Cordel McNeill’s face had gone deathly pale.
He had shattered a treasure meant for the Emperor.
He had no choice but to believe it.
A country bumpkin from the capital like him had probably never even seen proper porcelain before.
The moment he spotted a monster in the warehouse, he drew his sword and swung.
Naturally, what Cordel smashed was just ordinary tableware.
As if anyone would leave truly valuable items lying around like that.
Yet he couldn’t even muster a shred of doubt.
Thanks to the full-powered acting performance from me and Steward Miller Xavierre.
“Listen, Sir McNeill.”
“Y-Yes?”
“You’ve been investigating every corner so thoroughly, yet you know nothing about the Earth God Adam? A being who even testified in court.”
“That is…”
“Think logically. What kind of monster just kneads clay in a warehouse when prey is everywhere?”
Cordel lowered his head in deep shame.
Even after all the commotion, Adam was still just standing there, staring blankly.
If he meant harm, he would have acted long ago.
And then, with perfect timing, Adam spoke casually.
―Hey, boss. At this rate we’ll miss the delivery deadline. I’d appreciate it if you kept that in mind.
“Of course. It’ll be hard, but please remake them.”
―Sure thing. Tch tch! Some naked thunder-bastard barged in and…
Adam caught on fast.
He instantly understood his role from our exaggerated performance.
I placed a hand on Cordel’s shoulder and tilted my head toward the door.
“Let’s talk outside. We shouldn’t disturb our artisan’s work.”
“Yes, understood.”
Cordel’s shoulders slumped as we left.
Our eyes met for a moment; Miller and I exchanged meaningful smiles.
***
Cordel McNeill’s eccentric behavior stopped that very day.
He completely ceased rummaging through the mansion.
One threat of a civil lawsuit was all it took to turn him perfectly obedient.
But he still stuck to me like glue.
“There should be some blank paper around here… where did I put it?”
Swish.
As I muttered and looked around, a yellow sheet suddenly appeared in front of my eyes.
A single piece of paper held out to me.
When I turned, Cordel emerged from the shadows.
“You scared the hell out of me! Turn on a damn light when you come in!”
“What is a ‘light’?”
“It’s a thing! Ugh, I can’t even beat you up properly.”
I honestly had no choice but to be startled.
An arm, head, and part of a torso had suddenly materialized out of thin air.
The rest of him was wrapped in some kind of aura that erased all presence.
What kind of knight is this? He’s an assassin.
I let out a long sigh and shook my head.
The close protection was nerve-wracking, but there was no solution.
He operated solely on the Emperor’s orders.
In the end, I had to adapt.
“By the way, I feel like I’m forgetting something…”
“Just name it and I’ll retrieve it immediately.”
“How would someone who doesn’t even know what trials I’ve handled be useful?”
“I am surprisingly capable.”
“Never mind. It’s not that difficult.”
Cordel McNeill was a Black Agent of the Imperial Guard Knights.
A special operative trained not only as a knight but in espionage as well.
Think of an insanely strong spy.
A butcher knife when all I needed was a paring knife; completely unnecessary for this task.
It was simply about deciding what to do with a certain prisoner.
Where did I stash the doppelgänger again? Oh, right; Adam’s warehouse.
Steward Miller Xavierre had splendidly renovated the pottery workshop.
It was comfortable enough for a few workers to live pleasantly.
The doppelgänger was spending his days there in constant terror.
Surprisingly, Adam’s very presence was torturous to monsters.
Just being nearby caused excruciating pain.
I can’t keep him buried there forever.
It was time to put him to use.
Why keep a freeloader who only ate?
Better to let him rot in prison if that was the case.
I headed straight to the pottery workshop.
Sure enough, the doppelgänger was suffering intense mental agony.
“Urrgh! Please let me stay somewhere else! I feel like I’m dying!”
“You’re still alive. And it’s just cohabitation; isn’t this reaction a bit much?”
“If that one would just stop using his power!”
“Ah, so that’s the cause.”
Every time Adam shaped pottery, the doppelgänger writhed in agony.
He might not be a real god, but he certainly had god-like abilities in that regard.
Anyway, this place is perfect for controlling him.
No need for guards; just leave him with Adam.
But in this state, I couldn’t use him at all.
“First, I need to know what you’re good at. What can you do?”
“Transformation.”
“Skip the obvious. I recently learned a new technique; you might become my test subject.”
“Guhk!”
He clamped both hands over his mouth, then frantically rolled his eyes.
Desperate to prove his usefulness.
Quick-witted; I’ll give him that.
The doppelgänger snapped his fingers.
“With illusion and transformation, I can peek into the target’s memories. I have quite a lot of indirect experience.”
“And?”
