On the main highways of the North, soldiers and knights regularly patrolled.

There were even rumors that high-ranking knights, under the title of Executors, conducted secret inspections on a periodic basis.

“What do you think? What’s your impression of the North so far?”

“I’ll be honest. I’m shocked.”

Entir replied truthfully to the question from Balzac, the elderly knight who was serving as his guide.

“Has it always been like this?”

Entir, a noble and a merchant of the Empire, addressed the Frostblade Demon respectfully.

“Not quite to this extent.”

“And now?”

“It hasn’t even been a year.”

Balzac gestured toward the roads beyond the city.

Outside the roads and city limits, the people they encountered were mostly low-level adventurers or ordinary peasants.

In the Empire, such individuals were the ones most closely watched—they could turn into bandits or robbers at any moment.

“Is it because of Arad Salt?”

“Something like that.”

But in this land, things were different.

Here, people were entirely preoccupied with gathering wild herbs.

For the poor, it was far more profitable to gather even a single herb for Arad Salt production than to risk their lives in bloody violence.

“There aren’t any disputes over territory for gathering herbs? Normally, that would lead to fights over who controls specific areas.”

“Anyone who tries that loses their head. The North is vast and sparsely populated, so you rarely find fools who’d attempt something so stupid.”

“Ah… I see.”

“Knights and soldiers in the North focus on patrolling the areas outside cities and villages, systematically hunting monsters and beasts.”

“It’s more organized than I expected.”

Entir traveled through the North almost like a tourist, and Balzac served as his informal guide, staying by his side.

After about fifteen days of travel, the two finally reached Renslet Fortress, the seat of the Northern Grand Duchy.

“There it is—Highcastle,” Balzac said, pointing. “See those large, sprawling buildings on the outskirts? Those are the factories run by the Arad Company.”

“So, from there…?”

“That’s where the famous Northern Celadon is produced. Though I must say, they’ve built a lot more since I was last here.”

Entir, looking dazed, fixed his gaze in the direction of Highcastle. More precisely, his eyes were locked on the industrial complex on its outskirts.

Even for a seasoned merchant like him, the sight of such enormous workshop buildings was a first.

“Where would you like to go first? Shall we head to Highcastle to pay respects to the Grand Duke? Or do you want to see the industrial complex first?”

“I’d like to see the Arad Company first,” Entir replied, a little hesitant. He worried it might seem disrespectful, given that the proper protocol when visiting any territory was to meet the ruling lord first.

“Follow me, then. Conveniently, today’s payday, so they’re only working half the day. We’ll eat there too—it’s free for us.”

To Entir’s surprise, Balzac agreed readily and without hesitation.

“Payday…? Half-day work…? Free meals…?”

Entir repeated the unfamiliar terms he’d just heard, utterly intrigued by the North’s remarkably laid-back approach.

The words felt anything but ordinary.

***

As Balzac guided Entir through the Arad Industrial Complex, his thoughts churned.

“So it’s true, just as Count Jin said. I still can’t quite believe it,” he mused silently.

Though Entir was an Imperial noble, Balzac found it impossible to hate him. In fact, he felt a surprising swell of pity for the man.

“A wife who’s been cheating on him for years, children who aren’t even his own, and to top it all off, the lover is none other than the Crown Prince! And despite knowing all this, he does nothing because he fears his wife, a Swordmaster.”

Balzac considered what he would have done in Entir’s position.

“Ugh…”

The thought alone made his head spin and left him feeling faint.

“Speaking of which, Sir Balzac.”

Entir suddenly broke the silence, addressing Balzac directly.

“Speak.”

“Did you handle them? The tails that were sent to spy on me?”

“Of course. There were four of them, and the Frostblade took care of them before they could send word through carrier pigeons. Their bodies are probably in some monster’s belly by now.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Entir ground his teeth but still expressed his gratitude.

“To my shame, I had no idea I was being watched for so long.”

He had only recently discovered that someone had been observing him from afar for years. The Frostblade members, Eothe and Karot, had taken immediate action to eliminate the spies.

“My knights said they were no ordinary opponents. It’s no wonder you didn’t notice. It’s a pity, though. They were skilled enough to make capture impossible. If I had gone personally, it might’ve been different.”

Balzac’s tone carried genuine regret. Capturing someone alive is infinitely more difficult than simply killing them, especially when the skill gap isn’t significant.

“It couldn’t be helped.”

“Do you have any idea who might have sent them?”

“It’s likely my wife.”

“Ah…”

At that moment, Balzac had no doubts about Entir’s sincerity.

If this man were to rise in rebellion, who wouldn’t sympathize?

Arad’s advice—Don’t trust people; trust circumstances—resonated deeply in that instant.

“When Arad first suggested recruiting Entir, I didn’t understand it at all.”

Entir, after all, was the husband of the Marchioness of Havana, one of the Empire’s most prominent reformist nobles.

“Such a man, recruited to our cause? It seemed absurd.”

“Mark my words, Entir probably despises the Imperial family more than anyone else on the continent right now.”
“You’re telling me the Marchioness of Havana and Crown Prince Canbraman are… involved? And that the children are his?”
“Yes, precisely.”
“I find that hard to believe. Why would a Swordmaster of her caliber do such a thing?”
“Entir thought the same until reality hit him.”

At first, no one believed Arad.

“Can you bring him to the North? I have plans that involve him.”
“Even the Frostblade can only operate so freely within the Empire. And the Marquisate of Havana is in the far South!”
“There’s no need to go South. He’ll come to us.”
“And why would he leave the warm South to come here?”
“The Arad Company is about to launch a revolutionary product. That alone will draw him here. Whatever else might be going on in his life, a merchant is a merchant.”

