Both in the North and the Empire, the lives of the impoverished were equally harsh.

The difference lay only in whether the hardships came from nature or from monsters.

While the North faced food shortages due to harsh winters, the Empire and the Kingdoms suffered from constant shortages caused by the nobles’ exploitation.

Where the North battled threats from monsters and barbarian tribes, the Empire and the Kingdoms faced the horrors of war.

Perhaps being oppressed by one’s own kind was more soul-crushing than enduring the trials of nature and savagery.

And now, winter had arrived in the southern lands of the North.

A bitter cold season.

Though not as harsh as in the North, winter in the Empire also brought frigid temperatures and a lack of work.

This was especially true in the central-northern regions of the Empire, which were closer to the North.

There, people struggled to reduce the number of mouths to feed, barely surviving under the exploitation of the nobles.

The region was also teeming with deserters from the frequent skirmishes between fiefdoms or those fleeing forced conscription.

This abundance of displaced people allowed Entir Bishop to easily hire workers for his factory.

“Get to work, you lot! If I’ve given you food and shelter during this cold season, you’d better work as if your life depends on it!”

Even late into the night, laborers toiled under lamplight in the factory operated by the Bishop Company.

Cough, cough, cough!

The workers’ hacking coughs echoed in the air, a result of living in barrack-like lodgings barely sufficient to block the wind and working in poorly ventilated conditions.

But no one dared complain.

“Most of you are freed serfs, so this should feel familiar! Just think of it as your lord being replaced by a boss!”

Years ago, the now-ailing Emperor Soled had freed the serfs—a commendable achievement, on paper.

But unprepared freedom turned out to be a disaster.

The freed serfs flooded the cities, becoming vagrants. During harsh winters, hundreds of corpses would be found daily in alleyways and sewers.

“To you, the Bishop Company is like a fief, and President Entir Bishop is your lord! A benevolent and compassionate lord! You’re simply serving a new master in a prosperous fief!”

For those freed serfs, Entir and the Bishop Company seemed like salvation itself.

“Your weekly wage is 20 copper. If you work overtime, you can earn up to 35 copper!”

Although the pay was less than a third of the average wage at the Arad Company, no one complained.

“Lodging fees, break room usage, food expenses, and uniform rental will cost you 20 copper weekly. That means your actual take-home pay can be up to 15 copper!”

Even their food, shelter, and clothing were deducted from their wages, leaving them with barely anything.

Yet still, no one complained.

“Thank President Entir Bishop for giving you work during this freezing winter! Where else could you find a place this safe and steady during this season?!”

To an outsider from the North, the sight of these conditions might have been chilling and infuriating.

But for now, it worked.

The factory was always swarming with people desperate for work, ensuring no one dared voice discontent.

“The Arad Company I saw at the High Fortress was beyond comprehension. So, I’ve reimagined factory operations in my own way.”

As he surveyed the factory, Entir murmured to himself, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“This is it! The most ideal factory model.”

Entir was convinced that his factory’s net profit would surpass that of the Arad Company.

‘A system with no waste, maximizing efficiency!’

The assembly-line production model Entir had implemented was causing seismic shifts in the Empire’s economy.

The goods produced at his factory maintained consistent quality while their production volume soared. As a result, prices dropped to a fifth of their previous levels.

“President! You’re here!”

As Entir arrived for an inspection, the factory manager rushed over, rubbing his hands together obsequiously.

“What are you all standing around for? Tell the workers to come out and greet the president—”

“Didn’t I tell you before? Spend that time doing one more task instead of wasting it on such nonsense!”

Entir sternly reminded him, recalling the striking efficiency he had witnessed at the Arad Company.

“Yes, of course!”

As a result, even with the president walking right beside them, the workers kept their heads down and focused on their tasks.

“Are these the goods for Winters Fief?”

“Yes, they are.”

While inspecting the factory, Entir pointed to a shelf of completed arrows.

“We’ve worked hard to secure this military supply contract, so make sure there are no mistakes.”

“Understood.”

Entir had a natural knack for identifying areas ripe for cheap, mass production.

Though guilds and artisans resisted collaboration, making weapons like swords challenging to mass-produce, arrows were another story entirely.

‘It’s a shame. If we could mass-produce Imperial Steel weapons and armor like this, it would be revolutionary…’

Clicking his tongue, Entir watched the arrow production process unfold.

