Chapter 132
Thwack!
Her foot struck the rebar.
Muirah’s body soared into the air.
And in that moment, she thought—
She was free.
And it was familiar.
Dozens of meters above ground.
Not trees of great girth, but a building of rebar and cement.
Soaring from the very top of the site, she felt a startlingly familiar sensation.
‘It’s like being back in the forest.’
The Everglow Forest where she had lived all her life.
She had left it less than a month ago.
And yet, she already missed it.
Its scenery, its air, its scent.
Lately, those memories rose to her constantly.
But now?
Now, as she leapt across the top of an apartment construction site?
Her longing for the forest faded astonishingly fast.
Because of that unexpectedly familiar sensation.
‘It’s similar to the forest. The height. The space.’
The rising apartment pillars felt like tree trunks.
The protruding bars of rebar resembled the forest’s branches.
‘Even leaping between them feels the same.’
Tap! Whoosh!
She bounded to the top of the rebar.
Scanning her surroundings as if perched on a branch, she surveyed the site.
Perhaps the other elves felt the same.
Unlike when they were on the ground, their eyes sparkled now.
They moved as if carried on the wind.
No, they flew.
Swish, clank!
The elf rebar workers shifted and tied bars in an instant.
They danced and slid with the wind.
And when moving between floors?
They performed acrobatics.
Whoosh!
Muirah hurled herself outside the building.
Dozens of meters of empty air greeted her.
But she didn’t fall.
She had already marked her landing point.
There was a safety net there.
Clang!
Her feet touched the edge of the net like a feather.
She pushed off, leapt again.
Used the rebound.
In a flash, she entered the floor below.
There she retrieved the tool she had forgotten.
Her return upstairs was just as effortless.
Tap!
She pushed off the net.
Her feet struck the outer wall.
She sprinted along the wall itself, body tilted sideways.
And then reached out.
She gripped the window frame above, flowing inside like the wind.
Without stairs, she had ascended in barely two seconds.
And after finishing such impossible moves, neither she nor the other elves felt anything remarkable.
It was like breathing. Like walking.
Such actions were second nature.
And while moving so, the elf rebar workers performed every construction technique Lloyd had taught them—without a single mistake.
‘Unbelievable. This is way beyond expectations.’
Supervising the site, Lloyd’s mouth hung open.
These elves.
Could it be they were born to be rebar workers?
The thought came naturally.
‘Bringing them was the best idea I ever had.’
At this rate, he could entrust them with the work.
No need for constant supervision.
‘Still, even monkeys fall from trees. Better to stack hay thick below the nets.’
Someone might slip past the nets.
Lloyd decided to prepare extra safety measures.
He left the site and descended to the ground.
In the courtyard below, orc warriors were cheering as they watched.
“Awesome, kweek!”
“Elves are the best, kweek!”
“Climbing that high was too scary for us, kweek!”
“My girlfriend scolded me every night, kweek!”
“My wife scolded me, kweek!”
“My son scolded me, kweek!”
“A liar appears! These guys are all single, kweek!”
…And so on.
Thanks to the elves’ dazzling performance, the orcs were freed from rebar duty. Freed from their fear of heights.
‘And their speed… it’s insane. At this pace, Building 102 can reach the 8th floor before it gets colder.’
Winter was fast approaching.
And that worried Lloyd.
Once temperatures dropped below freezing, cement pouring would be impossible.
‘Because of freezing and thawing.’
[Freezing and thawing]—one of winter construction’s greatest dangers.
‘Concrete uses water. If the temperature falls below zero, the water inside freezes. Before it can dry, moisture crystallizes, ice forms inside.’
If it hardened in that state?
The ice particles would remain as impurities inside.
And when spring thaw came?
The ice would melt, leaving countless pockets of water inside the cured concrete.
‘That’s when construction is ruined. The structure falls far short of design strength. Cracks spread, chunks crumble, rebar rusts, even Pop-Out occurs—fist-sized lumps breaking off the surface.’
It would be a disaster.
A building rendered useless.
And in an apartment meant for thousands?
‘Ugh. The thought alone is horrifying.’
Lloyd shuddered.
But seeing the elves’ pace?
His worries eased.
‘So far, temperatures are still manageable. If we finish 8 floors in days, it’ll be safe.’
With that resolve, he pushed the site forward.
He coaxed, he pressured the elves.
And the 8th floor, once dragging, surged ahead.
In just over a week, even the cement pour was done.
‘Perfect. Absolutely perfect.’
Lloyd felt immense satisfaction.
Before the real cold hit, Building 102 was up.
That meant winter work could focus on insulation and heating for Buildings 101 and 102.
‘101 and 102. They’ll be prototypes. Using their data and experience, come spring we’ll launch the true honeycomb apartment complex starting with 103.’
And so, Lloyd moved to the next task.
The postponed heating system for Building 101.
“So, you’re mixing this precious sap with soybean oil?”
“Yes.”
It was the secret weapon for insulation upgrades.
He poured a bit of Elensia sap into soybean oil.
Javier gave him a dubious look.
As if to ask, “What on earth are you doing?”
Lloyd replied shamelessly.
“Do we have much Elensia sap? Not at all. Too valuable to use raw. No need to anyway.”
“So you’re diluting it?”
“Yes.”
“But why soybean oil?”
“Cheap, easy to get, waterproof.”
And it smelled pleasantly nutty.
He mixed sap and oil.
But the ratio?
1:1? Of course not.
1:10? Also no.
“…Surely you don’t mean to call one drop of sap in a vat of oil ‘mixed,’ do you?”
Javier stared in disbelief.
Naturally.
Lloyd was mixing at nearly 1:99!
