Rus brushed off his clothes to make himself look more presentable, cleared his throat, and was just about to step forward—when the door opened by itself.
Two private soldiers, their shirts disheveled and arms slung over each other's shoulders, stumbled out of the building.
Rus recognized them immediately—one was named Vlav, the other Mosingan. Both had flushed faces and reeked of alcohol.
Hic! Vlav burped loudly. "Damn, the booze in this place packs a punch... whew... but the toilet's way too dark."
Mosingan wobbled his head, slurring but still a bit more sober than Vlav. "Wait, did we come out the wrong door? This sign looks familiar…"
"Who cares? We're here now. I can't hold it anymore," Vlav muttered as he stumbled toward a tree and unbuckled his belt. A moment later, the unmistakable sound of running water echoed in the quiet night.
Mosingan chuckled, walked over, and began unfastening his own belt. Glancing to the side, he laughed, "Tsk, buddy, not much to brag about down there, huh? Don't embarrass yourself in front of those ladies."
"It ain't about size, man—it's about hardness and stamina!" Vlav swayed with a drunken grin. "They'll see what a real man looks like soon enough!"
"You're right," Mosingan nodded with gusto. "Once we're back in there, we gotta hold nothing back—make a name for ourselves! We've got over a dozen of our guys here tonight. Gotta rank who's best!"
When they were done relieving themselves, the two staggered back into the building, mumbling and laughing. Not far off, Rus stood by a corner wall, caught between amusement and exasperation.
These two—earlier in the day, one had earnestly said he needed money to buy a bracelet for his daughter, and the other said he was shopping for a blanket for his grandma. Yet here they were now, hitting up the brothel together.
Judging from their conversation, it sounded like most of his off-duty soldiers were here tonight for a "team-building" session.
"Bunch of brats," Rus muttered with a chuckle before turning toward Central Avenue.
He figured he wouldn't ruin their fun—it was rare enough for them to have a break. There would be other chances to speak with them.
Eventually, he arrived at the administrative hall. The guards at the gate snapped to attention.
"Good evening, Baron!"
Rus gave a nod. "Has anyone stopped by?"
"President Fili came by earlier. Left a gift for you—it's already in your room," the guard replied.
"Alright. You've been on duty all day, so take it easy once you shut the gate," Rus said, clapping the man on the shoulder before heading inside.
There were no electric lights in this era. Magical lamps existed, but they were expensive, so most places still relied on candles and oil lamps for illumination. The administrative hall was no different—candle sconces lined the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced across the worn wooden stairs with every creaking step. It all lent the place a haunted-house vibe.
Back at his room, Rus kicked open the door—and was met by two startled gasps.
His brows rose in mild amusement. "Well, Fili... so this is the 'gift' you prepared for me?"
Two women were crouched in the corner of the room, and the gasps had come from them.
They looked like sisters—similar features, both with chestnut hair and light gray eyes.
"Come here," Rus said, nudging the door shut with a gentle tap of his foot.
With a soft thud, the door closed. The women trembled and helped each other to their feet, walking slowly toward him.
Their bare feet padded softly across the carpet, and in the dim candlelight, their glossy nails shimmered like fireflies on a summer night.
A smile of approval appeared in Rus's eyes. Their attire perfectly suited the moment.
They wore white, sheer nightgowns—loose, soft, nearly translucent. The candlelight revealed their elegant curves beneath the thin fabric. As they moved, glimpses of smooth calves flickered beneath the gauzy folds, tantalizing yet ethereal.
One was tall and curvy, the other petite and slender. Though dressed the same, each projected a different kind of allure.
The younger one moved hesitantly, legs pressed tightly together, the soft fabric caught between her thighs as she walked—shy and delicate, her innocence begged to be crushed in an embrace.
The older one, though nervous, walked with a firmer stride and squared shoulders. A sheen of sweat clung to her body, making the sheer fabric stick to her voluptuous curves. With each step, her generous figure swayed like waves in motion.
