***

Mikhail and I drafted the final announcement based on the survey results from the territory.

We summoned the village headmen from each village and explained it to them in detail.

“Annual fixed expenditures and additional requests like dam repairs will be covered by the basic budget. However, the distribution of additional funds will be greatly influenced by this competition.”

After assigning them the role of notifying their villages, I had the servants who conducted the survey perform a second round of promotion.

“Question and answer session over! Everyone, travel safely.”

“Yes, My Lady!”

I thought everything was proceeding smoothly until the competition’s launch, but…

“…Mikhail. What exactly am I looking at here?”

“The preliminary application list, My Lady.”

On the third day of accepting preliminary applications for document screening,

I checked the list and closed my eyes tightly before opening them again.

But nothing had changed.

“Why on earth are there so many applicants?!”

I thought each village would submit maybe ten teams at most, since everyone would be busy making a living.

“…At this rate, did the servants we sent for promotion force each household to submit an application?”

I clearly instructed them before sending them to the villages that the number of applications wasn’t important, and that selected projects wouldn’t receive prize money for the teams, but…

‘Even after filtering out all the absurd flattering proposals like building a harem for the lord or erecting a statue of me in the town square…’

There were still too many that seemed solid and meaningful.

“Why are they so enthusiastic about submitting projects that are 100% for public benefit…”

“Since no lord in history has ever attempted something like this, it’s only natural that the territory residents’ response would be more passionate than expected. They would have applied even without prize money.”

Mikhail implied that ‘like lord, like people,’ but I couldn’t understand it.

‘What kind of civic consciousness is this…’

I held my head in my hands as I looked at the preliminary application list of over 200 teams with blurry eyes.

Even assuming that far fewer teams would actually prepare and come to present…

“…At this rate, all that awaits us is a future of overwork.”

“……”

“Don’t accept it so easily!”

I shouted in frustration, standing up and banging my desk.

Overwork? Absurd! Why did I start this in the first place?

‘…Wait a minute. That’s right.’

As I blinked in a frozen state, Mikhail observed me.

“My Lady?”

…Yes, there’s a way to avoid being buried even if work rains down from the sky.

“Mikhail.”

I looked at Mikhail with a subtle smile.

“Do you remember the purpose of this participatory budget competition?”

“Isn’t it to allow territory residents to participate directly in the territory’s development regardless of social status?”

“No, Mikhail. You’ve already lost sight of our original purpose… We had a more fundamental purpose than that.”

After I spoke firmly and shook my head, Mikhail’s brows narrowed slightly.

Seeing that he was pondering what the other answer might be, I provided the correct one.

“The true essence of this competition was ‘efficiently passing our work onto others’!”

If work pours down, all we need to do is recruit people to act as shields in our place.

That’s why we brought in territory residents and servants.

Hearing my reminder of our original purpose, Mikhail also seemed to recall it well.

“…Ah, yes. That’s right. I momentarily forgot.”

Though his eyes turned salty, I paid no mind and clapped once before speaking in a refreshing voice.

“Now, let’s revive our original purpose! From now on, let’s capture—no, bring in experts who will work in our place.”

“…Did you just say ‘sl*ves’ a moment ago?”

He asked suspiciously, but I denied it with a bright smile.

“Haha, of course not. We’re paying them to work, how could that be slavery?”

Despite my clean denial, Mikhail looked at me as if I were an evil employer.

‘But he’s not opposing the idea.’

Therefore, you’re an accomplice too.

“Let’s see—Richard promised to send people for military matters… I should also ask the Rabius Merchant Guild to dispatch some of their spare personnel.”

As I hummed happily at the thought of delegating tasks to the right people, Mikhail let out a faint sigh.

“…I’ll also send a letter to the professors at the Imperial Academy’s Public Administration Department. It’s a place with a high percentage of talented graduates from commoner backgrounds, which will be helpful for this project.”

“Remember how we set aside a generous budget for personnel costs? Tell them that while there’s a lot of work, they’ll be paid well for it. Make sure to include the phrase ‘first in the Empire’ to entice them!”

And so, Mikhail and I began writing letters requesting sl*ve summons—no, talent recommendation letters.

***

Rainfeld, Rabius Merchant Guild Central Headquarters.

The guild master, Ubert Viscus, was a symbol of meritocracy who had risen from a street vendor to the head of a major guild in just 25 years.

Despite countless hardships and adversities, he had never fled and had always held his ground. He secretly took pride in his abundant golden hair, but now he couldn’t even do that.

