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The Alchemist Association's quote for the Robe of Kitsune landed in my inbox: 5,000 mana crystals. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the number.
That was effectively 4.5 million gold coins—a price they probably thought was fair given the rarity of the item. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling I was being taken advantage of.
If only I'd bothered hiring a proper negotiator. Someone who could handle situations like this. But, as always, hindsight wasn't helping.
After some deliberation, I finally sent my reply:
"Sure, I'll prepare the mana crystals tomorrow. Next time you have antiques, let me know."
Short and to the point. This way, I wouldn't look too desperate—or too easy to deal with.
With that settled, I logged off.
The knock came earlier than expected. When I called for them to enter, Rem stepped in, carrying a neat stack of papers.
"Here's the draft report for the Mana Crystal Colosseum, my lord," she said, placing it on my desk.
I flipped through the pages, surprised by the level of detail. Not only had Rem sourced the finest materials, but she'd also hired dwarves to lead the construction. Those short-statured artisans were renowned for their impeccable craftsmanship, and hiring them was an excellent move.
The estimated cost? 1 million mana crystals.
I smirked. She truly understood me. Spending absurd amounts of resources on extravagant projects was becoming a tradition here.
Still, my gaze lingered on her a bit longer than necessary. I appreciated her dedication—and, if I were honest, her appearance. Rem was a rare mix of competence and beauty.
"Uh, my lord?" she asked, breaking the silence.
Clearing my throat, I pointed to a section of the report. "Accommodate the dwarves for now. Construction starts next week. Daily shipments of 75,000 mana crystals should suffice."
Her eyes widened in shock. "Seventy-five thousand? A day?"
"Yes," I said, waving off her shocked expression. "Don't worry about the funding. I'll handle it."
Though still nervous, she nodded and excused herself.
Once she left, I leaned back in my chair again, chuckling to myself. Managing this kingdom was almost too easy when everyone else was doing the actual work.
The next day, my mana crystal reserves reached a neat 256,199—a number that brought me no small satisfaction.
I messaged the Alchemist Association:
"I have 6,000 mana crystals, prepare the Kitsune Robe, and 1 million gold coins."
It didn't take long for them to reply. They agreed immediately, and the trade concluded swiftly.
My inventory now included:
• 250,199 mana crystals
• 1,035,500 gold coins
• The Robe of Kitsune
The Robe of Kitsune looked unassuming—like something a wandering merchant might wear. To the average observer, it showed no signs of magic. But I knew better.
Sliding it on, I activated its unique ability: creating a clone.
It was unnerving at first, seeing a perfect replica of myself standing there. But the implications of the robe's effect were clear. If my clone perished, I'd revive safely in my original body.
The cooldown of three days didn't even matter. This item was a literal second life.
I had the clone lie down on my bed, its breathing even and steady, while I stepped out of the room.
"Let's take this for a spin," I muttered.
With the robe's effect in play, I felt invincible. It was the perfect time to see Lucia again.
Not that I wanted to overwhelm her with another stack of gold. Instead, I wanted to discuss the kingdom's progress—and perhaps gauge her thoughts on the tenth wall expansion plan I'd been mulling over.
On my way, I thought about how absurdly efficient my team had become. Between Rem's handling of the colosseum, Barn's endless alchemical research, and now Hailey Bae's management of trade routes, I was barely needed.
All I really did was count my money and approve absurd projects. Not that I was complaining.
Before I could make it to Lucia's office, however, she came to me.
Her knock was timid, and when I called for her to enter, she hesitated in the doorway.
"Lucia," I said, motioning for her to sit.
She obeyed, though the nervousness in her posture was painfully obvious.
"What brings you here? Need more funding?" I asked, half-joking.
"No, my lord. We already talked about this.," she blurted out. "We have… too much."
I blinked, tears seemed to roll out her eyes.. But now I'm curious how the road paved in gold looked like.
She continued, her voice rising in exasperation. "We've already paved roads with gold coins. We've funded every conceivable project. Even the dwarves are overpaid! At this rate, we'll destabilize the market."
Leaning back, I considered her words. It was true I'd been pumping resources into the economy at an alarming rate. Inflation was inevitable, and unchecked spending could lead to problems down the line.
Still, I wasn't about to admit fault.
"Make sure the construction of the walls aren't left unattended. I'll need 10 layer of protection. We have a clear threat looming, a million troops invasion."
Lucia nodded, clearly overwhelmed but unwilling to argue.
"And one more thing," I added. "Make sure the colosseum project gets everything it needs. We start in a week."
She nodded again, then hurriedly excused herself.
Left alone, I returned to my musings. Between the Mana Crystal Colosseum, the Robe of Kitsune, and the kingdom's expanding trade routes, I was shaping a legacy unlike any other.
Sure, my methods were unconventional—reckless, even. But wasn't that what made ruling fun?
As I reclined in my chair, a smirk spread across my face. The future was bright, and I had mana crystals to burn.
For now, I'd let my subjects handle the hard work. After all, what's the point of being a lord if you can't relax while everyone else scurries around?
This kingdom was mine, and I would see it flourish—not because of tradition or duty, but because I could.
The Robe of Kitsune pulsed faintly as if echoing my thoughts. With this artifact in my possession, I felt untouchable.
Smiling to myself, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, I could rest easy. My clone had it covered.