Chapter 199
Hi everyone! The main story of Greatest Estate Developer has officially concluded, but don't worry—Side Stories will be released next week. As promised, I'll also be reposting the earlier chapters starting from Chapter 1, though they won't follow a fixed schedule. Thank you all so much for your amazing support! I hope you'll continue supporting me, especially with my upcoming translation projects.
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Crinkle! Rustle!
Lloyd’s hands moved like he was possessed.
Clothes, gloves, boots, hoods—everything got shoved into the backpack.
Food sacks and water bottles were lined up and crammed in next.
Not a single word left his mouth.
As if speaking itself was a waste.
As if even one second was too precious to spend on anything but getting out.
He packed with blind, fierce momentum.
“……What are you doing?”
One of the special envoy’s attendants finally crept over and asked.
Only then did Lloyd lift his head and glance at him.
“As you can see, I’m packing.”
“Packing? For what?”
“For a midnight escape.”
“Midnight… escape?”
“Yes.”
Crinkle. Rustle.
The moment he finished answering, Lloyd’s hands sped up again.
The laughter and celebration in the guesthouse reception room began drifting toward Lloyd’s door. One by one, eyes turned to the side room where he was moving like a man about to flee a crime scene.
“A midnight escape… what does that mean, Young Master Frontera?”
Count Ventura came over at last, unable to ignore it anymore.
Lloyd glanced at him with a bitter smile.
“It means exactly what it sounds like. Does ‘midnight escape’ need an explanation?”
“You mean you’re running away. From here. Tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because a reason just showed up.”
Even as he spoke, Lloyd didn’t stop.
He packed grain oil for sun protection, a thick blanket for the brutal night cold, and kept talking like he was reading off a checklist.
“You told everyone the results of the negotiations, right? That they went unbelievably well.”
“I did.”
“That’s why.”
Lloyd’s voice stayed calm, but his hands looked desperate.
“The Sultan acknowledged responsibility for the Monster Domino Effect. He accepted the compensation we demanded. And he even agreed to an additional non-recurrence agreement.”
“Of course. What’s the issue?”
“It’s an issue—for me.”
Lloyd’s bitter smile deepened.
“This Sultan isn’t generous. And he’s not stupid. So if he accepted all those unusually favorable terms, he’s obviously aiming for something.”
Count Ventura’s expression stiffened.
“Are you saying what he’s aiming for is… you?”
“Yes. You might not believe it.”
“No. I’ll believe it. Go on.”
Ventura’s eyes sharpened.
By now, he had no choice but to acknowledge Lloyd’s ability.
Without Lloyd, the negotiations wouldn’t have happened at all.
Today’s outcome would’ve been impossible.
If Lloyd was warning him, it wasn’t something he could laugh off.
“I’ll believe you even if others don’t,” Ventura said. “Tell me.”
“Thank you.”
Lloyd exhaled, still packing.
“This is just my gut feeling, but… the Sultan is trying to tie me down.”
“Tie you down?”
“He wants me as his son-in-law.”
“……Huh?”
“It’s true. He even assigned one of his daughters as my escort when I went to the Kandahar Region.”
Ventura blinked.
“That happened?”
“Yes. It was personal. Not something to announce publicly, so I didn’t mention it.”
“I see… so you think he accepted all those conditions just to take you as his son-in-law?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Why would he go that far?”
“To put on a show.”
“A show?”
Lloyd nodded, the bitterness on his lips turning sharp.
“He wants to prove—through these negotiations—that he’s broad-minded and virtuous as a Monarch. And if I’m right…”
“If you’re right?”
“He’ll summon me to the palace the moment day breaks tomorrow.”
Ventura frowned.
“For what? To show off his ‘virtue’?”
“Partly. And then he’ll assign me a new task.”
“A task? And if you refuse?”
“He’ll pressure me by saying he’ll overturn the results of today’s negotiations.”
Ventura’s mustache twitched.
“To overturn a diplomatic agreement just to get one person… does he really covet you that much?”
“It sounds ridiculous coming out of my own mouth,” Lloyd said flatly. “But the more I think about it, the more it feels real.”
His smile turned into something close to despair.
Because the Sultan he’d met so far made this kind of madness believable.
“That old man pretends to be dignified, but he’s obsessed,” Lloyd muttered.
Even yesterday, Lloyd had come to report the Qanat’s completion, and the Sultan had practically drooled over him.
And now the Sultan had handed out a negotiation result that was basically a giveaway?
Lloyd couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow morning he’d be summoned—and squeezed.
That the Sultan would use the negotiation concessions as leverage.
To force Lloyd into a new task.
And if Lloyd refused, the Sultan would tear up the agreement.
Worse, he’d twist it so the blame fell on Lloyd.
Then what?
“I’ll be forced to accept, even if I’m dying inside,” Lloyd said. “Because that’s how peace holds. Because I can’t let Frontera get dragged into a war.”
Once he got caught in that trap—
“It’s quicksand,” he said. “It won’t end with one task. One turns into two, two turns into three. And he’ll keep me here forever.”
At that point, it was over.
He’d be stuck.
He’d be harassed by constant recruitment attempts.
