Chapter 139

‘Shaaaaa!’

A torrential downpour.

Countless raindrops drenched the eastern mountain range.

The water gathered along slopes and valleys, flowing down toward the lowlands—toward the Frontera County.

And then, the flowing stream met the terraced farmlands.

‘Gushhh!’

It was water that had run down the same natural slopes for thousands, even tens of thousands of years.

But this time was different.

The hand of man had reshaped the land.

The terraces blocked its path.

Water pooled in the spaces meant to become paddies and fields.

It seeped into the gaps between the retaining walls and cut slopes.

And then it streamed out through the gabion walls.

‘Good!’

Lloyd walked through the rain, inspecting the site over and over.

Each time, he activated the [Surveying] skill’s underground scanning option.

He observed the drainage within the backfilled sections behind the gabion walls in real time.

The results were outstanding.

‘Drainage? Perfect. No soil movement, no leaning, no subsidence. Damn, I really made this.’

Even as he confirmed it with his own eyes, he couldn’t help but feel proud.

If one of his professors back at his university in Korea saw this—what would they say?

He’d probably get every compliment imaginable and be dragged into grad school with an A+ explosion.

‘…Let’s not think about that nightmare.’

He quickly shook his head, brushing off the thought.

Now was no time for that.

The monsoon season had arrived.

And nothing could test a retaining wall’s limits like heavy rain.

So throughout the rainy season, Lloyd inspected and diagnosed every single wall.

Not one collapsed or showed signs of failure.

It was flawless construction—through and through.

‘Alright, time for the next step.’

He immediately tightened the reins on his plan.

Building the terraces wasn’t the end of it.

Now came the distribution—allocating the farmland to the people.

“So, I’ll need you to sign off on all of these.”

“All of… these?”

‘Thud!’

Lloyd dropped a towering stack of documents onto the desk.

The desk groaned under the weight.

Count Frontera flinched and instinctively leaned back.

He looked up, wondering if the pile actually touched the ceiling.

“What exactly is all this?”

“Contracts and attendance records, Father.”

“Contracts? Attendance… what?”

“To explain a bit more—it’s a compilation of the names of all the refugee laborers who voluntarily participated in the terrace wall construction, along with their daily attendance records.”

“…”

“Every morning when they arrived. During their morning and afternoon breaks. At lunch. And again when they clocked out at the end of the day—they stamped their seal each time. Every single one of them.”

“W–Why?”

“To ensure meticulous management. And to prevent proxy attendance.”

“Proxy attendance?”

“People pretending to have worked when they haven’t. With this many workers, such things can happen if management’s lax—especially since they can earn farmland based on their labor hours.”

Lloyd shrugged.

It was true.

From the start, everyone had signed a contract.

The terms were simple: those who worked hard would be rewarded with farmland.

So he encouraged them to work as much as their stamina allowed.

‘But not everyone’s that honest.’

There were always freeloaders—people who schemed to reap the benefits without effort.

Lloyd had seen plenty of them before.

“So I made sure to manage the attendance records carefully—to make proxy check-ins nearly impossible. Hence… all this paperwork.”

“Then… I have to sign all of these?”

“Just your signature, Father.”

“…”

“Sir Asrahan and Sir Bayern already verified everything. We’ve sorted them by total work hours.”

“…”

“We didn’t sleep for three days to finish it all. Compared to that, signing these should be easy.”

“…”

Signing all that might break his wrist.

But the Count didn’t refuse.

He knew better than anyone how tirelessly his son had led the construction all winter.

‘That’s right… I hardly even saw him at meals lately.’

He had worried Lloyd was overworking himself—afraid he’d collapse from exhaustion or illness.

He wanted to help somehow, but there was little he could do.

So he’d spent the winter supporting Lloyd in spirit—managing the refugee camps and ensuring nothing hindered his plans.

That much, at least, he could do as a father.

And that feeling hadn’t changed.

