Chapter 6

"Alright, I'm off!"

With that, Zen—acting on Harold’s orders—dashed out of the room in high spirits. Kazuki could only tilt his head in confusion, wondering where that sudden burst of motivation had come from.

A twinge of anxiety nagged at him; he just hoped the guy wouldn't get carried away and do something unnecessary.

Well, if Norman trusts his judgment, it probably won't end in a total disaster, Kazuki told himself. Deciding to clear his head, he headed out to perform the sword drills that were fast becoming his daily routine.

This was an RPG world. Once you stepped outside the safety of human settlements, monsters roamed the wilds as a matter of course.

It went without saying that surviving in such a perilous world required a corresponding level of strength. Moreover, as Harold Stokes, Kazuki was destined to be swept into the center of a violent, swirling vortex of conflict.

While he intended to avoid combat whenever possible, he knew he wouldn't have that luxury when it came to events tied to the original story. Therefore, he had begun practicing a semblance of swordsmanship to prepare for the inevitable.

Carrying the sword Zen had purchased in Reitze, he stepped into the backyard. After confirming he was alone, he began running through a training menu he had devised himself.

He gripped the hilt with both hands, raised it above his head, and swung it down in one fluid motion. From that position, he snapped his wrist to the left and slashed upward to the right with a single hand.

Using his leading right foot as an axis, he pivoted clockwise, using the centrifugal force to deliver a horizontal slash from the left.

This was Harold’s basic combination from the game—the standard three-hit combo triggered by tapping the attack button.

Kazuki, who lacked even basic Kendo experience, had no way of knowing if these moves were actually practical in a real fight, but he decided to use them as his foundation for now.

Initially, he had practiced standard overhead strikes like a Kendo student, but he figured that since he was preparing for a game world, practicing the game's actual animations would likely yield better results.

Nearly a month into this regimen, the movements had begun to settle into his body. The physical intuition allowing him to master the blade so quickly wasn't Kazuki’s—it was Harold’s.

When he thought about it, Harold might have been a world-class scumbag, but he was an exceptionally high-tier combatant, capable of clearing dungeons solo and trading blows with the protagonist’s party. If Kazuki trained seriously with this body, he might actually attain that level of power.

(Thinking about it that way actually gets me kind of hyped!)

Despite the absurdity of his situation, Kazuki couldn't help the feeling. He was a Brave Hearts fan to his core. Even if he had possessed the most hated character in the franchise, the prospect of being able to perform the legendary techniques from the game made his heart dance.

Fueled by determination and excitement, Kazuki continued to swing his sword in silence. To an outside observer, the sight of a small boy effortlessly wielding an adult-sized sword would have been utterly bizarre.

Normally, a child his age wouldn't even be able to swing the blade properly, but Harold’s high-spec body compensated for the lack of raw size. Kazuki himself remained blissfully unaware of just how much heavy lifting his new biology was doing.

One way or another, Harold Stokes was a talented man.

Between tending to the crops, training his sword skills, and currying favor with his parents, a month and a half passed. By the time the potted plants on the balcony were all lush and vibrant, Kazuki was finally ready for his next move.

The person Kazuki summoned to his room that day was a slender man wearing glasses. He appeared to be in his early thirties, and his sharp, piercing gaze gave him a cold, unapproachable air.

His name was Jake, one of the accountants responsible for managing the finances of House Stokes. Even the usually stoic and taciturn Jake seemed visibly unsettled by the summons.

There were four people in the room: Harold, the young master; Norman, the veteran head butler; Zen; and Jake himself.

"Sit."

Kazuki—performing his role as Harold—spoke the command the moment Jake entered.

Norman, standing diagonally behind Harold, stepped forward and handed a small booklet to Jake as he took his seat.

"Read it."

"Yes, milord."

Jake’s confusion only deepened as he flipped open the booklet. However, as he scanned the pages, the look in his eyes sharpened.

Contained within were the granular details of House Stokes' financial situation. It was a headache-inducing mountain of red ink, but sadly, these were figures Jake knew all too well.

"Are there any glaring errors in those records?"

"……No, milord. There are none."

Errors were impossible; these were direct copies of the balance sheets Jake himself had compiled. He knew his own work was flawless.

Is he going to use these to find a reason to punish me? The thought crossed Jake’s mind.

"I thought as much."

Contrary to Jake's fears, Harold let out a heavy sigh. There was no malice in it, nor any intent to rebuke. If anything, he sounded utterly exhausted.

"For several years now, the Stokes' finances have been hemorrhaging money. The primary cause is my parents' obsession with vain extravagance. We’re staying afloat on the savings of previous generations and predatory taxation, but that won't last forever. The burden on the peasantry is reaching its limit. Do you have any objections to this assessment?"

