episode_0100
by fnovelpia
100. Looking for Part-Time Work!
After acting cute with Erica, I received an all-purpose document.
Just show this document anywhere, and you can get anything for free.
It’s practically Erica’s command—an all-access pass to do whatever I want.
“Your cute act works surprisingly well, huh?”
Maybe I should just live under Erica, acting cute all the time?
For a moment, the thought seemed serious, but I could never tolerate that.
What I truly want isn’t money but freedom.
Plus, no matter how much I act cute, she’d still pile work on me.
Lightly brushing off my lingering hesitation, I step forward.
The first place I head to with the document in hand is Plaza Frezia.
To mark the beginning of my grand and majestic plan.
Standing at the center of the plaza, I shout loudly.
“Attention—!!”
“It’s Lord Cain!”
“Wooaah—!!”
People cheer and react with enthusiasm.
Why are they so happy just seeing me?
Huh? Some are even bowing in my direction.
I can’t understand why they’re acting like this.
Either way, their friendliness makes things easier, which is good enough.
Clearing my throat with an exaggerated *ahem*, I raise my voice again.
“Looking for part-time workers for the next 12 days!”
The crowd’s reaction turns cold.
Well…
“Part-time?”
“What’s that?”
“Is it some noble jargon?”
Ah… So the concept or term “part-time job” doesn’t exist yet.
Flustered, I rephrase for the citizens.
“Looking for people to do side jobs for 12 days—hard work!”
“Side jobs?”
“Out of nowhere? Well… not bad.”
The murmurs resume.
It’s the busy farming season, but harvests are almost done.
After paying taxes and selling leftover crops, work slows down.
It’s almost time to rest… but that also means less income.
I made this offer considering the farmers’ free time.
A woman timidly raises her hand.
“What kind of work would it be?”
Hm, people should know what they’re getting into.
But the crowd turns pale, scolding the woman.
“Hey! Are you insane? A noble’s calling for you!”
“Looks like we’ll have sword-wielding women in the plaza soon…”
“If a conscription order comes, we can’t refuse… Tsk, youngsters these days.”
Ah…
I’ve tried changing things so they’re treated more humanely, but…
This is still the 800s—medieval times—with people who’ve lived like this forever.
Nobles summoning people without question is everyday life.
“Huh? No. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”
“But…”
“Seriously. I said it’s a side job…”
Finally, hope flickers in their eyes.
After all, I was forcefully enlisted just because Erica needed soldiers.
Human rights? In the Middle Ages? Unheard of.
Forced conscription, no compensation, prison for refusal…
Unthinkable in modern times… Wait…
A dark thought crosses my mind, but I shake my head and refocus.
First, I need to explain what a side job is.
“First job—mining.”
“What are we mining?”
“Saltpeter.”
The crowd buzzes in confusion.
Of course, they wouldn’t know what saltpeter is in this era.
It’s a nitrate mineral, like potassium nitrate.
A limestone byproduct given to me by a bald blacksmith in the countryside.
So far, I only needed it for explosive arrows—enough for personal use.
But now, on a national scale, I need massive amounts for gunpowder.
Not to mention, I ran out of gunpowder after making cannons…
“Anyway, if you join, I’ll teach you everything.
We’ll prioritize those with mining experience.”
Some visibly relax.
Minimal impurities are best, so experienced miners or laborers are ideal.
But even newcomers can help with transport—no worries.
“Second job—arrow crafting.”
“Ah, guess war’s coming.”
Arrows were valuable in any era, especially the Middle Ages.
Straight shafts with feathers and sharpened arrowheads.
Quality varied—handmade, inconsistent, precious.
No wonder Zhuge Liang risked his life for arrows in the fog.
“Same rule here. Those with arrow-making or blacksmithing experience preferred.”
“Understood…”
“Though these won’t be ordinary arrows.”
Well…
A 120cm arrow is still an arrow, right?
