Chapter 109

The risk of problems increases when there are many people. It’s only natural that more issues arise with a crowd than with just a few. Thus, rulers are required to have control. In ruling, what’s expected of a ruler is the ability to manage subordinates and appropriately place people where they’re needed. The key is ensuring discontent doesn’t lead to blades pointed at me—and I plan to handle that with money. While I vaguely know fear-based governance is supposedly the most efficient, there’s quite a bit about directly practicing it that gives me pause.

Killing someone as an example or instilling overwhelming fear so commands are followed—such medieval barbarism feels excessive even for me. Though treating everyone perfectly respectfully given the era’s nature isn’t realistic, extreme fear isn’t the answer either. I’m starting to understand why finding a balance is important. Alternating between the stick and the carrot seems like it might work well.

It felt a little strange using an animal-training metaphor, but in this medieval context, treating everyone as fully mature individuals isn’t feasible. Maintaining a compromise is crucial, and this is the process of finding that balance.

“Will this work?”

“Yes.”

First, prioritize construction. The first thing to build will be the Spirit Valley Pagoda—an intended wonder from before. With all these people contributing labor, finally starting feels much less daunting. As long as I provide the materials, everything should proceed smoothly.

Using blue holograms to carve and piece together the structure, everyone was amazed by this unfamiliar architectural method. But due to the atmosphere where questions aren’t easily asked to superiors, I didn’t need to explain anything, and things moved along quietly. If pressed, I would’ve just said “magic,” but they didn’t ask at all—surprisingly convenient for me. Their compliance without resistance or suspicion was a welcome advantage.

If this succeeds, I’ll keep building wonders. Since they provide permanent buffs, the more we have, the better for the village. Benefits apply to everyone, not just me, so having more wonders is always good despite their resource-intensive nature.

I won’t just have them build wonders endlessly; there are plenty of structures the village needs, so personnel are allocated accordingly. First, homes for the new arrivals. Barracks and guard posts for training soldiers and guards. A blacksmith for smelting ores. Public baths for hygiene. We also need to expand water supply facilities.

There’s more to do than expected. Once greed kicks in, every missing thing in the village becomes a problem. Those who remain content are Anne and Evangelin, Jack, spirits, fairies, and Suri. Compared to them, everything else seems lacking.

Greed is scary—it’s a monster that never knows satisfaction. Someday, one must accept limitations and compromises.

Right now, while enthusiasm drives progress, it’s not entirely bad. After drawing up the architectural designs in blue light and assigning people, the remaining tasks involve securing manpower for mine work and village defense. Seven villagers already work in the mines, so I added seven more for two-shift rotations. This already yields decent resources, and if it falls short, I can always step in or hire more help.

Most importantly, we need to train troops to defend the village. Given the Valley of Starwind game’s mechanics, protecting and developing the village isn’t something I’ve ever considered before.

Still, rushing unprepared isn’t wise when precious things to protect keep increasing. Strengthening defenses and maintaining order during my absence is essential.

So, fifteen troops for village security. Since royal guards already rotate at the entrance, I didn’t recruit too many. Besides, more recruits don’t necessarily mean better results.

The issue lies in education. How exactly does one train effective soldiers?

This is why schools and teachers are necessary. My own knowledge is too instinctive and impromptu to teach effectively. Combat skills, specialized for battle, differ from those needed for guarding or maintaining order. While some crossover benefits exist, teaching people requires a different approach. Thus, equipping them and teaching basic combat movements became the conclusion.

Now I understand why war drains funds so quickly. Troops trained with time and money are essentially wasted in explosive bursts.

War feels like the ultimate dopamine rush for gambling addicts. It’s almost as if the phrase “win and pay back” originated here.

Still, peace is best.

“Minho!”

A distant voice calls out, carried on the wind—a golden-toned sound, clear and cheerful. Turning toward it, I see her—golden hair flowing, bounding happily toward me. Without slowing down, Anne dramatically leaps into my arms.

“I’ve been looking for you!”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Hehe, there’s always a way.”

Her grin, full of roundness and bubbling anticipation, lights up as she places a finger to her lips.

“Oh, by the way, do you have any spare dye?”

“Dye?”

“Yeah! I want to dye clothes, but there aren’t enough colors.”

“Let me check…”

I open the system shop, a habit ingrained whenever I need supplies instead of going through merchants. Most things in this world seem to appear in the system anyway.

Sure enough, a rainbow array of dyes sat neatly in the store, purchasable with a simple tap—convenient indeed.

“What colors do you need?”

“All of them!”

“All?”

“Yeah, the more, the better.”

With that, I grab all the dyes available in the system. Money? Irrelevant. This is why I earn it.

They say one defining feature of the wealthy versus regular folks is not just earning but spending wisely. Though not born rich, standing where I can afford such extravagance means I shouldn’t hesitate. Especially not when it’s for Anne.

Back home, the fairies peek out at us, still awaiting clothes. Some already received outfits.

Slowly, our house is becoming a fairy hideout—but I don’t mind. Constant work isn’t sustainable, and relaxation is necessary. Plus, the fairies work tirelessly in farming, far surpassing even two skilled humans, so trusting them is inevitable.

“Hey! Me too, clothes!”

“Clothes!”

“Me too!”

As soon as Anne arrives, the fairies spring up, fluttering their wings and flying around excitedly. Their vibrant hues paint the sky like autumn leaves, a dazzling rainbow spectacle.

“Quiet! Shh. Be noisy, and I won’t make any!”

“Got it!”

“Mm-hmm!”

Though they may not understand the words, tone and gestures convey plenty. Covering their mouths with both hands while glancing around cutely, their antics are adorable. Controlling unruly creatures with clothing—who knew Anne had such managerial talent?

Or maybe it stems from her expertise in clothes.

“Well, here you go. Silver leaf, your color is yellow.”

“Woo! I got clothes!”

The fairy jumps joyfully across the small table, glowing with pride. Others watch enviously, mouths agape.

“Anne, you’re really good at making tiny clothes?”

“Of course! It’s mandatory!”

“Mandatory?”

The necessity feels intriguing. Was there such a pressing reason?

“Yes… someday…”

Anne excels at sparking curiosity, dragging out sentences to draw attention. Whether instinctive or learned, it works—naturally focusing everyone on her.

“Yes… someday?”

“When our baby is born, I want to dress them in clothes I made.”

She smiles mischievously while sticking out her tongue, and I laugh, pulling her into a hug. Her thoughtfulness is commendable, touching areas I hadn’t yet considered.

A baby…

That’s right.

Thinking about it, I’m the husband of two women and destined to become a father.

“Aww, cute. Are you practicing on the fairies?”

“Yep. Just wait. I’ll make the prettiest baby clothes in the world!”

“I’ll cheer you on.”

“Of course! Naturally!”

Anne’s confident charisma makes the fairies shrink slightly. Unable to interpret human language, loud voices intimidate them. Yet, they behave differently with her—the creator of their clothes. There’s a unique dynamic there.

Ah, babies…

It stirs unexpected emotions. They say parents can’t prepare perfectly, and that’s exactly right. Reflecting on whether I’m ready to welcome a child…

I fall short.

It’s a difficult question—taking responsibility for life, especially one carrying my blood.

“We need to expand the house.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Keep making clothes—they’re lovely.”

“Okay!”

We’ll need a nursery and likely more. Time to consider expanding the house.

It’s a bit awkward entrusting personal spaces to others. Being private territory, slowly building it myself during free time is ideal.

And so, another ordinary autumn day passes.