And if he stayed long enough, he might even start to rationalize it.
Living somewhere for years always does that.
“It’s a crazy prediction,” Lloyd admitted. “It’s just a hunch. But those hunches are annoyingly accurate.”
A hunch trained by real life.
Back when he’d been barely scraping by in cheap rooms, there were months he couldn’t pay on time because his daily wages were delayed.
And when you’re late, you learn fast.
You learn to read people.
To notice tone shifts.
To sense who’s nearby before you step into a hallway.
Especially when you’re headed for a shared bathroom.
Or boiling ramen in a communal kitchen.
If you ran into the manager, you got interrogated on the spot.
And then you begged—wearing the most pathetic expression you could summon—just to buy a few days.
That cockroach instinct, sharpened by too many close calls, was screaming at him now.
‘Ugh. I hate this.’
Lloyd shuddered as he pictured the future.
He shook off the goosebumps and spoke fast.
“That’s why. If the other side is going to play recklessly, then I’ll respond the same way—using the fastest, simplest, most efficient method.”
“……So you’re running away tonight.”
“Yes. My business here is finished anyway. If my prediction is wrong and the Sultan doesn’t come looking for me, I lose nothing.”
That was true.
Escape covered both outcomes.
Either he dodged the trap—or nothing happened and he went home early.
“So, Count. I need you to grant me one request.”
Thud.
Lloyd slung the packed backpack over his shoulder and turned around, smiling.
Ventura found himself nodding without realizing it.
♣
The next morning.
Ventura, Count of Magentano, was summoned by the Sultan at daybreak.
Or rather—
He went in place of Lloyd, the man the Sultan had summoned.
“Special envoy Count Ventura. Why have you come here instead of the one I called for?”
The black marble floor of the royal chamber gleamed under the light.
The Sultan’s voice dropped onto it—heavy with suspicion and displeasure.
Ventura swallowed.
And thought:
‘Was that young man’s prediction true?’
Lloyd had said the Sultan would summon him in the morning.
And here it was.
Which meant—
His prediction was correct.
‘He really is sharp.’
A bitter smile tugged at Ventura’s mouth.
And he recalled Lloyd’s request right before the midnight escape.
“The reason I have come in response to the Sultan’s call is not so grand.”
“Not so grand? Then speak.”
“Yes, Sultan. Lloyd Frontera, whom Your Majesty summoned this morning, has urgently returned to his home country.”
“……What?”
The Sultan paused.
Ventura continued, steady and respectful.
“To be honest, Lloyd Frontera has contracted a severe endemic disease. It appears he has been away from his homeland too long. We judged that he urgently required recuperation, and sent him back immediately.”
“……You’re really going to use ‘recuperation’ as an excuse.”
“Unfortunately, it is the truth.”
“Do you think I would believe that?”
“It is truly unfortunate, but—”
“That’s enough. Enough.”
The Sultan waved a hand, cutting him off.
A bitter smile already sat on the desert ruler’s lips.
‘Lloyd Frontera… did he see through me?’
Regret rose hot.
He had accepted most of Magentano’s demands on purpose.
He’d intended to use that as justification to assign Lloyd a new task.
To squeeze him by threatening to overturn the negotiations if he refused.
To bind him here.
To make him his—by force if necessary.
‘Just from the result of yesterday’s negotiations, he read my intent. And he dared to flee in the middle of the night under the pretext of illness.’
What a cockroach-like bastard.
The thought was infuriating.
And yet—
He had to admit it.
‘I lost.’
Because what could he do now?
Summon a subject of another country who had “fallen ill” and fled?
He could take extreme measures.
Issue an arrest order throughout the country.
But that would make him look like a tyrant dragging back a sick man.
And if he then tried to assign a task using the negotiations as leverage?
His intentions would be painfully obvious.
Worse, Lloyd’s position would be ruined.
If Lloyd accepted under that pressure, it would look to the world like he was abandoning Magentano.
In other words, it was a terrible move for both of them.
‘Ha.’
One simple midnight escape.
And Lloyd had stripped the plan of all justification.
He had erased the leverage cleanly.
Created a situation where the Sultan couldn’t catch him—even if he wanted to.
A situation where catching him had no meaning.
‘Is there any reason I wouldn’t covet him?’
The Sultan let out a hollow laugh.
He gestured for Ventura to withdraw.
Left alone on the throne, he sank into thought.
‘I’ll let you go this time. But don’t think you can reject me forever.’
Lloyd Frontera.
Someday, he would make him his.
Whether as a son-in-law, or as power beside the crown prince.
He would use that arrogant man’s abilities to lay a foundation that could support the kingdom for a thousand years.
The Sultan vowed it again and again.
But at that moment, there was one fact he didn’t know.
While he burned with ambition to recruit Lloyd—
While he vowed to claim him—
One of the most promising talents had already slipped beyond his reach.
No.
She had set off on a long journey to meet Lloyd.
The Sultan would only learn the next day.
“……What? Scheherazade? She’s disappeared?”
The most promising child among his children.
The daughter expected to become a Swordmaster someday.
As he read the letter Scheherazade had left behind, the Sultan grabbed the back of his neck without realizing it.
Let’s gooo