The Greatest Estate Developer - Chapter 58: The Devil’s Contract (3)

“Of course, you’ll need to pay a hefty monthly water tax.”

‘Thud!’

The Viscount’s heart sank.

He couldn’t quite grasp why, but a sense of foreboding washed over him.

He didn’t even understand what “water tax” meant.

Even so, he instinctively knew—this wasn’t good. Anxiety began creeping up on him, and an ominous sense of having been caught in a trap took hold.

Summoning his courage, the Viscount asked, “Uh, sorry, but… what exactly is this water tax?”

“Oh, it’s your first time hearing about it? It’s simple. It’s the tax you pay for using clean water supplied by the waterworks.”

“So… a fee for using water?”

“Exactly. You catch on quickly.”

“You’re saying you’re taxing water?”

“Yes.”

Lloyd smiled innocently, as if surprised by such an obvious question.

“From the intake facility, through clean pipelines, and all the way to the estate’s reservoir, we provide a reliable supply of the highest-quality water you can trust. Crystal-clear water for grandpa to drink, grandma to wash her face, mom and dad to cook soup, and kids to splash around in. Doesn’t that sound thrilling just thinking about it?”

“…”

The Viscount had no response.

Lloyd chuckled softly.

Of course.

It would be thrilling.

His heart was likely racing in a triple axel rhythm from the shock of such an unheard-of concept as taxing water.

‘You’ve messed with the wrong person.’

A wicked grin tugged at Lloyd’s lips.

He suddenly recalled the early days of planning the waterworks.

It must’ve been that day when he and Javier had climbed the eastern mountain range for surveying.

At first, he’d been preoccupied with simply overcoming the crisis threatening the Viscounty. He reasoned that even if the project required a hefty investment, establishing a stable water supply system wouldn’t be a loss in the long run.

But in truth, he had been furious.

Building the waterworks was exhilarating—truly satisfying.

Yet, just surviving the crisis wasn’t enough to soothe the bitterness festering in his chest.

‘I had to give you a taste of your own medicine, no matter what.’

The Viscount in front of him had once committed heinous acts, demanding the Marez Swamp reclamation lands be handed over.

He’d even dumped toxic waste into the river.

When confronted, he’d arrogantly told Lloyd to do as he pleased. He had even gone as far as to threaten Lloyd, saying the toxic dumping wouldn’t stop unless half the Marez reclamation land was surrendered.

It wasn’t just rude or unreasonable—it was outright tyranny.

‘I lost sleep over it back then.’

Whenever Lloyd closed his eyes, all he could see were piles of gold coins.

Even while he paid off the interest with the profits from the heated floor rooms he sold one by one, he had managed to save scraps of money by sheer willpower.

‘And then, out of nowhere, I had to pour all those hard-earned funds into cleaning up your mess.’

Lloyd’s gaze turned icy as his anger resurfaced.

Perhaps it was that lingering grudge that had fueled him.

That day, during the survey trip with Javier, they’d stumbled upon a limestone bedrock halfway up the mountain. He’d clenched his fists without realizing it.

‘This is it!’ he had thought, practically cheering inside.

The partially exposed limestone bedrock.

A broad valley with a steady stream of water.

When he realized this was the upstream of the Frona River, which flowed through both the Viscount’s and his territories, calculations exploded in his mind.

Everything clicked into place instantly.

Originally, the plan was just to construct a waterworks system.

But in that moment, the scheme to teach the Viscount a lesson was born.

‘It started then.’

Lloyd redefined the nature of the waterworks project.

It wasn’t just for the estate’s development.

It was a secret weapon—an offensive measure against the Viscount.

That’s why.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be a shortage of water. You see, from the very beginning, I calculated the exact volume needed for your dye workshops and designed the intake facility and pipeline accordingly.”

Yes, everything had gone according to plan.

“We’ve even mapped out the route for the pipeline to your dye workshops. The terrain there is remarkably stable. The gentle slope makes it easy to regulate the water flow inside the pipes.”

“What… what are you saying?”

“It means the surveying and design work is already complete. Once you give the green light, we can start construction tomorrow. Within about two weeks, your dye workshop will have crystal-clear water.”

Lloyd’s smile brimmed with confidence.

Truthfully, this was the exact reaction he’d been longing to see. The Viscount’s trembling face made the effort worthwhile.

“So, think carefully. I trust you’ll consider your position. Surely, you don’t think charging for water is unreasonable?”

“That’s…”

“Yes, I understand. It’s a foreign concept and might feel a bit uncomfortable. But if you refuse, your dye workshop and all Lacona’s specialty goods will be utterly ruined.”

“…”

The Viscount’s hands shook uncontrollably.

The more he quivered, the more relaxed Lloyd appeared.