As absurd as it sounded, everyone eventually agreed to go along with Arad’s plan. Not only because it was Arad, but also because the Grand Duchess herself had personally requested it.

Several months later, as the seasons shifted from summer to autumn and finally to winter, everything unfolded exactly as Arad had predicted.

“Who is this man, really?”

Balzac couldn’t help but wonder.

Arad claimed to have been a low-level adventurer wandering the continent in the past, but Balzac knew there was nothing ordinary about him.

“Could he be the one who uncovered the ruins of the Golden Age, as Isabel suggested? Or is he one of the Ancients, as the Grand Duchess speculated? Neither seems quite right to me…”

The more he observed, the more curious and extraordinary Arad seemed. Yet, one thing was clear:

“What’s undeniable is that Arad cares for the North and the Grand Duchess more than anyone else. And that’s what matters.”

Balzac decided once again not to rely on blind trust in Arad as a person but rather on the results of Arad’s actions.

“The operation name was Mirror Therapy, wasn’t it? A fitting name indeed. After all, if the Empire could do it to us, there’s no reason we can’t do the same to them.”

Balzac chuckled softly, glancing at Entir, who was walking a few steps ahead of him.

***

Although Entir was clearly an outsider, not a single person in the Arad Company Industrial Complex dared to interfere with him.

The soldiers and knights of Highcastle, who guarded the area with strict vigilance, opened pathways at a mere glance from Balzac, moving like automatic doors.

Thanks to this, Entir was free to explore the industrial complex at his leisure.

“This… This isn’t just a trading guild. It’s not just a large workshop or a guild either. This is something entirely new…!”

The moment he stepped into the Arad Industrial Complex, Entir was overwhelmed.

“Centralization! That’s it! They’ve centralized everything—guilds, workshops, and merchant companies!”

To him, this place felt more dazzling than any gold mine.

“Incredible! Such an absurdly meticulous and efficient production process! How did no one think of this before!?”

Entir was practically enraptured, like a fanatic receiving divine revelation.

“No, someone must have thought of it. But they couldn’t implement it because of those stubborn, self-righteous guilds and artisans.”

It felt as though an entirely new world was unfolding before his eyes.

However, as time went on, the ecstatic expression on Entir’s face grew more serious.

“Hmm…!?”

“What’s the problem? Not to your liking?” Balzac asked.

“No, no, it’s delicious. But… do you really provide meals like this for free to your employees?”

“Of course.”

“…”

It started with lunch.

This doesn’t seem right. Providing free meals to employees? How much money is being spent on this? Is this just a temporary measure to implement the weekly pay system?

Just as he had been shocked by the industrial processes earlier, Entir was equally astounded by the welfare benefits provided by Arad Company.

And the shocks only grew more intense the longer he toured the industrial complex.

Resting one day every week is acceptable, but letting employees work only half a day on the sixth day? And even counting rest days as paid work?! Why go this far?

Entir stumbled slightly, feeling a bout of dizziness as he peered into what he perceived as the dark abyss of this “new world.”

“Wait… that woman just received her weekly wages in silver coins!?”

Entir’s shock peaked when he saw Arad’s employees being paid based on a differentiated wage system.

“She earned a lot. It’s because she worked hard enough to deserve it,” Balzac commented.

“No! Weekly wages or not, giving out that much money is absurd! What’s this about performance bonuses and overtime pay on top of that?!”

“Does it seem strange?”

“Strange? This is beyond strange—it’s madness!”

Even high-ranking Imperial officials didn’t receive treatment this generous.

There’s much to learn here, but just as much to reject. Operating a company like this—when do they expect to turn a profit? Tsk, tsk…

Entir clicked his tongue, genuinely baffled and frustrated. He was convinced that if Arad cut just the costs of these excessive benefits, they could easily build ten more workshop buildings like the ones here.

The same feelings of exasperation and disbelief that Balzac, Eothe, and Karot had felt toward Entir earlier were now mirrored in Entir’s view of Arad.

But credit where it’s due.

Watching Arad from a distance, Entir acknowledged the man.

He’s eccentric… no, outright crazy as a merchant. But a remarkable individual nonetheless.

If I ally myself with him, I might just succeed. Revenge!

Entir was, above all else, a merchant who knew how to recognize value.

And to him, this place was a realm of infinite potential.

***

A merchant, by definition, is someone who earns profit through price differences—buying cheap and selling high.

In that sense, I considered myself a merchant.

Why? Because taking raw materials of little value, refining them into valuable goods, and selling them is also a form of capitalizing on price differences.

But there was something unsatisfying and incomplete about that.

If traditional merchants create greater value from existing value, we create value from nothing and turn it into profit.

We’re in a completely different class.

That’s why I chose to call this venture the Arad Company rather than a trading guild or merchant guild.

It’s a more comprehensive term that blends the concepts of a guild and a company.

And because it’s not a mere guild, it made sense for me to be referred to not as a guild master but as a CEO or entrepreneur.

“President Jin Arad, it’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Entir Bishop, President of the Bishop Company. Hahaha!”

Before me stood Entir, a man who seemed remarkably quick to adapt to any situation.

“Yes, Entir, Guild Master of the Bishop Merchant Guild. I’ve heard much about your reputation.”

“Company. President.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It’s the Bishop Company. And I’m Entir Bishop, the president of it.”

“…?”

“So, what’s the reason you specifically sought me out for this meeting, President Jin Arad?”

Even though he had come alone, deep into what could easily be considered enemy territory, Entir was neither intimidated nor flustered.

“Are you offering to sell your Northern Celadon, Mary’s Blessing, or even the technology for crafting Dark Magic Prosthetics to the Bishop Company?”

Far from being afraid, he was downright brazen.