Silco had been unbearably busy lately—so busy that he barely had time to catch his breath.
All of this stemmed from a single, casually spoken order from Louis:
"Go and register the basic information of the Red Tide Territory's residents. See what each of them is good at."
That one sentence had condemned Silco to days of endless paperwork.
Now, he sat buried in a mountain of messy handwritten files, staring blankly at a line of confused farmers, fishermen, and blacksmiths who stood awkwardly before him. Most of them had clearly never been asked such questions in their lives.
"I… I used to farm," one man said hesitantly.
"Do you still want to farm?" Silco asked, rubbing his aching temples.
"…I don't know."
"…Next."
Others answered even more casually.
"I'm good at living."
Silco nearly slammed the record book directly into that man's face.
What kind of answer was that supposed to be?
Grinding his teeth, Silco scribbled furiously, copying names and notes into the ledger as quickly as he could.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "How did I—a future grand alchemist—end up doing housekeeping work for some backwater frontier lord?"
The more he thought about it, the more bitter he felt.
But in the end, he had no one to blame but himself.
If he hadn't been so reckless—if he hadn't stolen that alchemy secret formula—he wouldn't be here.
Originally, Silco had been nothing more than an alchemy apprentice. His days in the Emerald Federation were stable, if unremarkable. He assisted his mentor, studied formulas, and occasionally stole a few magic crystals to sell on the side so he could afford a slightly more luxurious lifestyle.
That was, until one fateful day in the black market.
A mysterious buyer approached him and offered an absurdly high price—one that made Silco's heart pound violently. All he had to do was steal a specific alchemy secret technique from his mentor.
The price was tempting. Far too tempting.
With that money, Silco could break free from his apprenticeship and open his own workshop. He wouldn't have to bow his head to anyone ever again.
He hesitated—but not for long.
After all, wasn't alchemy about taking risks?
The plan, however, went disastrously wrong.
The secret formula was far more profound than Silco had expected. There was no way he could memorize it in such a short time. In a moment of desperation, he simply took the entire document.
His mentor was old and forgetful anyway. Surely, he wouldn't notice one missing formula.
That assumption proved catastrophically wrong.
The missing formula was discovered almost immediately. Worse still, it turned out to be one of the Gold Marrow Guild's core secrets. The guild erupted in fury, issuing a formal warrant and vowing to hunt down the thief at any cost.
The black market buyer didn't last long.
He was caught, interrogated, and quickly confessed everything.
Silco knew what would happen if he were captured.
Severe punishment would be the best outcome. At worst, he would be sent to a laboratory, strapped to an experimental table, and turned into a guinea pig for countless twisted alchemy experiments.
Terrified, Silco fled.
In a desperate gamble, he disguised himself as a slave and mixed in with a group being transported out of the Emerald Federation. His plan was simple: escape the Federation first, then look for a chance to flee.
Unfortunately, the slave traders were far more ruthless than he'd anticipated.
The moment he tried to test his freedom, he was met with a brutal whip.
Again and again.
After several savage beatings, any thoughts of resistance were crushed out of him. He learned obedience the hard way.
Just like that, Silco stopped pretending.
He became a real slave.
From then on, he dared not reveal his identity as an alchemy apprentice. If the traders discovered the truth, they would happily sell him back to the Gold Marrow Guild for a reward—and he would be sent straight to the operating table.
After months of being passed around, he was finally brought to the black market of Frost Halberd City.
At the time, Silco was certain his fate was sealed. He would be sold to a mine, forced to dig until his body gave out, and die nameless and forgotten.
Then, unexpectedly, he was purchased by a young pioneering lord named Louis.
He was taken to a desolate, freezing land known as the Red Tide Territory.
At first, Silco thought he had merely escaped one hell only to fall into another.
A frontier territory with no development, no wealth, and no future—surely he would be worked to death here.
But Louis surprised him.
Unlike other nobles, Louis did not treat slaves like livestock. He didn't whip them, starve them, or work them to the bone.
When Louis learned that Silco could read and keep accounts, he immediately revoked Silco's slave status and assigned him as an assistant—something akin to a steward.
More shockingly, Silco witnessed Louis personally tearing up slave contracts, granting freedom to people who had lost all hope.
He shared his food with the starving.
He spoke to slaves as equals.
A noble who treated slaves like people?
In Silco's eyes, that didn't look like a capable lord.
It looked like a devout believer—or perhaps a fool.
"Tsk… guess I got lucky this time," Silco muttered to himself.
Yet deep down, he never stopped calculating his chances of escape.
After all, how could a future grand alchemist waste his entire life in this godforsaken place?
…
"My lord, this is the census you asked me to conduct for the territory's residents."
Silco placed a thick ledger onto Louis's desk.
His face was pale with exhaustion, deep dark circles hanging under his eyes. Even his steps were unsteady.
"Hm. You've worked hard," Louis said calmly as he picked up the ledger.
He flipped through the pages at a relaxed pace.
The handwriting wasn't especially neat, but it was clear and orderly. The information was categorized with meticulous care.
Elderly residents who could no longer farm, women skilled in weaving, children adept at hunting—every detail was marked clearly.
It was obvious how much effort had gone into this.
Louis looked up at the young man standing before him.
Silco stood loosely, his posture sloppy from fatigue, yet there was an undeniable sharpness behind his tired eyes.
Louis already knew that Silco was no ordinary person.
After all, his Daily Intelligence System was not just for show.
From the very moment he purchased Silco, Louis had known the truth: this young man was an alchemy apprentice from the Gold Marrow Guild of the Emerald Federation—and a wanted criminal.
But Louis hadn't exposed him.
On one hand, Silco showed no signs of malice. He worked diligently and never caused trouble.
Louis wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to see when Silco would choose to reveal the truth on his own.
On the other hand, in the current state of the Red Tide Territory, a literate assistant with administrative skills was far more valuable than an alchemy apprentice.
The territory was still in its infancy. Forget alchemy—basic infrastructure wasn't even complete yet.
Right now, what mattered was organization.
If Louis exposed Silco prematurely, what if the man lost motivation and started slacking off?
Louis glanced at the mountain of documents piled behind him.
If Silco were gone, he would be the one drowning in paperwork.
That was unacceptable.
So, Louis decided to continue pretending he knew nothing.
After all, this was a frozen wilderness. Even if Silco wanted to run, where could he go?
Setting Silco's matter aside, Louis focused on the ledger in his hands.
As he scanned the census results, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
Although the Red Tide Territory appeared desolate, its human resources were far richer than he had expected.
The population exceeded a thousand.
Farmers and herders made up the majority. There were over a hundred experienced fishermen, dozens of hunters, blacksmiths, carpenters, and tanners.
It was more than enough to build a self-sufficient territory.
This was exactly the information Louis needed.
The census wasn't mere record-keeping.
He needed to understand the context of his territory.
A territory was like a finely tuned machine—every gear had to be placed correctly for it to function efficiently.
A farmer could be forced to blacksmith. A fisherman could dig ditches. A hunter could herd sheep.
The work would still get done—but slowly and inefficiently.
If a lord did not understand his people, he could not control the future of the land.
Now that he had this information, the next step was clear.
It was time to assign roles properly—and finally set the Red Tide Territory on the path toward true development.
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