Watching this, Javier unconsciously clenched his fists.

‘Terrifying.’

Javier brushed off the goosebumps on his arm.

His lord, Lloyd Frontera.

Javier had always known his master was petty and vindictive, but this?

‘I never imagined he’d come up with something like this.’

Even when they finished the waterworks project, or when Lloyd suddenly announced they’d be “collecting payments,” Javier hadn’t suspected this outcome.

Descending the mountain, accompanying Lloyd to the Viscount’s mansion, and even submitting the ridiculous audience request—all of it had baffled him.

‘I thought Lloyd was simply venting his frustrations.’

That’s why he’d tried to stop him.

“This isn’t rational behavior,” Javier had argued.

“Letting your emotions dictate your actions will only lead to more conflict.”

He had tried to dissuade Lloyd. He truly had.

But now, Javier admitted to himself, ‘I was wrong.’

There was no denying it anymore. The young master he served was…

‘Utterly, meticulously petty. To the point where the Viscount, as detestable as he is, almost feels pitiable.’

That was his honest opinion.

As impressive as Lloyd was, the Viscount’s plight was pitiful in equal measure.

Javier had no love for Viscount Lacona. After all, he was the one who had oppressed the Frontera Viscounty.

And yet, Javier now found himself feeling sorry for the man. Genuinely sorry. He looked so miserable, helpless, and downright pathetic that Javier couldn’t help but pity him.

The Viscount was trembling—not just his hands but even his lips and eyebrows quivered. He looked like an ant caught in a pit of despair. His hopelessness was palpable.

‘There’s no way out. None at all.’

To think that Lloyd had been this calculating. To imagine that he would use such methods to apply pressure. Not even in his wildest dreams had the Viscount foreseen this.

A waterworks system? Clean water from faraway sources? Calculating the exact water volume needed for the dye workshops in advance?

‘This bastard planned from the start to choke me dry.’

The Viscount’s gaze shifted to Lloyd, who was still smiling. That smug, youthful grin. But he no longer looked like some greenhorn. The more the Viscount looked at him, the more a chill ran down his spine.

‘Why, oh why, did I ever mess with someone like him?’

If he could turn back time, even just a few months, he’d slap himself for summoning the dye workshop supervisor and ordering him to dump waste into the river.

But it was too late now.

Time could not be reversed, and there was only one way to salvage the dye workshop.

“…Fine. I understand,” the Viscount finally said with a heavy sigh, nodding in defeat.

Lloyd’s lips curled into a subtle smirk.

“‘Understand,’ as in…?”

“I’ll accept your proposal.”

“You’re saying you’ll have the waterworks installed for the dye workshop?”

“…Yes.”

“You’ve made a wise decision.”

‘Fwoosh!’

Even before the Viscount finished speaking, Lloyd moved. From inside his coat, he pulled out a tightly rolled document and spread it open on the table with a flourish.

The Viscount’s eyes wavered.

“What is this?”

“What else? The water supply contract.”

“…”

The Viscount was at a loss for words. What kind of person prepares a contract in advance for a meeting like this? The reality hit him hard. This man was prepared to drain him dry, down to his bones.

‘Unbelievable…’

With resignation, the Viscount’s eyes scanned the contract as if he were reading a declaration of surrender.

Partway through, his eyes widened in shock.

“What is… this?”

“What are you referring to?”

“This section right here.”

The Viscount’s trembling finger pointed to a line detailing the monthly water tax he would owe to the Frontera family.

“Isn’t this a mistake? Surely, there’s an error in the numbers…”

“Oh? Does it seem like there’s an extra zero or two?”

“Yes! It must have been written incorrectly, because this…”

“It’s correct.”

“…”

“The amount stated in the contract is accurate.”

“What…”

“Do you find it expensive?”

“Of course, it’s…”

The Viscount couldn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his eyes darted back to the contract. The amount listed under “Water Tax” was absurd—completely unrealistic.

‘This is just water.’

The very idea of pricing water was shocking enough. But the amount listed? It was as if someone had slapped him awake, repeatedly, with a thousand rounds of reality.

Lloyd, clearly unimpressed, shot him a condescending look.

“Honestly. Do you still think water is free?”

“…”

“You think just because it flows naturally down rivers, you can use it as much as you want? But don’t forget—you were the one who taught my people the true value of water.”

The Viscount’s face darkened as the memory of his toxic waste dumping incident resurfaced.

Lloyd continued, “Thanks to you, everyone in my territory learned a harsh lesson. Water isn’t free. It’s a resource that can be destroyed at any time. Sometimes, it takes a heavy cost to restore it.”

This was true.