How incredible would it be to apply this system to produce armor, swords, spears, axes, and shields as efficiently as arrows?

Though he had learned to compromise with reality, the missed opportunities still pained him.

‘Damn guilds, damn artisans, damn workshops…’

He silently cursed the Empire’s closed-minded and prideful artisans and guilds.

Even if he secretly produced equipment using Imperial Steel, the techniques—passed down only as trade secrets—were beyond his reach.

And even if he managed to produce them, the influential guilds and artisans in the Empire wouldn’t let him operate freely.

‘The North must already be mass-producing Northern Steel in their factories.’

The thought of the North crossed his mind.

Though he hadn’t seen any weapons or steel factories there, he was certain Arad and the North would have already prepared for such production.

‘If we could mass-produce Imperial Steel weapons quickly and cheaply, the profits would be overwhelming.’

Imperial Steel was renowned across the continent.

While its quality was on par with Northern Steel, its reputation far surpassed it.

But the time, processes, and costs involved in making Imperial Steel were significantly higher.

‘Not just the Empire but all the way to Vedenheim and the far eastern continent, we could dominate the market! Arad spices, no—Bishop Company’s own brand of ingenuity!’

This wasn’t out of patriotism for the Empire or loyalty to the royal family—it was pure business acumen.

‘Tsk. Someday, the opportunity will come. Someday…’

Until then, Entir decided to focus on the tasks at hand.

The sound of arrow production filled his ears as he snapped back to reality.

“Ah! Was it the third son of Baron Saliman heading to the High Fortress this time?”

While observing the factory, Entir turned to another company executive following behind him.

“That’s correct. Alongside him, there’s the second son of Count Betor and the one-armed swordsman, Philip, an A-rank mercenary.”

The individuals mentioned were all people who had suffered injuries in combat, accidents, or duels.

As a merchant, Entir had a wide network and could easily establish connections with such figures.

“Renslet will handle it, but we must ensure there are no mistakes on our end.”

“Understood.”

Entir skillfully took a cut from the middle, reaping both political and economic benefits.

“Let’s move.”

After a satisfactory inspection, Entir climbed back into his carriage with a contented smile.

Behind him, Carpe and the Red Wolf Company kept a watchful guard.

Whoosh!

A biting late-winter wind swept through the factory buildings.

Carpe glanced at the factory’s windows, illuminated by torches and lamps.

Inside, people shivered as they worked late into the night.

“Thirty-five copper a week for that kind of work?”

Carpe felt no particular emotion as she watched.

‘The world has improved, hasn’t it? A place where vagrants and the poor can work safely and earn money, even in the dead of winter.’

Having experienced the harsh Northern winters as a child and countless battlefields as an adult, she viewed the factory’s conditions as a rare blessing.

In her eyes, even the grueling labor here was better than freezing to death on the streets.

Oddly enough, what Carpe found more incomprehensible was what she had seen at the Arad Company in the High Fortress.

***

In the otherworldly land of Arcadia, counterfeiting gold and silver coins was nearly nonexistent.

This was due to a widely known and long-standing magical technology that made it easy to verify the purity of gold and silver.

All it took to create a currency verifier was a metal plate embedded with four low-grade mana stones of different attributes.

Once the coins were placed on the plate, the verifier would emit a glow: gold coins would shine golden, silver coins would radiate a silver light, and copper coins would emit a dark brown glow.

Even during the Dark Age, the equivalent of a cultural revolution in this world, or the Age of Savagery, reminiscent of a Mongol invasion rife with vandalism, this magical technology endured.

Capitalism had outlasted the destruction wrought by both fanaticism and barbarism.

"Well, the simplicity of its design probably helped."

I murmured to myself while placing gold and silver coins onto the verifier.

Flash, flash, flash.

"Fantasy worlds really are ridiculous. Slap the concept of mana onto anything, and suddenly it makes perfect sense."

I continued checking the coins until the embedded mana stones needed replacing.

"Boss? Why are you suddenly so focused on this coin verifier…?"

Mary, who had been quietly watching me for some time, finally spoke up.

For the record, Chief Te had left early today to go on a date with someone he’d recently started seeing.

"Why am I doing this, you ask?"

"Yes, that’s what I’m asking."

"The Empire’s been too quiet lately."

"…Excuse me?"

"We’ve been making too much money lately. Both the Bishop Company and us."

