The Price of Exploitation

For the past few days, Rhine had found himself mercilessly exploited within the confines of Philip’s office.

Working as an unpaid intern, all under the guise of ‘gaining social experience’—who could possibly find joy in such an arrangement?

Wouldn’t you agree, Rhine?

‘I believe this regulation could use some revision. These immature crayfish—we simply need to buy them out at a low acquisition cost. There’s no need to offer extra subsidies to those obstinate villagers; providing them makes it seem as though we owe them something.’

‘That pond just outside Lanburg County’s North Gate? We should outright acquire it under the Cavendish family name. The land gets excellent sunlight, making it perfect for a breeding farm. From now on, we’ll declare Lanburg County’s crayfish the finest in the entire nation, and naturally, the Duke’s family crayfish will be the best of the best. Anyone who dares to contradict us will be stripped bare and hung from the city walls!’

‘Shares? I don’t know much about them, but we only need to control over fifty percent to call the shots. Why even bother with those merchant guilds? Give them a few scraps, and they’ll still be grateful! In a vast empire like the Norman Empire, merchant guilds are plentiful; capital is the one thing we’re never short of. If you don’t invest, plenty of others will! Offering them a chance to scurry over and act as our assistants would be doing them a favor. We won’t even need to hire a single employee; we’re destined to sit in our chairs as bosses, while they are only fit to toil below like beasts of burden. Let them handle all the dirty, arduous labor…’

As a seasoned bourgeois counter-revolutionary, Rhine proved unexpectedly adept, even reveling in the role.

‘Exploiting magical beasts before wasn’t nearly as satisfying! Now, being a boss and exploiting common folk—that’s the real thrill! Exhilarating!’

Carried away by his fervor, Rhine utterly forgot that not a single gold Koller would ever find its way into his own accounts, diligently toiling away as an unwitting laborer, contributing to the Cavendish family’s burgeoning commercial empire.

A soft knock echoed from the office door, causing the three individuals, buried under mountains of paperwork, to exchange bewildered glances, each face implicitly urging another to answer.

‘Who will open it?’

The silence lingered for a beat before Rhine, whose reactions were always a tad delayed, finally realized he was the lowest-ranking person present. This realization was a considerable blow to him, still immersed as he was in his ‘Boss Simulator’ fantasy.

‘The game has been unplugged, how am I supposed to play now?’ Recognizing the harsh reality, he found himself utterly unable to be cheerful, forcing a polite, false smile onto his grim face as he dutifully opened the door.

The two figures standing beyond the threshold made it even harder for him to smile.

‘The petty one, and the petty one’s son. Right, it’s Marin and Daniel.’

“Lord Marin, Young Master Daniel, greetings.”

Indeed, a professional servant who had endured spartan training, Rhine wore an impeccable, professional smile, meticulously calculated down to every muscle fiber.

For some inexplicable reason, Daniel shivered involuntarily upon hearing Rhine’s greeting, his gaze guiltily darting to the side.

Marin, too, offered a faint, unfeeling nod, the scrutinizing intent hidden beneath his cold eyes perfectly clear to Rhine.

He first addressed Daniel:

“I’d like to borrow someone; I trust you won’t mind.”

Daniel did not meet his gaze, his eyes still buried in the documents.

“How could I mind? Isn’t it always like this?”

Daniel’s tone remained refined and polite, yet his politeness was chillingly aloof, sounding like nothing more than a perfunctory show of respect.

“Second Brother,” Philip interjected, “it’s always good to let young people go out and see the world, but there’s something I must say: he is now my daughter’s official servant.”

“I am well aware of such boundaries,” Marin responded.

‘Another conversation where half the words were left unsaid; I swear, this family loves speaking in riddles…’

Marin’s gaze then shifted to Rhine.

“Then, Mr. Rhine, I must trouble you to accompany us on an outing. I have long awaited an opportunity to thank you for your efforts on behalf of my humble son.”

‘He must be referring to the incident where I pushed Daniel so hard he manifested sword qi.’

“It would be disrespectful to refuse,” Rhine replied.

Following Marin out of the ducal estate and into a luxurious magic-powered vehicle, Rhine, ever alert to potential dangers, suddenly recalled Philip’s words to Marin—

‘”He is now my daughter’s official servant.”‘

The implication, he mused, was likely: ‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on Rhine; I am protecting him.’

A faint smirk touched his lips. ‘Hah, what need does the illustrious Green have for such circuitous protection?’

For Rhine, riding in a magic-powered vehicle for the first time, this epoch-making invention naturally sparked a distinct interest.