"I am aware that the situation is... trending in that direction."

Jake’s expression remained a mask, but internally, he was reeling. It was shocking enough that a ten-year-old boy could perfectly decipher a complex financial report, but he couldn't grasp the motive.

Harold, the heir to the house, was openly criticizing his own parents, the current heads. Jake had no idea how he was expected to respond.

At a loss, Jake glanced at Norman for help, but the old butler merely stood behind Harold with a serene expression, offering no hint.

"It's not an emergency quite yet, but if this continues, both House Stokes and the people living on our land will face total collapse. Though I suppose for people like you, it might be a blessing if this house just rotted away."

"Please, milord, do not say such things. If someone were to overhear, it could be mistaken for treasonous intent."

Jake offered the safest response possible.

From Kazuki’s perspective, however, it wasn't exactly a mistake. He wasn't planning an insurrection to seize control of the house, but he also had no burning desire to preserve House Stokes at all costs or even become the next head.

To be blunt, he didn't care if the house collapsed exactly as it did in the original story. He just wanted to fade into the background once the plot was over and live out his days as a peaceful "Townsperson A."

Of course, the priority was returning to his original world, but since he had zero clues on how to do that, he'd put that goal on the back burner for now.

"Hmph. Regardless, it's obvious we’ll eventually go bankrupt unless we increase revenue from the peasantry—specifically the agricultural district."

Jake remained silent. He couldn't argue, because the agricultural sector in the Stokes Territory had already entered a state of terminal decline.

Between the crushing taxes and failing yields, many were quitting the trade or fleeing the territory altogether. The trend was particularly fatal among small-scale farmers.

If this continued, tax revenue would plummet. And when it did, would the current Lord Stokes lower taxes to help the people recover? Jake knew the answer. That man would do the opposite—he’d hike the rates even higher to wring every last copper out of the survivors.

(Does Lord Harold truly understand the gravity of this...?)

This wasn't a problem a ten-year-old should be losing sleep over. Most children his age couldn't even read a balance sheet, let alone project a territorial collapse. But for the boy in front of him, such things didn't even seem to be a hurdle.

"That's why I've called you here," Harold continued. "You're the one tasked with inspecting the agricultural district, aren't you?"

"I am... but what do you mean by that?"

"Zen."

"Right away!"

On cue, Zen threw open the balcony doors. He returned with a basket overflowing with Red Gults and set them down in front of Jake with a heavy thud.

Jake stared at the fruit, blinking in confusion. "Um, what is...?"

"Now, now! Don't just stare! Please, sample Lord Harold's specially grown Red Gult!"

"Don't you start butting in either," Harold snapped at Zen. "Do you want to be turned into fertilizer?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Lord Harold... grew these?" Jake asked, stunned.

To be honest, the only thought in his head was Why? He couldn't fathom why a noble like Harold would be farming in his room, nor why he was being forced to eat the results.

Still, he couldn't refuse. He tentatively picked up a Red Gult and took a bite.

"...! It's... sweet?"

"Right?!"

"Why are you the one acting proud..."

Jake's blood ran cold at Zen’s lack of decorum, but Harold didn't strike him. He merely massaged his temples in exasperation.

"In any case, what you just ate was grown using a unique method I developed. I want you to lend me your strength to disseminate this method."

"Why me, milord?"

"Implementing this method requires capital and, in some cases, specialized equipment. You're the best fit because you know the Stokes' finances inside out, and as an inspector, you know the reality of the fields."

Harold’s logic was sound. If the materials and quantities were decided, Jake could calculate the costs. He could judge the feasibility of new equipment and suggest ways to meet the necessary conditions.

The real question was whether this new farming method was actually viable for mass adoption.

These Red Gults were exponentially better than standard ones. If they hit the market, demand would be astronomical. However, if the production cost exceeded the market price, they were useless. Some farmers wouldn't survive the wait for the initial investment to turn into a profit.

"It seems you actually have a brain in your head."

Harold didn't seem annoyed by Jake’s silence; if anything, he seemed impressed.

From Kazuki’s perspective, he didn't need a mindless drone who would just say "yes" to authority. He needed someone who could think for themselves. Kazuki only knew what was in the game; he needed people like Norman and Jake to catch the real-world problems he might miss.

"If it can improve our current situation, I would be honored to help. However..."

"However, you can't just nod along without hearing the specifics. If you said that to my father, he’d either beat you for talking back or toss you into the Underground Dungeon."

Jake stiffened. So he really is that man's son, he thought.

But for some reason, Norman and Zen were both wearing wry smiles.