To secure even a sip of clean water, the people of the Barony had rolled up their sleeves. Children had hauled stones to build a temporary reservoir. Entire construction crews had abandoned their heated floor projects to climb the eastern mountains.

It had taken countless hours of labor—cutting bamboo, shoveling dirt, constructing aqueducts—for the Barony to finally restore its clean water supply.

That bitter lesson: water isn’t always free.

Now, it was the Viscount’s turn to learn.

“So tell me. Why do you think this price is too high? Have you considered the effort it takes to bring clean water here?”

“…”

“Do you think designing and installing pipelines is an easy job? It takes immense skill and labor. And what happens after installation? Who handles maintenance?”

“Well, that would…”

“Yes. My family does. The Frontera family. We’ll monitor for leaks, manage sediment at the intake facility, and replace worn-out pipes. Do you think that’s child’s play? And yet, you still think the water tax is too expensive?”

“That’s not what I…”

“Then don’t drink it.”

‘Fwoosh.’

Lloyd snatched the contract off the table and rolled it up.

In an instant, the contract was tightly rolled up in Lloyd’s hands and was on its way back to his coat pocket.

“W-Wait a moment!”

The Viscount reacted instinctively, grabbing Lloyd’s wrist as he was about to tuck the contract away.

Realizing his own desperate action, the Viscount let out an awkward laugh.

“Ah, haha…”

Lloyd gave him a fresh, bright smile in return.

“Have you had a change of heart?”

“It seems I have.”

“Excellent. A wise decision.”

With a flourish, Lloyd unrolled the contract and placed it back on the table.

“No need for lengthy explanations. Just sign here, here, and here on both copies.”

The Viscount picked up the pen, his face etched with gloom as he dipped it into the ink. He knew—beyond any doubt—that there was no alternative left.

With a deep sigh, he began signing.

As the Viscount scrawled his name across the contract, Lloyd’s grin grew wider and more triumphant.

‘It’s done. I’m finally free from the usurers and their interest payments.’

He clenched his fist tightly.

The thought of the Baron’s debts resurfaced—those massive interest payments they had been forced to make each month. But from this point on, those payments would be someone else’s problem.

The reason was simple.

The water tax amount stipulated in this contract? It matched the monthly interest payments the Frontera family had been paying to the usurers.

In other words, from now on, the Viscount would be covering their interest payments.

A future with zero interest worries.

Now, Lloyd could channel every saved coin directly into repaying the principal debt.

‘Honestly, I wanted to just swallow up the entire dye workshop or even take their techniques.’

But Lloyd shook his head at the thought.

‘The Viscount would never have accepted that.’

It was obvious. Not only would the Viscount have refused, but such demands could have provoked fierce resistance.

‘In the worst-case scenario, the Viscount might bypass the aristocratic courts and appeal directly to the Queen.’

There was a stark difference between demanding a reasonable water tax to restore the river’s purity and outright seizing the dye workshop. The former could be seen as a fair deal, while the latter would be regarded as blatant extortion.

‘Trying to grab too much could lead to scandal, or worse, disfavor from the Queen herself. Politically and practically, this is the perfect balance. Besides, we’ll still be neighbors to the Viscount’s territory moving forward.’

The reality was not a land-grab game like in ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms.’

Securing an enormous water tax was more than enough. Installing an “extra-large straw” into the Viscount’s finances to siphon funds for years to come was the most sensible and advantageous outcome Lloyd could imagine.

“Phew. Is this the last place to sign?”

The Viscount pointed to the final signature line.

It was indeed the last step to finalize the contract.

Just as Lloyd was about to reply—

“Wait a moment, my lord!”

‘Bang!’

The reception room’s doors burst open with a loud crash.

Through the now-open doorway strode a sturdy-looking man, his face filled with righteous fury.

“My lord, you must not pay such a water tax to this scoundrel! Please stop signing that unjust contract and drive this dishonorable wretch out of here!”

His deep voice boomed, his black beard quivering with rage. Though not very tall, his build was solid and imposing.

This was Sir Curno, the senior knight of the Viscount’s estate.

Pointing an accusatory finger at Lloyd, Sir Curno declared, “Lloyd Frontera! Do you truly think you can humiliate my lord like this and get away unscathed?”

It was a dramatic and unexpected interruption.

Just as the contract was about to be signed, Sir Curno had thrown a wrench into the proceedings.

Lloyd turned his gaze toward the knight with a gentle, almost affectionate look.

Then, with utmost sincerity, he responded to Sir Curno’s outburst:

“Yes.”

At the same time, he thought, ‘Ah, I’ve always found this guy annoying.’

But Lloyd had to admit, ‘How thoughtful of him to come here personally and plead for me to teach him a lesson.’

Lloyd’s smile deepened, brimming with satisfaction and amusement as he watched Sir Curno.