The era of horse-drawn carriages had long passed; the risks associated with animal-driven transport far outweighed those of well-maintained machinery. Moreover, horsepower was ultimately limited, capable only of pulling wheeled wooden conveyances, and the jarring bumps were unavoidable.

Consequently, when the court alchemists introduced magic-powered vehicles, they were met with widespread acclaim from the nobility. Owning one for personal travel became a definitive symbol of considerable wealth and status.

From the outside, the vehicle resembled an elongated, slightly oversized loaf of bread, yet its interior revealed a surprisingly expansive and exquisite world.

The space rivaled that of a typical bedroom, divided into two compartments, front and back. The interior was adorned in a soft goose-yellow palette, with ancient blue-and-white porcelain from the Eastern lands standing elegantly like beautiful statuettes on either side of the inner doors, showcasing an understated yet profound luxury.

Marin left the two youths in the rear compartment to occupy themselves, while he retired to the front, where he retrieved a bottle of mellow red wine from beneath a seat and poured it into a stemmed glass, sipping it slowly, leaving Rhine and Daniel to sit opposite each other in awkward silence.

Rhine, however, maintained his usual composure; having long been accustomed to solitude, he felt no particular need to initiate conversation.

Daniel, by contrast, was utterly mortified, feigning interest in the scenery outside by pulling back the glass window. His fingertips fidgeted restlessly on the sofa armrest, and his gaze kept darting, consciously or not, towards Rhine.

The magic-powered vehicle offered a remarkably smooth ride, devoid of any jolting, and the engine’s hum was almost imperceptible. This only served to exacerbate the already deafening silence of the atmosphere.

Finally, Daniel, unable to bear the tension any longer, stammered out the first words:

“Rhine, uh, congratulations on becoming my sister’s male servant.”

Realizing his words sounded off, he quickly corrected himself.

“But you’d better watch yourself from now on. I haven’t fully accepted you yet, and if my sister is ever displeased, I’ll come looking for you.”

“Understood, Young Master,” Rhine replied.

Rhine politely closed his eyes as he replied, though inwardly, he rolled his eyes.

Daniel visibly relaxed after receiving the reply, yet his gaze couldn’t help but flit between Rhine’s gentle, beautiful face and his lower body, a look of unspoken words flickering in his eyes.

As the magic-powered vehicle continued its journey, the clamor of voices outside grew increasingly boisterous, suggesting they had entered a public venue.

“We have arrived.”

The vehicle came to a halt, and Marin, having just finished his glass of red wine to the very last drop, emerged from the front compartment to signal for them to alight.

Observe keenly, ponder deeply, discern intentions, and question sparingly—these were the unspoken fundamental tenets of the servant’s profession.

Alighting from the vehicle, Rhine surveyed his surroundings, discovering they had stopped at the main entrance of a colossal, circular arena.

Gladiatorial contests had always been a Norman tradition, legitimate and legal since the nation’s inception. They consistently drew lavish patronage from the powerful elite, while the common populace reveled in the spectacle, making them universally appealing—a favorite form of entertainment alongside theatrical performances.

To call it mere entertainment would be inaccurate. Against the backdrop of the nation’s founding legends, victory and defeat in these contests had become synonymous with honor. Beyond the thousands upon thousands of gold Kollers wagered at the gambling tables, the great noble houses frequently used these events to proclaim their family’s might and assert their status.

Rhine, for his part, naturally scoffed at it all. No matter how the formats or routines changed, it was, at its core, just a spectacle for the common folk. If the performance was good, they cheered and applauded; if not, they threw money and cursed.

Honor? In the face of countless capital investments, the only outcome for nobility was corruption by money. Honor that couldn’t be monetized was merely a delusion for the mediocre. Naturally, fighting styles that drew the biggest crowds were more popular than simple, swift kills. The common folk paid their money, and they expected to be entertained.

No hidden dealings? Rhine wouldn’t believe that for a second.

The group ascended to the arena’s top floor, where an expensive, exclusive skybox awaited them. From this vantage point, they commanded a panoramic view of the entire 8,500-square-meter arena.

“Daniel, prepare yourself. You’re scheduled to enter the arena in half an hour.”

“Yes, Father. I will not disappoint your expectations.”

‘So, Daniel is the one fighting,’ Rhine realized. ‘No wonder they dragged me along.’

It appeared to be a sparring match between noble scions. Wealthy lords typically avoided the blood-stained gold Kollers of public gambling, preferring to hold ‘friendly matches’ in smaller venues.

‘Well, then, I wish you both a pleasant time!’