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Chapter 9
A new civil engineering administrator reported to the ducal castle.
He was the person selected the previous day after gathering the vassals and holding a Northern nobles’ council. He was passionate and diligent, an academy graduate who had majored in civil engineering, earned excellent grades, and even had five years of work experience in the Imperial Capital.
That kind of talent had returned to the North because his parents had fallen ill.
What stood out most to Christan was the fact that no Northern noble was backing him. That was why Aidan had placed his name on the list of candidates.
“Greetings, Your Grace. I am Jaiman Eksla, newly appointed to oversee civil engineering affairs. Thank you sincerely for entrusting me with such an important duty. I will devote my body and soul to my work!”
As Christan listened, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. He felt like he had heard something similar before.
—
‘I’ll work like a dog!’
—
Ah. Roella.
Her wording had been far rougher, but the meaning was essentially the same. And Roella was truly living up to those words.
According to Madame Rosette, there probably wasn’t anyone better than Roella at handling a typewriter.
Her fingers flew across the keys at a speed so astonishing it bordered on the miraculous.
—
‘It would’ve been a disaster if we hadn’t bought it.’
—
Even Aidan acknowledged it.
Roella had already submitted a neatly organized summary of three months’ worth of records in advance. The layout was clean, easy to read at a glance, with concise phrasing and sharp structuring.
Even Christan felt that the 120 ekra had not been a waste in the slightest.
In any case, if Jaiman could demonstrate comparable ability, there would be nothing more satisfying.
“I look forward to working with you.”
“I heard yesterday that I had been assigned to this post, so I visited the site right away. The most urgent issue is the bridge restoration. The collapse of the main bridge has caused a complete transportation bottleneck. Merchants are already voicing complaints. I’ve drafted a preliminary budget proposal.”
“So soon?”
“Yes!”
Jaiman replied energetically, smiling to himself.
Leaving his job in the Imperial Capital had been truly painful. His abilities had been recognized there, and he had been steadily climbing the ranks. A promotion was just around the corner.
Then his mother suffered a stroke.
Her right leg, right hand, and facial muscles were partially paralyzed.
With no choice, he resigned and returned to the North. It had been his mother’s fervent wish—she had even taken in sewing work to support the family and send him to study in the capital.
Jaiman couldn’t ignore her request.
In his despair, he had managed to secure a job in the North.
‘Advancing and taking on an important post in a place like this will be easy.’
The Duke was frequently absent due to battles with monsters. From Jaiman’s preliminary research, Northern administration was a complete mess. Stagnant systems were rotting, and everything trapped inside was drying up with them.
Standing out in this environment and becoming the Duke’s right-hand man?
A golden path would open before him.
Jaiman’s ambition burned brightly.
“I’ll review it and give you an answer by tomorrow.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll return tomorrow.”
After Jaiman left, Aidan spoke.
“It seems young people these days are full of passion and drive. Including Lady Roella.”
Aidan, too, had thought of Roella upon seeing Jaiman. Christan let out a quiet chuckle while skimming the documents.
“How about having Lady Roella review these documents?”
“Lady Roella?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Aidan smiled mischievously.
“I’ve grown genuinely curious about just how far her abilities extend. What do you think?”
Christan glanced at the papers. In truth, there were already mountains of work waiting.
Correcting the mistakes made by the acting administrators during his absence alone was enough to give him a headache.
This experience had taught him that popularity within the territory didn’t equate to competence.
“Let’s do that. But just in case, you should review it once more as well.”
Christan paused for a moment after speaking.
Somehow… he felt a bit excited.
Roella always surprised him in unexpected ways. Perhaps she would do so again.
Jaiman was a man brimming with ambition. Christan found himself genuinely curious how Roella would react to the proposal he had written.
Lately, he had been thinking about Roella more and more—without even realizing it.
If Jaiman learned well from Roella, the ducal house would gain yet another valuable asset.
Christan was relying on Roella in many ways.
This, too, was a change he had yet to notice.
Unaware of Christan’s thoughts, Aidan answered lightly.
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll do so.”
Meanwhile
This was the result of twenty years of typing practice on Hangul Word Processor.
My single-key speed used to hit around 700, with long keystrokes at 300. I was raised by my grandmother, who was a basic livelihood recipient. Through government support, I was able to attend one after-school class—and that was where it all started.
Watching my document-processing speed increase exponentially made my heart soar.
Tap, tap.
I lifted my head from the typewriter at the knock on my desk.
“Mr. Aidan?”
“Sorry to interrupt while you’re so focused, but His Grace has asked something of you.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“Could you review this document for me?”
What he handed over was a stack of papers about the thickness of a pinky finger.
“This is a budget proposal drafted by the new civil administrator. It outlines the costs for repairing the collapsed bridge. Could you check for any discrepancies?”
“Sure! I’ll take care of it quickly.”
Being entrusted with this kind of work meant my credibility was rising, right?
Honestly, I was grateful.
After Aidan left, I reviewed the documents. There was a hint of youthful sensibility, but it was still verbose and inefficient.
Tsk. Rewriting this would be faster.
Thanks to the printed tables delivered from the print shop that morning, my work speed increased even further. I confidently picked up my fountain pen.
The work-use fountain pen the general store owner had praised to the heavens.
His attitude had flipped instantly after I bought the typewriter.
Capitalism at its finest.
I spared no ink and began rewriting the document.
The volume wasn’t overwhelming. Huh—this part’s wrong. This would earn a written reprimand if left as is. He should be thanking me.
But wait.
Isn’t this strange?
“Madame Rosette.”
“Yes, Lady Roella?”
“Here. This part seems odd. Why are they laying soil on an already completed bridge?”
“To make it easier for carriages to pass.”
“Hm…”
“Is something wrong?”
Cost-cutting?
Stone paving would be far better.
Thinking back to my earlier outing, the roads here looked underdeveloped—probably because of the medieval setting. Infrastructure wasn’t properly maintained.
Is the whole world like this?
I’ve never been to the capital, so I wouldn’t know.
I took out a memo pad and jotted down a few notes.
They won’t get angry just because I offer an opinion, right?