“You’re right. You’ve worked hard for this. If I can’t even help with a few signatures, what kind of father would I be?”

“Haha, exactly, right?”

“Of course.”

“So if you could finish them all by tonight, that’d be perfect.”

“…What?”

“Thanks in advance, Father.”

‘Bang!’

With that, Lloyd slipped out of the office before his father could respond.

The Count was left staring blankly at the mountain of papers.

‘Creaaak—’

Only the desk leg’s faint groan broke the silence.

That night, the servants of the Frontera mansion went to sleep listening to the Count muttering in pain, clutching his throbbing right wrist.

♣

Everything proceeded smoothly.

Thanks to the Count’s sacrificed wrist joints, the land distribution process advanced rapidly.

“Alright, total work hours… oh, impressive—you’re in the upper ranks!”

“A–Ah, yes.”

“That means you get a good pick. Let’s see here.”

‘Rustle!’

Lloyd spread a large map across the table.

It showed the newly completed terraced farmland in full.

He pointed to several plots.

“These here, here, and here—they’re not too high up, so commuting will be easy. Drainage is excellent, and the layout’s nice and rectangular—perfect for planting, fertilizing, and harvesting.”

“Then… I’ll take this one.”

“That one? Great. Here’s your contract—you remember how to sign it, right?”

“Of course. Thank you!”

…And so it went.

Lloyd reviewed the labor records for every refugee worker and distributed farmland accordingly—based strictly on their contribution and hours worked.

‘That’s only fair.’

Those who worked hard got the best plots.

Those who slacked off got smaller, uneven patches.

A few grumbled—but they were a minority.

Even those assigned to less desirable land accepted the results.

Because the records were airtight.

And because Lloyd’s presence had become untouchable.

‘He’s beyond us. Not just highborn—on a different level entirely.’

That was the image refugees now held of him.

So even if they didn’t get prime land—

They accepted it quietly.

If ‘he’ said so, it must be right.

After all, just being given land to live and farm on, when they’d once been homeless—was already a tremendous blessing.

And so, after several days of contract signings—

a series of satisfying notifications appeared before Lloyd’s eyes.

‘Ding!’

[The distribution of Frontera County’s terraced farmland is complete.]

[You have become the first on the continent to successfully implement the MSE-style reinforced retaining wall method in real construction. This historic achievement will forever be recorded in the annals of Lorasia’s civil engineering.]

[You are now ranked among the top ten civil engineers in continental history.]

[Countless future engineering students will curse your name as their exam syllabus expands.]

[As a bonus for your achievement, you have been awarded a large amount of RP.]

[You have gained 800 RP.]

[Current RP balance: 4,070]

‘Yes!’

Lloyd clenched his fist.

Being remembered in history and all that—who cared.

What truly thrilled him was the massive RP reward.

‘Eight hundred RP. That covers the premium random summon I used for Ggoming.’

It didn’t quite make up for the earlier triple failure streak, but it was more than satisfying.

And the rewards didn’t stop there.

‘Ding!’

Another chime.

More messages rolled in.

[You have not only aided countless refugees but also successfully led a great project enabling their independence and settlement.]

[Thousands of refugees are sending you fervent praise.]

[A new Title has been created: <Leader of the Weary>.]

[Leader of the Weary]

[Title Grade: Regional Legacy]

They had lost their homes.

Their food.

Even the warmth of a campfire.

They wandered endlessly.

Believing it was all over.

They wept, their sighs unending.

They crawled, soothing hungry infants.

They searched for a place to die.

Believing there was no paradise left—

no place even to rest their bodies.

They gave up, despairing completely.

Until they met him.

And finally realized—

that even when they had given up on themselves,

someone still reached out a hand.

[Title Effect: Refugees who have settled in Frontera County now genuinely revere you. Out of gratitude, they will cultivate the land with all their might. For the next 30 years, the harvest success rate of the eastern mountain terraced farmland increases by 300%, and total yield increases by 200%.]