I gestured toward the gold and silver coins recently sent from the Empire and the Bishop Trading Company.

"But for some reason, it’s eerily quiet."

"!!"

Mary’s expression turned serious at my words.

"So, I thought, what if the Empire had started flooding the North with counterfeit coins? If I were Crown Prince Canbraman, I’d definitely do something like that."

"Indeed, that does sound like something the Empire would do."

Nodding with a look of agreement, Mary seemed to understand my concern.

"And the results?"

"Surprisingly, all the coins are genuine. Even the copper ones."

"Should we consider that a relief?"

"Yes, it’s definitely a relief. If they had sent counterfeit coins, it wouldn’t just hurt us—it’d cause massive damage to the Empire, too."

"The Bishop Trading Company wouldn’t have let it slide in the first place."

"True enough."

"But as you said, it’s strange. The Empire doesn’t seem like the kind to sit idly by while the North prospers…"

"Their silence is unnerving. Truly."

"I agree."

"Let’s keep an eye on things. There’s no point in overthinking something that hasn’t even happened yet."

"Let’s trust in Renslet’s knights and the Frost Blade."

"Yes, we should."

With that, I turned my attention to the map hanging in the office.

The map depicted Arcadia in its entirety, including the North and the Empire.

"Entir is performing better than I expected."

My gaze focused on the central-northern region of the Empire, where we had recently planted a seed.

"The speed at which they copied our factory system is impressive, to say the least."

I was well aware of the steps Entir had taken upon his return to the Empire.

"It’s like the early days of the Industrial Revolution in Europe."

It was essentially the Arad factory system stripped of its welfare benefits.

Naturally, the conditions for a Red Plague to take root had just been sown.

A smirk crept onto my face.

"When I finish writing my book on magical engineering, I might just publish one introducing Earth’s red-tinted ideologies, too."

The thought of spreading a Red Plague through the Empire, using Bishop and the Frost Blade as tools, sent a thrill down my spine.

With the Empire’s higher literacy rates compared to the North, the flames would burn even brighter.

"This is what we call soft power."

Whether it was republicanism, communism, or something else, anything that could destabilize the Empire would serve as the perfect counterbalance.

To me, Entir Bishop was a hidden treasure, a secret weapon.

"Oh, Mary."

I turned to Mary as a thought suddenly struck me.

"The portrait session is scheduled for two days from now."

"…I’m aware."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"No need to stress about it. My conversation with His Grace the Grand Duke went perfectly."

"Thank you."

"?"

She didn’t seem as pleased as I had expected, but I decided to let it go. She must be tired from juggling academy responsibilities and company work.

"Still, it took longer than I thought to arrange the portrait. We first discussed it last summer, didn’t we?"

"Indeed. They could’ve just done it separately…"

"What was that?"

"Ah, nothing! I’m really looking forward to it. Haha…"

"Right?"

The portrait, originally planned for last year, had been delayed so much that it could finally happen this summer.

"Everyone’s been busy."

If it hadn’t been for the Arina’s direct order summoning me, I might have forgotten about it entirely.

"Let’s make use of my MAX-level painting skill for this."

Excitement bubbled within me as I made plans.

"I’ll create oil paints—something this world has never seen—using my MAX-level alchemy skill! Once I paint with them, people’s reactions will be priceless."

The thought of creating something after so long made my fingers itch with anticipation.

"My hands are itching. I should practice before heading to the High Fortress and develop the oil paints."

Though it was a side skill, my MAX-level artistry and craftsmanship were nothing to scoff at.

Lately, though, I hadn’t had a chance to use them, preoccupied with running the company.

"When cameras become a thing, these kinds of joys will fade. I should enjoy this while I can."

Sure, I could create a camera with magical engineering if I wanted to, but where was the romance in that?

"‘A painting by Arad Jin, the genius of the North.’ Now that’s romantic."

Above all, paintings carried far more artistic impact.

"Who knows when I’ll leave this world? But a painting I pour my heart into will remain, telling its story for generations, like Earth’s Mona Lisa."

Cooking, invention, business—and now, artistic achievements.

Earth had its own genius like this: Leonardo da Vinci.

"Will people in this world regard me as a mysterious figure in the distant future? I bet I’ll become a staple on Arcadia’s version of Unsolved Mysteries."

Yes, this was a legacy in the making.