."
For the record, my sister was a Swordmaster.
The kind who could draw a blade and swing sword aura around. In the martial arts novels of my previous life, they'd have called her a peak transcendent or flower-realm master.
"Understood. I'll head over right away."
Anyway—if Big Sister was involved, resistance was futile.
I surrendered without further protest.
It's been a while since I saw Big Sister's face.
No matter how much I hated working, I still had to see my family's faces now and then.
"Hah! Little bro! Long time no see!"
"Uh. Sis."
"Ahahaha! Still such a tiny body! You're not exercising properly, are you? I told you to eat proper meals! A man needs strength in his thighs, you hear me?"
"That's sexual harassment."
"Keheheh, sexual harassment between family? And besides—don't you know there's no such thing as man or woman on the battlefield?"
"I'm not going to any battlefield……?"
"Aigoo. What am I going to do with such a fragile little brother?"
My sister hoisted me up with both hands like I weighed nothing.
I stared down at her with the dead-eyed look of a chilled cheese cat being held aloft by a human.
"Liselotte. I'd really appreciate it if you put me down now."
"Ahaha. Sorry, sorry."
Liselotte Lothringen.
That woman of overwhelming brute strength was my big sister.