episode_0042

42. No, I Don’t Want To, Stop It!

The past week in Redmain has been incredibly eventful.

Every morning, I worked with Brook and Eightree on improving canned food production and factory designs.

Afterward, I’d report directly to Erica, receive feedback, and make endless revisions.

On top of that, as if overflowing with energy, Brook and Eightree kept coming up with ideas to upgrade the factory further.

At noon, I brainstormed business strategies with Adel.

How to minimize losses and maximize profits when transporting guano.

Marketing approaches for the piano, and how to position it—along with future products—as luxury items rather than cheap knockoffs.

Evenings were spent discussing politics and administration with Aries and Erica.

“Gaining the people’s loyalty will benefit you greatly, Lady Erica.”

“I agree. The question is, which policies and tactics would help them most. And crucially… whether they can feel the difference firsthand.”

In truth, this was practically a debate showdown between Aries and Erica.

I merely watched silently, nodding and smiling as I listened—after all, I was never involved in politics to begin with.

At best, I’d occasionally toss out a random suggestion.

Like this:

“How about reducing taxes and making them payable in cash?”

“Hah?”

Currently, the commoners’ tax burden is brutal.

Farmers typically hand over about 50% of their harvest as tax.

Only merchants pay taxes in cash.

Considering most people survive by farming, a cash-based tax system would be revolutionary.

For rulers like Erica, crops and food are synonymous with power.

Even if it’s coming from me—her cunning “fox”—she can’t easily accept such a suggestion.

Knowing full well it wouldn’t fly, I just rambled whatever came to mind.

“Crop taxes are calculated by weight, but bulkiness leads to too much embezzlement along the way.”

“True.”

“Cash taxes would be better. Mandate something like 10%.”

Erica crossed her arms, sinking into deep thought.

After a long silence, she shook her head.

“Even coming from you, that proposal is problematic.

Taxes are power—the means to maintain armies.

Reducing them would undermine welfare or wartime capabilities.

I like the cash system, but lowering the tax rate is out of the question.”

“But we have other revenue streams, don’t we?”

Erica blinked in surprise at my offhand remark.

Then, as if considering something entirely new, she began piecing together an idea.

“Right… Our lands are different from others’.

We’ve built factories providing mass employment, and most businesses are monopolized by House Grace…”

“A strangely beautiful imbalance, no?

With more diverse jobs and cash transactions, tax reform becomes inevitable.

Though fewer farmers could strain food supplies…”

“Our fox claims guano—white seabird droppings—can triple harvests.

With House Grace directly managing factories, tax reduction becomes viable.

Selling luxury goods regionally instead of just through our house would stimulate the economy…

And lower taxes would resonate strongly with commoners. Cash payments would also curb middleman theft.”

“That ‘Heaven-Sent Genius’ title suits you well.

For someone lacking eloquence, you’ve calculated even this?”

No… I just threw out modern concepts…

At most, I thought of using factories for corporate profits.

Economics? Job diversity? Cash reducing embezzlement? I barely understood half of it.

Struggling to keep a straight face, I smiled while enduring their intense gazes.

Aries stared at me with sparkling eyes, utterly impressed.

“A method I’d never considered…

Taxing people in cash instead of crops would lighten their burden, turning grievances into joy.”

“Hah, there’s a reason I treasure this one!

More people will flock here, bringing wealth long-term.

We might even establish a financial oversight body.”

“Indeed.

Unlike us, the ‘Heaven-Sent Genius’ operates on another level.

Twisting conventional assumptions yields far better solutions.”

And so, my (mis)reputation grew.

Later, tax reforms, corporatization, urban planning, and banking—wrongly attributed to me—spread empire-wide.

But that’s a story for another time…

Regardless, evenings in the carriage were torture.

By the time I was drained, Vivian Grace would hunt me down.

All week, she cornered me, performing unspeakable acts and steadily sapping my energy.

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A week later, Presia—capital of Redmain and Erica’s city.

News of Erica’s return drew a crowd of dignitaries waiting outside the mansion.

Nobles in lavish attire.

A famed bard in flamboyant garments.

An elderly scholar whose name alone commands empire-wide respect.

Even a renowned author with countless works.

Figures who’d receive imperial honors at the palace.

Usually too dignified to wait, they chatted among themselves.

“Never thought I’d meet the legendary painter Eisen Kraus like this.”

“And I, the esteemed scholar behind those seminal texts… on the streets, no less.”

“Well, it’s a fine day for it.”

Their reason for braving the cold?

“How often does one get to converse with the ‘Heaven-Sent Genius’?”

To meet Cain—a commoner dubbed “Heaven-Sent Genius.”

Geniuses are prideful, obsessive, and often eccentric.

To them, Cain is an enigma.

Inventors spend lifetimes perfecting one creation.

Yet inventions pour from Cain like a faucet: heaters, airships, pencils, type, pianos…

Industrial methods unthinkable in this medieval world—metallurgy, mechanical interactions—all conjured almost whimsically.

Heaters for military and domestic use.

Pencils affordable even for peasants, revolutionizing art.

Movable type for mass printing.

Pianos transforming music.

In an age of scarce knowledge, Cain reshapes entire fields overnight.

Naturally, these idle geniuses grew obsessed.