Lastly, the job least likely to attract volunteers.
“The last one… involves handling poop.”
“Ugh…”
“I get it. But anyone can apply. Good memory and diligence are enough.”
And with that, the recruitment pitch ends.
I glance at the girl who dared to ask about the work earlier.
“Does that clear things up?”
“Yes…”
But she still looks doubtful.
Then Dana, standing nearby—the daughter of a farming family I recently surveyed for harvest data—raises her hand.
“It still feels like… forced conscription.”
She catches herself, switching from polite to casual speech.
Right, she’s a commoner—casual is natural.
I think it over and realize why they’re skeptical.
For me, a modern thinker, unpaid labor is unthinkable.
But for medieval folks? Different story.
When nobles call, you obey—or face prison… or worse.
I forgot because I’m already on Erica’s payroll.
With a loud *clap!* I refocus the crowd.
“Seems we misunderstood each other. Living in this rural noble-free zone, I forgot.”
“Huh?”
“Of course, it’s voluntary—with pay! A real ‘side job’!”
Finally, their eyes brighten with understanding.
A man eagerly raises his hand.
“How much payment…?”
“Hey hey! You think Lord Cain is your buddy?!”
Another interrupts, but I raise a palm to stop them.
“Everyone will sign in. Wage—1 silver per hour.”
“Wha—?”
“1 silver. Per hour.”
Equivalent to roughly 10,000 won hourly—a high-paying gig.
Factory work pays only 5,000 won hourly…
A sweet short-term gig for two weeks.
No forced conscription, generous pay—utterly unheard of.
The stunned crowd murmurs until one shouts:
“How do we trust you?! What if you back out later?!”
“Silence!!! He’s a god! Doubt him not!”
“To lose faith is to invite death…!!”
I’m not a god, though…
Frezia attracts many migrants lately.
Locals and long-term settlers trust me, but newcomers remain wary.
How awful must nobles treat commoners?
Judging by their reactions, it’s not good.
Scammed after forced labor? Disgusting.
Anyway, the solution is simple—proof.
And proving things is my specialty.
I pull out a document from my pocket.
“What’s… that?”
“Official endorsement from Former Grand Duchess Erica Grace!”
—Murmurs erupt.
My words are Erica’s words.
My money is Erica’s money.
The moment I show this, I’m invincible—and Erica, divine.
Finally trusting, the crowd surges forward.
“I’m a miner! From Scarletz!!”
“I can craft 100 arrows a day!!”
“Broke as hell! I’ll shovel poop!!”
Diverse talents gather.
More labor is always welcome.
But one odd kid stands out…
“And you?”
“Me! Runaway!”
“Huh?”
A bold little girl, around 12, introduces herself.
“Me smart!”
“Oh… really?”
“Me smarter than you!!”
“Hahaha…”
Her arrogance is blinding.
At barely 140cm, I crouch to meet her eyes.
“Why’d you run away?”
“Dad keeps making me work! I just wanna chill!”
…Are you my daughter?
Our mindsets are eerily identical.
“So I ran! But gotta eat, so work! Duh!”
Smart… or not?
Sensing my doubt, she puffs her chest.
“Me genius!”
Her confidence is something else.
“Fine. What’s 428 × 35?”
“14,980. Why?! Testing me?!”
Wait… let me calculate….
She’s… right?
Instant mental math—under a second.
I escalate the challenge.
“Multiply every number from 1 to 100.”
“Hold on…93,326,215,443,944….”
“How are you doing this?!”
I know the answer—too long to memorize, but the digits match.
My jaw drops.
The girl beams.
“Me genius!!”
Truly chaotic times.
A prodigy volunteering to shovel poop?
“Your name?”
“Amelie!!”
Amelie Eleonore.
Later, I learn she’s among the empire’s top five geniuses.
Erica values her highly as a master strategist.
And so begins my first encounter with this brat—obsessed with outsmarting me.
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