Claude blinked his eyes, his vision blurry. After rubbing them a few times, the world around him became clear again. Luckily, it seemed he hadn't lost his head while he was out cold.

Cautiously, he turned his head to check his surroundings. He was alone in the room.

‘Ugh, I really don’t want to work,’ Claude thought with a deep sigh as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Seriously, shouldn’t they at least give me some time to adjust? How do they expect me to do all that work all of a sudden? It’s not like I’ve lived here my whole life,” he grumbled.

Having lazed around for so long, the idea of suddenly working so much didn’t sit well with him. Plus, the sheer volume of tasks was overwhelming.

“I thought Ghislain was kind-hearted, handing out money so generously, but he’s a demon! A complete demon! How can he expect me to do all that at once? He’s not in his right mind! He should’ve just given me something manageable!” Claude’s muttering grew louder as his frustration mounted.

“He doesn’t appreciate how valuable I am... Just wait. I’ll make sure everything falls apart without me, and then I’ll confront him. Or, better yet, I could just run away. After all, I’m the only one who can do this work, so maybe I should leave right now!” he ranted.

At that moment, the door clicked open.

Claude nearly jumped out of his skin, leaping onto the bed.

“W-Who’s there?” he stammered.

A calm-looking maid entered the room, bowing her head slightly.

“Greetings, Steward. I am Wendy, assigned to serve you by the Head Steward. I’ll also be responsible for your protection. Please, take care of me.”

“Head Steward? Oh, you mean Belinda,” Claude muttered.

Belinda, recently promoted to Head Steward, must have sent this personal maid to him. But protection? Claude scoffed.

“You’re here to serve me, sure, but protect me? A maid tasked with protecting the estate’s steward? They must really be short on people,” he sneered.

Without saying a word, Wendy waved her hand slightly.

Thunk!

Something whizzed past his ear, and he heard a thud from the wall behind him.

Cold sweat ran down Claude’s neck as he slowly turned to see a dagger embedded in the wall—right through a cockroach that had been scuttling by.

Wendy remained composed, her voice steady. “The castle is old, so there are many pests. I expect you to address this issue as well, Steward.”

“...Yes,” Claude stammered, swallowing nervously.

‘She’s just a maid? Nothing in this estate is normal,’ Claude thought, inwardly groaning.

“The Lord has ordered that you begin working as soon as you’ve woken up. It’s time to move, sir.”

“...Yes,” Claude replied, dragging his feet like a condemned man.

So, this “protection” was actually surveillance. There was no way he could escape now—not even the maid would let him off.

Claude got up slowly, feeling like he was being led to the slaughterhouse.

As they were about to leave, Wendy seemed to remember something.

“The Head Steward also told me to pass on a message.”

“What is it?” Claude asked, half-dreading the answer.

“She said you should wash up before starting work. If you give the Lord even a single flea, she’ll kill you.”

“...Understood.”

Claude hadn't had a proper wash during the long journey from Austen to Fenris. As much as he hated to admit it, the idea of cleaning up was appealing.

Still, couldn’t she have said it a little nicer? Was he a steward or a slave?

‘Ugh, everyone here is just waiting for me to mess up. Fine, I’ll do it! I’ll just destroy everything instead,’ he grumbled internally. Of course, there was no way he’d say it out loud—not when there were daggers involved.

Even while heading to the bath and later to the office, Wendy stayed silent. Unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, Claude cautiously asked, “Hey… Are all the servants here like you? Throwing knives without blinking?”

“No, sir. Only a few of us trained directly under the Head Steward since childhood. I was previously assigned to Lady Elena but switched duties recently.”

“Elena? Ah, the Lord’s younger sister. Well, at least not everyone’s like you. That’s a relief.”

If all the maids were like Wendy, even eating would be a nerve-wracking experience.

With a heavy heart, Claude arrived at the office and let out another sigh. The desk was piled high with documents.

These were all the backlogged tasks the lower-ranked officials had dumped on him. And that wasn’t even the end of it—there were still all the additional duties Ghislain had assigned him.

‘Well, no point complaining. I’ll just have to work myself to the bone.’

A few days later, Claude looked gaunt. His face was hollowed out from the relentless work.

Sifting through documents with hollow eyes, he muttered to himself, “Is it even possible to revive this place? This estate is completely ruined… The Lord may be competent, but even that’s not enough…”

Everything Ghislain had ordered was necessary for the estate’s prosperity. It was surprising how much he knew, considering most nobles didn’t have a clue how their lands operated.

Most nobles only cared about money and military power.

But Ghislain? He had meticulously instructed Claude on countless tasks, showing a deep understanding of what the estate needed.

The issue was that all these improvements required money. Lots of it.

Construction would take time, though mages could speed things up. However, Fenris estate was like a bottomless pit. Whatever money was poured in had to be replenished somehow, and Fenris had no means of generating income.

“Right now, the only source of money is the Lord’s runestones.”

But even those weren’t limitless.

While there wasn’t an immediate problem, without a stable source of income, the estate would soon run dry, leaving them worse off than before.

After reviewing the situation multiple times, Claude still couldn’t see a solution.

“Money… I need to find a way to make money.”

Claude’s face brightened as an idea struck him.

“That could work! Hehehe…”

If they were going to make money, it had to be in a big, easy way. And Claude knew just the thing.

“I’ve got to report this anyway… Might as well push it all at once. He might even like it.”