[Title Region: Frontera County]

[Title Duration: 30 years]

[The title’s effect applies continuously within the designated region and duration. It may expand or contract depending on your future actions.]

[CP generated monthly by this title: 3]

[Current CP: 108]

‘Wow.’

Lloyd’s grin stretched to his ears.

‘Now ‘this’ is what I call a bonus!’

Triple harvest rate. Double yield.

His mind raced.

‘So, even if the harvest fails, I still get double yield? For 30 years? Considering how vast the farmland is…’

This was huge.

Almost as large as the Marez reclamation site—and now its productivity had doubled overnight.

And if they got lucky with good weather?

‘That’s six times the yield.’

A jackpot.

It was like a salary worker earning 3 million won suddenly receiving 6 million every month—for 30 years straight.

‘Glorious!’

One less worry.

With this much yield, the refugees would be self-sufficient.

And his workload just got lighter.

‘Even with royal supplies, things were tight. But from next year on, no more food shortages. No more expansion projects either!’

He had originally planned to expand further to reduce dependence on the capital’s supplies.

But with this new title reward—

there was no need.

Less work.

A step closer to his dream honey life.

‘Ahhh, heaven!’

He threw himself onto the bed, flailing his arms and legs in joy.

No one was watching—so who cared.

After a long while, he caught his breath and stared at the ceiling.

The joy faded, replaced by calm.

And with that calm came one thought.

‘Time for a mid-check.’

He wanted to assess whether everything was still on track—
whether continuing as-is would cause no problems.

‘I’ve been getting this weird uneasy feeling lately.’

He couldn’t explain it.

Just a vague sense of unease.

Maybe it was nerves. Maybe stress.

But Lloyd shook his head.

‘No… if I look closely, the situation isn’t as perfect as it seems. There’s risk hiding everywhere.’

On the surface, everything looked fine.

The refugee housing was complete. The terraced fields were thriving.

And now, with this title, productivity was off the charts.

Everything looked ideal.

But what if something went wrong?

If an unexpected problem arose—

‘The refugees’ settlement or the farmland operation could collapse.’

That would deal a serious blow to the territory.

In the worst case, the county itself could fall apart.

‘Because the population grew too fast.’

A bigger territory meant more risk if things went sideways.

‘If it collapses, I’m the one who’ll suffer. I’ll spend my whole life cleaning up the mess. That uneasy feeling—I can’t ignore it.’

That gut feeling.

It rarely proved wrong.

‘Gut instinct… it’s basically life’s accumulated big data—every screw-up, every disaster layered over the years like Cambrian strata. You can’t just ignore that.’

So, after some thought, Lloyd made a decision.

‘Time to use it again—[Ending Spoiler].’

He had plenty of CP saved anyway.

He opened his skill window and selected it.

‘Ding.’

[Skill: Ending Spoiler]

[Skill Rank: ???]

[Required CP: 40 (Second Use)]

[Consumes CP to let you glimpse part of the grand finale of the current story. The ending may be happy… or tragic.]

The cost had doubled since the first time.

But Lloyd didn’t hesitate.

He clicked [Execute].

[Use skill: Ending Spoiler?]

[Current CP: 108]

[YES / NO]

‘Of course, YES.’

[Skill Activated: Ending Spoiler]

[40 CP consumed]

[Current CP: 68]

The moment he confirmed—

‘Zzzzzzt…!’

Time began to slow.

The late afternoon sunlight froze mid-descent.

The dust motes dancing in the air stopped.

Everything was suspended, as if pinned in place.

Then, five steps ahead, space rippled.

A round, blue portal opened—its interior glowing milky white.

He’d seen this before.

Lloyd stayed calm and stepped forward.

He reached into the light.

‘Ripple… Flash!’

A burst of radiance.

A dizzying wave.

And at the edge of it—Lloyd slowly opened his eyes.

The final scene of the story currently unfolding—

the secret ending—came into view.

And in that instant—

‘What the…’

Lloyd’s eyes went wide in shock.