Every time Ubert ran his hand through his hair, a few strands of straw-like golden hair fell helplessly.

“…Are you alright?”

When Kutema, his bodyguard and direct secretary, asked, Ubert shook his head with a worried expression.

“No, I’m not.”

What caused stress-induced hair loss for this guild master, who had been through thick and thin, wasn’t an issue with the guild’s sales. Sales were more stable than ever.

The culprit was a single elegant letter from a southern rural territory called Basium.

「 To Rabius Guild Master Ubert Viscus 」

「 From Basium Lord Callia Rabius 」

Ubert looked at the sender and recipient names on the envelope once, and then at the brief and direct request in the letter’s main text once more with gloomy eyes.

“…Kutema, which department are the employees who used to exclusively handle orders from Lady Rabius before she went south?”

Ubert briefly hoped that employees with such strong mental fortitude might be able to overcome this challenge, but…

“They’re no longer with us. They all resigned due to work-related stress.”

“…D*mn it.”

Ubert couldn’t blame them.

He had once scolded them for not being able to please the direct line of the ducal family, which was the foundation of the guild.

But after repeated requests for job transfers, he had finally experienced the task himself.

“You. When you go back, tell the guild master. I don’t have a hobby of choosing gold pigs and teacups.”

“…I am the guild master.”

“Really? It seems the guild doesn’t look at faces when hiring people.”

At that time, Lady Rabius had cursed at him with a genuinely puzzled expression.

If the young duke hadn’t hurriedly intervened when he came to greet the guild master, Ubert might not be here now after enduring an hour of verbal *buse.

‘I should be nice to the young duke. Although he recently made an unreasonable request to establish a northern branch of the Rabius Guild…’

Since the guild had grown in size and was engaging in charitable activities for image management, he could consider it part of that.

Whatever it was, it was nothing compared to this letter.

“…I’d rather she make unreasonable demands like before, asking us to acquire ridiculously rare luxury items that already have owners…”

But.

“Our headquarters staff is absolutely off-limits…!”

How had the Rabius Merchant Guild grown to be second to none in central Hessen?

The previous Duke Rabius, who first started the guild business, valued talent above all else.

As a result of pursuing such thorough meritocracy, they gained an advantage in competition with other prominent guilds in the central region. Even commoners like Ubert with no connections could prove their abilities and become guild masters.

That’s why Ubert never hired even entry-level employees carelessly. He could proudly say that the guild’s greatest asset was its employees.

‘And now she’s asking me to hand over these employees who are as precious as blood.’

No matter how much the lady had publicly apologized a few months ago, people don’t change that easily.

After all, he had heard news that she had grabbed some noble lady’s hair in the south and rumors that she had nearly gotten into a physical fight with her former fiancé, Duke Schwerin.

“…Kutema. Please prepare for a visit to the Rabius ducal residence.”

Ubert decided to place his hope in Duke Rabius, who was quite flexible for a nobleman.

However.

“You must not know how kind Callia has become these days. Would you believe that child even wrote a letter worrying about her parents?”

Seeing Duke Rabius pull out a handkerchief to wipe his tears as he became overwhelmed with emotion while speaking, Ubert’s face turned ashen.

But the duke, seemingly unconcerned, earnestly entreated Ubert.

“She’s admirably trying to be a good lord and run her territory well. The Rabius Guild isn’t some small shop, and you have many employees. Send her a few capable ones.”

‘I should have never come!’

Ubert left the reception room, swallowing his tears.

Given what the duke had said, he couldn’t just send anyone carelessly now.

As he walked out with heavy, listless steps, Kutema, who had assessed the situation, tactfully kept quiet.

In the carriage returning to the guild headquarters, filled with gloomy silence,

Ubert, after sighing deeply enough to sink to the ground, said to his secretary.

“…Kutema, please prepare for a business trip to Basium.”

“…Understood. I’ve left my will in the third drawer of my desk.”

Ubert’s eyes widened at the sudden mention of a will.

“What? Are you having a hard time lately? What will? Are you saying you don’t want to go?”

“How could that be? I wrote my will to keep my pledge to work at the risk of my life. Even if this task is my last… I will do my best.”

At that resolute voice, Ubert clutched his head with an exasperated expression.

“What? Do you think I would send you alone into that pit?”

“…Pardon? Surely not…”

“Yes. I will go with the guild employees and somehow try to persuade the lord.”

He could no longer sacrifice the guild’s precious human resources to the tyranny of an immature lord.

T/n: Callia is referred to as “영주” in the original text, which means “lord” or “territorial lord.” So, I used that instead of Lady.