Winter sunlight filtered through the crystal windows of the Lord's Mansion.
Outside, Frostbound Coast continued moving.
Workers constructed roads.
Merchants transported goods.
Researchers tested new inventions.
Ships departed from harbors.
Knights patrolled settlements.
Students attended newly established institutes.
The entire territory seemed alive.
Like a giant machine that had finally awakened after centuries of slumber.
Yet within his office...
Kel Rosenfeld frowned.
Not because something had gone wrong.
But because things had gone too well.
His golden eyes moved across dozens of reports spread across his desk.
Infrastructure reports.
Military reports.
Trade reports.
Education reports.
Ocean development reports.
Agricultural reports.
Department reports.
Settlement reports.
Research reports.
There were too many.
Far too many.
Kel rubbed his forehead.
For perhaps the first time in months.
A rare expression appeared.
Annoyance.
Not toward the reports.
Toward inefficiency.
Because every department was functioning correctly.
Every department was sending reports.
Every department was doing its job.
Which meant—
Every department wanted his attention.
A ruler's greatest enemy was not rebellion.
Not monsters.
Not enemies.
It was time.
And currently...
His time was being devoured.
The fireplace crackled softly.
Several wolf cubs slept nearby.
Though calling them cubs was becoming increasingly inaccurate.
They had grown significantly.
One occupied an entire couch.
Another slept beside the fireplace.
A third had somehow claimed ownership of a rug.
Kel decided not to argue.
It would be pointless.
His gaze returned to the reports.
Then suddenly—
A realization appeared.
Simple.
Elegant.
Obvious.
The best solutions usually were.
"Administration."
The word escaped softly.
The room became quiet.
Kel's fingers began moving.
Fresh parchment appeared.
Ink flowed.
Ideas rapidly transformed into structure.
A new department.
One above all departments.
Not controlling them.
Coordinating them.
Connecting them.
The Administrative Department.
A central pillar.
A central nervous system.
A department responsible for monitoring every other department.
Receiving reports.
Organizing information.
Prioritizing issues.
Managing communications.
Handling emergencies.
Preparing summaries.
Filtering unnecessary details.
Only forwarding important matters.
A faint smile appeared.
The more he wrote.
The more the design made sense.
If something happened in agriculture—
Administration would know.
If something happened in infrastructure—
Administration would know.
If something happened in trade—
Administration would know.
If something happened in monster management—
Administration would know.
Everything would pass through one central point.
One central authority.
One central system.
And most importantly—
If Kel left.
The territory would continue functioning.
The thought lingered.
Only eight months remained before Aetherial Institute.
Sooner or later he would depart.
The territory could not become dependent upon his presence.
It had to survive without him.
Grow without him.
Develop without him.
That was the purpose of a proper system.
His pen continued moving.
Authority structures.
Emergency powers.
Reporting chains.
Succession protocols.
Temporary governance procedures.
Everything.
Nothing was overlooked.
Then—
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Kel paused.
"Enter."
The door slowly opened.
Head Maid Eleanor entered.
And immediately—
Kel frowned.
Not because of what she said.
Because of how she looked.
The woman remained composed.
Professional.
Elegant.
As always.
Yet signs of exhaustion were visible.
Small signs.
Tiny signs.
Signs most people would never notice.
But Kel noticed.
The slightly slower movements.
The faint shadows beneath her eyes.
The subtle tension hidden within her shoulders.
The barely noticeable fatigue in her expression.
She was exhausted.
"My Lord."
Eleanor bowed.
Kel quietly observed her.
Then set down his pen.
"What happened?"
The Head Maid blinked.
The question surprised her.
"My Lord?"
Kel leaned back.
"Eleanor."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"How many hours have you slept recently?"
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
The type of silence that immediately revealed guilt.
Several seconds passed.
Then Eleanor adjusted her glasses.
"My Lord, there are more important matters—"
"How many?"
Another pause.
"...Four."
Kel's expression darkened.
"Per night?"
The Head Maid remained silent.
Which answered everything.
A sigh escaped him.
Not anger.
Concern.
Then Eleanor quickly changed the subject.
"My Lord."
She produced several documents.
"Representatives continue arriving."
Kel accepted them.
Then raised an eyebrow.
Mage Tower.
Merchant Confederation.
Imperial Research Association.
Northern Trade Alliance.
Multiple noble houses.
Several alchemical organizations.
Engineering guilds.
Military contractors.
Academies.
Scholars.
Investors.
And many more.
The list continued.
And continued.
And continued.
Kel finally looked up.
"...How many?"
Eleanor hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"Approximately three hundred."
Silence.
Even the wolf near the fireplace seemed concerned.
Kel slowly lowered the documents.
Then looked toward Eleanor.
Then toward the stack.
Then back toward Eleanor.
"You handled all of this?"
The Head Maid nodded.
"As much as possible."
The young Count stared.
Then laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Rare.
Unexpected.
The Head Maid looked confused.
"My Lord?"
Kel shook his head.
"You are absurd."
Eleanor blinked.
Several times.
Then Kel stood.
Walked around the desk.
And approached her.
The Head Maid instinctively straightened.
The young Count spoke calmly.
"Rest."
The woman froze.
"My Lord—"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Silence.
Kel's voice softened slightly.
A rare occurrence.
"You've carried too much."
The Head Maid looked genuinely surprised.
Because nobody had ever said that before.
Not in years.
Perhaps not ever.
Kel continued.
"If you need resources."
"Ask."
"If you need personnel."
"Ask."
"If you need support."
"Ask."
His golden eyes met hers.
"You don't need permission."
The room became silent.
Even the fireplace seemed quieter.
For a brief moment—
The ever-perfect Eleanor Ashcroft looked vulnerable.
Just for a moment.
Then she lowered her head.
"...Thank you, My Lord."
Kel nodded.
Then returned to his desk.
"Eleanor."
"Yes?"
The young Count casually picked up another report.
Then spoke words that would soon shock half the territory.
"Inform them."
"The representatives?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Tell them I'm available."
The Head Maid blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"My Lord..."
She genuinely looked stunned.
"You wish to meet them?"
Kel nodded.
"One at a time."
The Head Maid stared.
Then looked toward the mountains of requests.
Then toward Kel.
Then toward the requests again.
For months.
Nobody could find the Count.
Now suddenly—
He was willing to meet everyone.
The implications were enormous.
"My Lord..."
Eleanor carefully asked.
"Are you certain?"
Kel smiled faintly.
Then pointed toward the draft he had been writing.
The Administrative Department.
"If I expect others to represent Frostbound Coast."
His gaze shifted toward the window.
Toward the city.
Toward the future.
"Then I should occasionally represent it myself."
Far beneath Scarder Lake.
Seiren listened quietly.
Then laughed.
A beautiful laugh.
Ancient and warm.
"The nobles are about to discover you actually exist."
Kel sighed.
"Unfortunately."
The Guardian laughed harder.
Outside.
The city remained unaware.
Representatives continued waiting.
Nobles continued hoping.
Envoys continued searching.
Scholars continued investigating.
Merchants continued negotiating.
And somewhere within Frostbound Coast—
News had begun spreading.
A shocking rumor.
A miraculous rumor.
A completely unbelievable rumor.
The Count had finally been found.
And tomorrow...
The doors of his office would open.