Gathering up his notes, Claude strolled toward the council room.

‘A hero always arrives fashionably late,’ he thought, deliberately slowing his pace. Wendy, walking behind him, spoke up.

“Steward, you’re walking too slowly. The Lord is likely already there.”

“...I know, but don’t rush me. Can’t I at least walk at my own pace? I’m exhausted, and this is the only chance I get to rest.”

Wendy glanced at him with faint pity. Claude’s face was worn from lack of sleep, and despite his brash personality, she could see he had been overworked.

“...Very well. Walk at your own pace, sir.”

Feeling victorious at this small concession, Claude strutted even more slowly.

By the time he finally reached the hall, Ghislain and the other retainers were already gathered.

The retainers bowed as Claude entered, and he lifted his chin, savoring the attention.

‘Ah, so this is why people crave power. The workload sucks, but this part is pretty nice.’

As much as he complained, Claude had to admit—he held considerable power in Fenris. With all the roles Ghislain had dumped on him, he was essentially second in command, with full authority within the estate.

And with the power to appoint staff, no one dared get on his bad side, lest they end up saddled with extra work.

However, not everyone was so deferential.

Kaor, catching Claude’s eye, openly scowled, making it clear that he was just waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Claude couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

‘Yeah… I shouldn’t provoke that guy. He’s got the patience of an ant’s leg hair.’

Even with Ghislain backing him, Kaor had no qualms about drawing his sword right in front of the Lord.

‘I should try to stay on his good side.’

Claude gave Kaor a slow, deliberate wink.

“Why, you little—!” Kaor exploded.

In an instant, Kaor’s sword was drawn, and he charged at Claude. Wendy quickly stepped in, unsheathing her dagger to block the attack. Belinda moved in beside her, while Gillian grabbed his axe, ready to counter Kaor.

The soldiers stationed in the hall rushed to Ghislain’s side, unsure of what was happening.

The retainers, however, were in a state of panic.

‘What the hell?! They’re drawing weapons in front of the Lord again?!’

‘Where did the Lord find these lunatics?!’

Before things could escalate further, Ghislain stomped his foot lightly, releasing a wave of menacing mana that filled the room.

Everyone froze in place.

In a cold, indifferent voice, Ghislain spoke.

“Enough. What do you think you’re doing, brawling in the council chamber?”

Reluctantly, everyone sheathed their weapons and returned to their positions.

Kaor, still seething, glared daggers at Claude before finally looking away.

Claude let out a deep sigh of relief.

‘That guy’s got no friends. I’ll bet my last hair on it.’

Once the chaotic atmosphere settled, Ghislain turned to Claude and asked, “So, how’s the work coming along?”

“Well… We’ve started gathering supplies and labor, and we’re tracking down the mountain folk as instructed. But…”

“But?”

“Lord, I think you need to scrap everything and start over.”

The retainers turned pale.

They had already begun spending significant amounts of money on various projects, all under Ghislain’s direct orders.

Yet here was Claude, suggesting that they abandon all of it.

Ghislain, however, merely raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“There are plenty! Way more than you realize,” Claude replied, swallowing nervously under Ghislain’s expectant gaze. He continued, “First off, the land here is too barren. No matter what farming methods we try, we won’t be able to increase production. No food means no population growth, and without more people, there’s no increase in taxes.”

Ghislain nodded slowly, signaling for Claude to continue.

“Now, you’re building all these new facilities, but where’s the money for upkeep going to come from? There’s no tax revenue!”

“I see.”

“Look, we’ve got no resources. No natural products, no artisans to produce trade goods, and we’re not even near a trade route. The bottom line is there’s no way to make money here.”

“It does sound dire.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying! It’s hopeless! There’s just no way to make this place work.”

The retainers, especially those who had lived in Fenris all their lives, couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Previous lords had tried every method imaginable to revive the estate, but all had failed. The last lord had even gone to war, hoping to secure some kind of breakthrough. In the end, he’d died in defeat.

Seeing their agreement, Claude grew more confident.

“I’ll admit some facilities are necessary. I get that. But there’s no reason to build so much right now! What good are fancy buildings in an estate that’s practically penniless?”

“Why are you being so negative?!” Belinda shouted suddenly.

“I’m not being negative, just realistic!”

“But we have plenty of runestones! We can just use those!” she argued.

“I already told you, the problem is upkeep! Runestones aren’t going to last forever! You’re going to blow through them now, and when they run out, you’ll have nothing left!”

“That’s why you’re here—to solve that problem!”

Claude couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

“Do you think I’m a god? That I can just wave my hand and turn barren land into fertile fields? That I can strike a mine and gold will pour out? The only way to fix this estate is for an actual god to come down and rebuild everything!”

“Why aren’t you a god?!”

“...Good question. I wish I were. It’d make things so much easier…” Claude muttered, glancing nervously at Ghislain.

“Uh… That’s not to say…”

Ghislain chuckled, nodding understandingly. “I’m not asking you to work miracles. But it sounds like you’ve got a better idea. What’s your plan?”

Claude straightened up, grinning.

“Yes! The issue is stable income. We need a reliable source of revenue. So I came up with a plan—one that will make money quickly and easily. You’re going to love it!”

Ghislain raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What is it?”

Claude declared with confidence, “We open a casino!”

In that moment, Belinda’s foot flew through the air, landing squarely on Claude’s face.