"……Well, it's the logical reaction. If you’d agreed without a single question, I would have just felt like I had a second Zen to worry about, and my stress would have doubled."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should try using your head for once."

"That's cold..."

Ignoring the sulking Zen, Kazuki continued. This was the heart of the matter.

"Now, I'll give you the explanation you want. This is the key."

He held up a bottle of Life Potion. His plan was simple: the LP Farming Method.

So far, all three types of vegetables he’d tested showed accelerated growth and significantly higher sugar content when treated with Life Potion.

He didn't plan to convert every field at once. Instead, they would start with a pilot program, grouping several small-scale farmers together. This would disperse the economic risk of failure and prevent a single bad harvest from being a death sentence.

Furthermore, by grouping them, they could supply the project using the "expired" Life Potions slated for disposal in the Stokes' treasury. This would keep the initial overhead almost non-existent.

The defining trait of the LP method was its sheer speed. It was bordering on the supernatural.

Normally, a Red Gult took nearly two months from seed to harvest. With Life Potion, they bore fruit in five days to a week. In the game, you could harvest the next day after sleeping at an inn, but reality seemed to have a bit more lag.

Regardless, with that kind of turnover, even a tiny plot of land could generate massive profits.

"Harvesting in just five days!?" Jake’s usually calm voice cracked. It was revolutionary—an agricultural miracle.

"But we can't let it work too well."

"Why not?" Zen asked.

"Because if we flood the market with cheap, high-quality produce, we’ll crash the prices. We risk bankrupting every farmer outside the Stokes Territory."

The LP method might cost slightly more in materials, but the volume and speed would allow for mass production at a fraction of current costs.

Kazuki’s real fear, however, was his own safety. He didn't want to become the target of international resentment. If people found out Harold Stokes was the one who crashed the global produce market, he’d have a target on his back.

On the flip side, if his greedy parents found out, they’d try to monopolize the tech. Kazuki wanted to avoid both extremes. He wanted to start small, with strict limits on harvest volume, to slowly stabilize the local economy.

Once they had a foothold, they could expand to other crops.

So far, he’d found that Red Gults and Suzu-imo preferred a 1:1 ratio of potion to water, while Bruna did better at 3:7. When he’d tried 100% Life Potion on a Bruna plant, it grew from seed to harvest between sunrise and sunset. He’d sent it to the kitchen via Zen, but the taste was apparently "vile," so he’d scrapped that idea.

Essentially, every crop had a "sweet spot" for growth and flavor. If they mapped those out, the agricultural district’s income would stabilize at a very high level.

"Ideally, I’d form a dedicated team for this, but..."

That would require his father’s approval. Kazuki could already see his parents' eyes turning into gold coins.

He wanted to avoid friction between farmers and keep other nobles from hating him. Even if he couldn't keep it a secret forever, he wanted to at least restore the farmers' finances to the point where they could afford to buy their own Life Potions before the secret got out.

No matter how big the headache, he had to do this to survive his death flags.

When he finished, he noticed Jake was staring at him, mouth agape. Norman looked equally stunned. Zen had clearly checked out halfway through and was nodding off.

Ignoring Zen, he frowned at the other two.

"Do you two have a hobby of showing people your stupid faces?"

"M-my apologies, milord. I was just... overwhelmed by the sheer scale of your vision."

"I had heard rumors," Norman added, "but to have thought this through to such a degree... I am truly in awe."

(Being admired this much for an amateur’s brainstorm is making me really nervous...) Kazuki thought.

He didn't have a degree in economics. He was just throwing out a rough framework based on game logic. He hoped these two were actually capable of filling in the blanks.

"I’ll tell you now: I don't need yes-men. If you see a flaw, I want you to point it out. Every single one. Understood?"

If they didn't, the pressure would probably kill him.

However, Norman and Jake interpreted his words very differently.

At his age, he has discovered a world-altering cultivation method and devised a realistic policy to implement it. And yet, he isn't conceited—he demands the highest level of scrutiny from himself and others.

He doesn't care about the wealth or fame this would bring. He is focused entirely on the salvation of the people. Such profound compassion and iron-willed dedication...

The realization hit them both with the weight of an epiphany: Harold Stokes was a man born to lead.

He radiated a natural charisma that made them want to follow him into the fire.

"Final confirmation, then. Jake, will you be my hands and feet?"

The accountant didn't even have to think. "I will dedicate every ounce of my ability to your service, Lord Harold."

"If you serve me, then exert yourself for the pathetic commoners, not for my sake," Harold sneered. "They are weaklings who cannot survive without someone to hold their hands."

He spoke with total arrogance, yet his goal was the protection of the weak. His stance was more honorable than that of any knight.