“I’m confident in making anything! I’ve transformed into dwarf craftsmen and elf tailors before!”
“You can copy skills too?”
“Of course it’s not perfect; a bit rough. But I adapt quickly.”
“List them. Everything you can make.”
The doppelgänger eagerly drew pictures in the dirt and explained.
Nearly every tool and garment used by humans.
Crafting them was his specialty.
Not bad.
I needed artisans anyway.
I had been planning to make clothes.
Starting with replacing these ridiculous robes.
The clothing here was terribly uncomfortable; baggy, dripping with gaudy ornaments, and the trousers were skin-tight leggings.
If I could just wear a proper suit, I’d die happy.
If he was telling the truth, he could whip up whatever I wanted.
I planned to work him hard for the next thirty years.
“I’ll set up a proper workshop for you, so prepare perfectly.”
“T-Then the distance from that one…?”
“I’ll keep you somewhat apart; can’t interfere with work. But your lodging remains here.”
“Huh?”
“Adam doesn’t shape pottery at night, does he?”
The doppelgänger’s briefly brightened face darkened again.
The realization that he would live with Adam for years to come was bleak.
But what could he do?
He was a convicted criminal.
“Don’t forget you’re serving a sentence. At least you’re not in a hellish prison; be grateful.”
“O-Of course.”
“By the way, what’s your real name?”
“I’ve never thought about having one.”
“Make one up. You won’t be transforming here, so you need a real name.”
“Understood.”
The doppelgänger fell into deep thought.
It would be used for at least thirty years, so he was choosing carefully.
Then he spoke with determination.
“Tersendioth Luvrovianth.”
“It means ‘being of many talents’ in the ancient tongue.”
This bastard’s greatest talent seemed to be earning a beating.
Angering someone with a single sentence.
I pulled out my gavel.
The now-pale doppelgänger hurriedly changed it.
“J-Just Theo is fine!”
“You’re quick-witted; why do you keep crossing the line?”
“GRRK!”
Suppressing my rising anger, I pointed at the drawings on the floor.
“Start with these, these, and this. Ask the steward for materials.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You’d better pour your soul into it. If I don’t like it, you really will become my test subject.”
“O-Of course!”
Theo bowed deeply and waited silently as I passed.
The doppelgänger’s treatment was settled.
Now it was time to deal with the mansion’s backlog.
I should visit the textile factory.
I had started the project but hadn’t checked on it lately.
Too busy.
Still, the stewards were working hard; there should be some results.
I headed straight to the textile factory.
“Oh! The exterior looks pretty decent.”
“The head steward put a lot of effort into it. Ah, this place is now called Midias.”
“So it finally has a name.”
Land granted by the Emperor.
Formerly the border between Brayden and Titus counties.
It had been practically abandoned.
Being a border made any business difficult; the other side could always object.
But now it was officially mine.
A building rising proudly in the middle of a vast plain.
Surrounded by walls, it even looked a bit like a fortress.
“Is production in full swing right now?”
“You should be able to see the current status yourself.”
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, sir.”
I entered the textile factory with Butler Tobias Wilkin.
We stopped briefly at the gate for identity check, but passed quickly.
The owner’s face was the best pass.
“His Highness has arrived! Everyone pay your respects!”
“Ahh! Duke Carius!”
The workers stopped what they were doing and prostrated themselves fully on the floor.
Not the formal bow for nobility or royalty.
Every single one performed it with reverence.
Pure, heartfelt greeting.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
The voice of the man at the very front was thick with emotion.
His rough face felt somehow familiar.
I recognized him immediately.
“Ah, Paul from the Parbiant Farm assault case.”
“That you remember someone as lowly as me… I don’t know where to put myself.”
“Is there nobility or lowliness in recognizing a person? I simply remember.”
“Sniff… Your Highness…”
I hadn’t intended it, but Paul was genuinely moved.
A grown man was shedding tears like chicken droppings.
“Most high-born people pretend not to know even for the sake of face, but Your Highness is truly different.”
“No need for such words. Anyway, everyone please rise. I’d like to tour the factory.”
“Yes, yes! I will guide you.”
Paul wiped his tears roughly and followed with a joyful expression.
He answered every question promptly.
“How much is the daily output?”
“It depends on how much fiber comes in, but usually around 20 bolts.”
One bolt was roughly 16 meters long and 30 centimeters wide.
Judging by the tight weave, quality wasn’t bad either.
But the output felt far too low.
“With this many people, that’s really all you can make?”
“Pardon? That’s actually quite a respectable speed.”
From Paul’s reaction, they clearly weren’t slacking.
Then why was production below expectations?
Inefficiency. That’s what’s happening.
Ah, finally the time had come.
To teach them what real workplace life was.
I looked around the room and gave a meaningful smile.