But he only shrugged.
“Hey, that’s life. Buy any drink and see. Even 1% concentrate is considered generous.”
It was true.
Check the labels.
Fruit-flavored drinks, jellies—huge names on the package, but less than 1% fruit inside.
As a child, realizing that had been a bitter scratch on his heart.
A scar etched with capitalism’s harsh lesson.
The dirty magic of cost-cutting!
“So this is plenty. I already tested the performance.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. Now take this bucket. And this brush.”
“……”
“Well? Hurry up.”
He dragged Javier to the heating room.
He pointed to the pipes.
“See these? Coat them with the Elensia insulation cream. Now.”
“Strictly speaking, it’s soybean oil cream.”
“Tsk. The 1% is what matters.”
“……”
They coated all the pipes, fanned them dry, wrapped them in hay. Tied them down.
Then tested the performance.
The results were excellent.
“How is it?”
“Hot.”
“Right?”
“Yes.”
The 8th-floor pipes, once lukewarm at best, were now hot as if the heating room was beside them.
‘Perfect. Absolutely perfect.’
The layered insulation, topped with Elensia cream, paid off.
Then—
“Lord Lloyd.”
“Hm?”
Javier called him, his tone unusual.
As if…
“You want to ask me for something.”
“……”
“I knew it. What is it?”
“…How did you know?”
“When you said, ‘Hey, Lloyd,’ just now. You never say that unless you want something.”
“……”
“So? Out with it.”
“It’s about the refugees.”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking—what if we let the sick and disabled move in first?”
He spoke honestly.
There was no special reason.
He had just remembered, while touching the hot pipes, the blind mother and her little son.
Their situation came to mind.
The refugee tents were harsh.
Crude shelters at best.
Hard even for the healthy.
Worse for the sick.
“In those camps, they live exposed, cramped. For patients, an apartment would be far better.”
“Hm.”
Lloyd mulled it over.
It made sense.
“Yeah. Keeping them in tents helps no one.”
“Exactly.”
“Then we’ll start with the 3rd floor down. Easier to climb. Patients first.”
“Excellent idea.”
Building 101 already had basic systems in place.
Heating and interiors were nearly done.
A bit more work on kitchens and baths, and it was livable.
‘And seeing people live there helps me too.’
Designs and real life differed.
Noise, condensation, drafts, light, ventilation—issues arose only after moving in.
If he used patients as beta testers through winter, he could refine the spring designs.
“Let’s put the most disabled on the ground floor.”
And so the first move-in began.
Refugee patients relocated into Building 101.
They wept with joy.
No wonder.
They had lost homes to the monster domino disaster.
Dragged their sick bodies through the refugee trail.
Suffered in miserable tents.
Now, at last, a real home.
Tears of gratitude flowed.
“I don’t know how to repay this blessing… sob…”
The blind mother and her son were among them.
Touching their small apartment, she cried with joy.
And then—
Ding-dong.
A message appeared before Lloyd.
[Monumental Construction Achievement Unlocked]
[You have overseen the first apartment construction and move-in on the Lorasian Continent.]
[The refugees who entered will live with eternal gratitude, becoming the estate’s most loyal residents.]
[You have left a lasting mark in the history of civil engineering on the continent.]
[Your name will be recorded as a pioneer of apartments.]
[As a reward for this monumental achievement, you receive a large RP bonus.]
[You have gained 700 RP.]
[Current RP balance: 4,783]
At last, more RP.
Lloyd smothered the warmth rising in his chest.
He addressed the blind mother flatly.
“Repayment? Just raise your son well.”
When that boy grew, he’d become a worker.
Lloyd would put him to use.
Profit would grow.
His honey jar would overflow.
‘Hah. Think I’m building apartments for free?’
Of course not.
Nothing was free.
Except when he was the one taking.
Even refugees wouldn’t be exempt.
‘Not yet. Once they settle, once they’re strong, I’ll put them to work.’
They would pay their share.
He was sketching this profitable future when someone ran up.
“L-Lord Lloyd!”
A servant from the Baron’s mansion, panting.
“J-just now—!”
“What? Spit it out. Slowly.”
“A royal envoy has arrived!”
“What?”
An envoy?
From the Queen?
The servant nodded vigorously.
“Yes, he awaits you in the mansion.”
“……”
A royal envoy.
Waiting for him.
Lloyd felt a prickling intuition.
‘No way. Could it be…’
He hurried to the mansion.
There, in the garden, chatting with the Baron and his wife, was the envoy.
The same man who had once brought the royal edict after the Gigatitan hunt.
But now, though the envoy was the same, his manner had changed.
“An honor to see you again.”
He bowed politely the moment he saw Lloyd.
Unlike before, when he had spoken down to him.
“……”
Lloyd’s intuition sharpened.
He sensed it clearly.
“Let’s proceed with the formalities.”
“Yes, of course. Ahem!”
The envoy glanced around.
An attendant brought a scroll.
The Queen’s decree.
Lloyd dropped to one knee.
He waited for the reading.
And he knew.
His intuition was right.
That decree held what he expected.
The envoy began to read.
“From times past, I and the sovereigns before me have worked tirelessly for the peace and prosperity of the nobility, citizens, and all people of the kingdom.”
The words continued, predictable.
Duty, ceaseless effort, sorrow at recent disasters, praise for Frontera’s deeds.
On and on.
As he listened, Lloyd’s lips moved silently.
Echoing the words.
Carrying his intuition, his certainty.
And at last, the two voices joined.
The envoy’s proclamation.
Lloyd’s whisper.
“Royal decree: Based on these merits, the Frontera Estate is hereby elevated to a County.”