IMTDIK 26

Chapter 26. A Man Who Can Envision the Future

“An… outrageous story, you say?”

“Whether you believe what I’m about to say or not doesn’t matter. Just listen.”

“A-all right.”

Stefan straightened his posture, trying to focus just as Ferda had asked. Though he still felt a bit dizzy, he could pay attention.

Ferda began calmly.

“This is the future I envision.”

He didn’t dramatize it. No exaggerations, no lofty speeches. Just a simple recounting of what he had seen, heard, and felt.

As Stefan listened, certain keywords stuck with him.

‘A carriage that moves without horses… A tool powered by magic, yet doesn’t need mages…’

Stefan, often called a genius, had a sharp sense for business. To a merchant, business was simple: invest in what profits and discard what doesn’t.

But Ferda’s story?

‘A fanciful dream.’

From a business perspective, it sounded absurd. Something to dismiss immediately.

And yet…

‘It feels oddly plausible.’

Ferda wasn’t a conman trying to swindle him. There were no sweet lies or inflated promises. It felt more like an old man telling bedtime stories to a child—calm, genuine, and strangely vivid.

Despite how outlandish the tale was, Stefan couldn’t help but picture it clearly.

I don’t even know what this feeling is, but one thing’s clear… this will make money!

His head cleared. His hands trembled.

“That’s it. That’s the future I envision,” Ferda concluded.

Stefan opened his mouth, which had been sealed throughout the entire tale.

“That future… does it have anything to do with your current research, Regent?”

He was so shocked he forgot to stutter.

“Of course,” Ferda replied.

“If… if that’s the case, can you please tell me what it is? Please!”

Unable to contain his excitement, Stefan begged.

“It’s called magitech.”

“Magitech…”

The word sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps he’d heard of it before, but if he hadn’t paid attention, it must have seemed unprofitable at the time.

‘But this time… it feels different.’

“I-if your research requires monster corpses… would it be acceptable if we assisted you?”

“You’re offering to cooperate?”

“Yes. We’ll provide what you need.”

Ferda leaned back in his chair and asked,

“What do you want in return?”

“We’d like to be involved in the distribution and production of magitech products.”

“Only distribution and production?”

“Of course, we’d like exclusive rights.”

It was a bold request. A monopoly. The greatest prize for any merchant.

“I understand it’s bold. Everything will be adjusted to your will, Regent. All I ask is exclusive rights to products from this research.”

But Ferda didn’t seem impressed.

“What we’re researching has the potential to change the world. If you want to monopolize it, you’ll need to show more sincerity beyond just helping with research.”

“What would you like us to do?”

Ferda made his proposal.

“I’d like materials for road development, resources for the Public King’s domain, and a stockpile of emergency food supplies—all provided with top priority.”

Stefan was startled.

“You’re asking for a lot…”

“Is it unreasonable for a nation’s leader to want to invest in the country’s development?”

“No, it’s not unreasonable. Hahaha…”

Though Stefan laughed, his mind was racing.

‘Supplying those three things isn’t impossible… but top priority?’

Even if someone else offered more money, he’d have to ignore them and supply Ferda’s needs first, at fixed rates. It was a dangerous term.

“Your expression doesn’t look good,” Ferda noted.

“Pardon? N-no, that’s not true.”

“Are you hesitant because of the top priority condition?”

“No, not at all! That’s not it!”

Even if it was true, denying it was basic merchant behavior.

Ferda’s voice dropped to a serious tone.

“Think carefully. No amount of money is worth the regret of dying empty-handed, is it?”

Stefan flinched.

“A-are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m talking about your future. Herman Pascal is quite old now, isn’t he?”

“Ah…”

Stefan immediately grasped the implication.

‘My detestable brother and sister…’

Murchit and Tilda had been pushing him hard lately.

“Even if you suffer some losses now, isn’t becoming the owner of the Pascal Trading Company worth it?”

‘The owner… of the company…’

To Stefan, the Pascal Trading Company was everything. Not just wealth, but his life’s purpose.

“As much as you help me, I’ll help you,” Ferda said. “What Herman built, and what you’ve nurtured, will be entirely yours.”

Stefan considered the trade. Ferda’s demands, the vision he had shown, the cost to himself.

It was an overwhelmingly one-sided deal.