Now they awaited his carriage like subjects awaiting royalty.

At last…

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The familiar mansion signaled an end.

An end to what?

This interminable debate hell.

We finished reviewing 170 documents by day four.

Then Aries monopolized my time for discussions.

I’d merely hinted at modern concepts—these geniuses extrapolated entire systems.

Aries treated me as omnipotent, consulting me on every idea.

Clueless about administration, I just nodded and smiled.

Erica, meanwhile, puffed her tiny chest pridefully.

“Ah… Finally in sight.”

The Grace family mansion—both prison and salvation after this torturous week.

Brook and Eightree, lifelong workshop dwellers, gaped at the grand estate.

“Kah…! Now this is fitting for someone of my stature!”

“Sniff… No more moving anvils onto dining tables?”

The dwarves basked in their newfound prestige.

Meanwhile, I bolted from the carriage the moment it stopped.

Protocol dictates the lord exits first, but I was past caring.

Pure relief from mental and physical exhaustion.

Kneeling on the ground, I spread my arms and shouted skyward:

“FREEDOM—!!”

A week drained of stamina, sanity, and vitality.

A week of 120% brain usage on two hours of sleep.

I resolved to draft five resignation letters once inside.

But as I opened my eyes to Redmain’s crisp breeze…

“…Who are you?”

Ten-odd dignified strangers stared at my jailbreak-esque display.

One even sketched my posture onto canvas.

Erica, stepping down, startled at the gathering before bowing slightly.

“Scholar Leokratous de Valmont, hailed as the empire’s finest.

Painter Eisen Kraus, creator of masterpieces that’ll endure five centuries.

And other esteemed guests—welcome.”

Wow. If Erica respects them, they’re titans.

Like da Vinci or Newton in my world? And nine others of that caliber?

And I struck a “Freedom” pose before them?

Mortified, I tried sneaking away unnoticed…

“Greetings, Lord Cain.”

“Uh… Yes?”

An elderly man—tall, impeccably bearded, exuding charm—suddenly addressed me.

Seizing my hand, he smiled warmly and asked:

“What do you believe is key to stabilizing the realm?”

“Huh?”

What kind of question is this?

Flustered, I glanced back—Aries watched expectantly.

Erica, intrigued, offered no help.

The other geniuses fixed me with expectant stares.

They wanted an answer. So I pondered.

Not utopia—just fixing this mess where nobles assassinate emperors, adventurers rebel, and people starve.

“Well-fed, warm-clothed commoners would help?”

“Oh? How?”

Eyebrow raised, the scholar leaned in.

I gave the simplest answer possible:

“More jobs beyond farming, art, or theology.

Good pay means population growth, more taxes, better welfare, stronger armies…”

“A virtuous cycle, beautiful in its simplicity yet profound.”

He stroked his beard, deep in thought.

“And you, Lord Cain, possess that capacity.”

“No, I’m just—”

“Beyond sufficient. I stake my reputation on Erica Grace’s word.”

Erica, fanning the flames, showed boundless faith in me.

As resentment swelled, the scholar burst into laughter—not polite, but childlike glee.

“Hahaha—! I dreamed something peculiar.

A solar eclipse—sun swallowing moon. The blackened sun burned above me, then lifted me up.”

He gazed at Erica and me.

“The sun’s brilliance illuminates the empire, while the moon lights its darkest nights.

Heaven’s decree, perhaps—to follow these two.”

“I adore that symbolism. Especially the merging.”

What symbolism? Being compared to prodigy Erica is pressure incarnate.

The scholar then bowed to Erica.

“I, Lukarion Luzellan, humbly pledge myself to Erica Grace.”

Three others knelt behind him.

Aries approached, smiling.

“Duke Grace, as I said—grand ambitions require grand allies.”

“Aries Verachia, was this your doing?”

“Yes. These luminaries rival even House Verachia’s prestige.”

“If my fox quenches my thirst, you are the fire that warms me.”

Erica had long worried about her image.

Hiring a commoner like me and appearing eccentric risked losing talent to the refined Cecelia.

Aries’ networking solved this in one stroke.

And thank goodness.

I thought they’d torment me again…

But just as I tried slipping away, six figures blocked me.

“Uh… Lady Erica’s hiring—”

“We weren’t invited.”

“Huh?”

“We came to share knowledge and inspire genius with you.”

?

Weren’t these Lukarion’s people?

Nope—they seized my hands, bombarding me with questions about art, medicine, theology, and inspiration.

Wait—Erica only greeted the scholar and painter earlier.

Meaning these were Newton/da Vinci-tier geniuses.

Their jargon-heavy debates made my head spin.

I shot Erica a pleading look—mercifully, she intervened.

“Ahem. My fox belongs to me.”

My liege! I knew I could count on you!

Moved, I decided to shelve those resignations.

“So let’s adjourn to my mansion.

Why not reside here awhile longer and converse at leisure?”

Are you human or demon?!

Selling me out for free residency for geniuses?!

Furious, I rebelled—petty but defiant.

“No, I don’t want to, stop it…!”

“Chilly out here. Let’s head in, my fox.”

My resistance failed. Back in the mansion, the geniuses resumed their intellectual onslaught.

I deeply regretted not defecting to the emperor… or following Liriana instead.