‘But the Regent could become someone who supports me…’

Ferda Valdrova. Once dismissed as irrelevant. A man others mocked.

‘But he’s not like that.’

Stefan now saw Ferda’s true worth. A man with a vision of the future. Not childish ideals, but vivid, concrete ideas—and the conviction to make them real.

‘He has what I don’t. The charisma to shape the future.’

And Stefan wanted to be part of it.

Still, he held back his answer and asked a question instead.

“May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“My elder brother and sister—why didn’t you choose them instead of me?”

Ferda answered bluntly.

“Because there’s nothing to gain from siding with them.”

Cold. Calculated. Honest.

“I’ll do it,” Stefan said.

Then, as if remembering something important, he added,

“I’ll make sure to do it without fail.”

He knelt and bowed deeply.

Ferda leaned forward and extended his hand.

“I look forward to working with you.”

“And I as well, Regent.”

No matter what proposal I hear in the future… nothing will make my heart race the way this deal does.

***

That day, a soldier—someone’s father and husband—lost his life. He died protecting farmers from a monster attack.

Priests performed the rites, holy water was sprinkled, and soldiers raised their swords to honor him.

Even Count Ulvera Consillus, too old now to wield a sword, attended the funeral. He never missed a soldier’s funeral.

But today, something felt different.

Even after the rites ended, Count Consillus remained at the gravesite, staring down in silence.

“Arwen,” he called.

“Yes, my lord?”

“What is the Empire saying? About the supplies?”

Arwen answered grimly.

“They say it will take time. Supplying the Empire’s soldiers takes priority…”

“Priority… you say.”

Ulvera stroked his beard. Usually calm and composed, today his fury showed.

“Those bastards… Those wretched bastards!”

“We’re citizens of the Empire too! We bleed and die on the frontlines while the Emperor arms city guards to maintain peace!”

“My lord, please calm down,” Arwen pleaded.

“I’ve never lived proudly, but I didn’t think I lived shamefully either. Yet today… for the first time, I feel ashamed.”

He knelt by the grave.

“The soldier’s sword broke as he struck the monster. It was five years old… He should have had a new one.”

“No amount of training can overcome broken weapons,” the Count said bitterly. “We fight a daily war. And they forget us.”

“I’ve failed you,” he whispered, gripping the grave.

The soldiers around him also knelt, weeping.

With Arwen’s help, Count Consillus stood again.

Just as he turned toward his residence, a noise arose from outside the gates.

“What’s going on out there?” he asked.

“Your Lordship! We were just about to report to you.”

“Report what?”

“There’s a line of carriages coming from the forest. Merchants, they say—but they seem suspicious. We haven’t let them in.”

“Merchants?”

“They claim to be from the Pascal Trading Company.”

Now that was odd.

Why would such a prominent company come to the Far East?

“I’ll go see for myself.”

Ready for anything, even a swordfight, the Count stepped outside.

A well-dressed middle-aged man on horseback stood before the gate.

“I’ve come to see Count Consillus,” the man called. “We have carriages in the forest—it’s dangerous to leave them.”

Arwen snapped, “You stand before Count Ulvera Consillus himself! Show respect!”

Startled, the man leapt off his horse and bowed.

“My apologies, Count! I didn’t recognize you!”

“It’s fine. Who are you?”

“We’re representatives of the Pascal Trading Company.”

“Prove it.”

The man showed official documents, bearing the Empire’s crest.

“And why are you here?”

“We’re here to establish a branch in your territory.”

“A branch? In the Far East?”

It was shocking. Why here, of all places?

“Our superiors instructed us to prioritize support for roadwork, resources, and more. After evaluating locations, your territory was deemed the most suitable. If you approve, we’ll begin immediately.”

The Count stared blankly.

“Are you building a fortress here?”

The man laughed.

“No. We brought construction materials and—more importantly—supplies. We heard your region was struggling. On behalf of the Empire, we brought what you were denied.”

The Count rushed to the carriages.

“Gasp…”

His wrinkled eyes widened.

Inside was everything he had requested and been denied.

Weapons, food, maintenance gear—high-quality equipment, strong and durable.

He picked up a sword.

Why… why would they do this?

The answer came.

“It’s a project in collaboration with the Public King’s representative.”