They stopped in front of him. The older one swallowed hard and began, "Baron Rus, I…"
She broke off, her breath suddenly catching—Rus's hand had slid along their backs, moving slowly upward, sending a shiver like electric current down her spine. She instinctively straightened up.
The younger girl's breath grew ragged as well. Her nostrils flared, and she let out a faint whimper tinged with fear of the unknown.
And so, the beauty before Rus fully revealed itself.
The older one's body was ripe and full—like a heavy, juicy persimmon at the peak of autumn. The younger one had not yet fully matured, her skin taut and supple like unripe pears, with youthful curves hinted at beneath the thin nightgown.
Rus's hands glided from their backs to their waists, then upward again, kneading and exploring the distinct charms of each.
"Ah…" the older woman exhaled sensually.
"Eek—" the younger one gasped in fear.
Satisfied by the sensations at his fingertips, Rus asked, "What are your names?"
"I'm Winnette," the older one replied, her voice trembling. "And this is my daughter... Della."
Rus's hand stopped. "Daughter?"
"Yes, my lord," Winnette said, lowering her eyes. "My husband said… only by doing this could he repay his offense…"
A complicated mix of emotions surged within Rus, scattering the lust from his mind.
That bastard Fili—he actually sent his own wife and daughter?
What the hell does he think I am?
Rus shook his head and sighed. "Go. Go wherever you need to."
Winnette flinched. She'd heard the rumors—that this baron was a ruthless womanizer. She hadn't believed he'd just let them leave.
"Did... did we do something wrong, my lord?" she asked timidly.
"You did nothing wrong," Rus said flatly. "Just go back and tell Fili to stop wasting time on shady schemes—and focus on doing his job properly."
"Thank you… thank you for your kindness…" Winnette nearly collapsed in relief. She hadn't expected to be spared. Guiding Della by the hand, she bowed deeply. "We'll never forget your mercy."
The door opened, then closed. Their footsteps faded away, and not long after, a carriage rolled away from the hall.
Rus tossed his coat onto the bed, kicked off his shoes and socks, and walked barefoot onto the balcony.
The cool night breeze brushed against his skin, clearing away the heat that had built up in him. He bit off a cork and took a long swig of Angel's Tear, smirking as the sweet liquid slid down his throat.
"That Fili…"
"Cautious, yet always scheming... He's useful, but only for maintaining what's already built. He doesn't have what it takes to expand."
Rus's gaze stretched out over the town. It was already ten at night, but Goldspark was still ablaze with lights—from taverns, parlors, and inns.
He reached out with one hand and slowly clenched it into a fist, as if grasping the entire town.
"This... is my domain," he murmured with satisfaction before taking another gulp of Angel's Tear.
The sweet, chilled wine slid warmly into his stomach—a soothing, intoxicating sensation.
"Now that's a real drink." He remembered the beer he'd guzzled at the tavern. He still liked the taste, but it wasn't about the drink—it was about the memories that came with it.
But memories were just that—memories.
To Rus, those dingy taverns were like muddy pits he once crawled through. Fun for a visit, but to live there again? He'd rather die.
It had only been two months since he arrived in this world, but Rus was already starting to lose track of which memories were his, and which belonged to this body.
Maybe it didn't matter anymore.
In just two months, he'd accomplished more than he ever imagined: inherited a barony, built a force loyal to him, and now—Goldspark Town was his again.
"Power... is a wonderful thing."
It was because he held power that Fili bent over backward to curry favor. Because of power, he could kill Karl without fear of retribution.
In this world, only nobles were seen as human. The rest? Just dogs kept by the nobility. No one would kill over a dog.
And this was only the beginning. Now that he was here, Rus wouldn't settle for the lowly title of baron. He wanted more.
In this world, power wasn't just about titles and land.
Personal strength was a form of power too.
"Mage." Rus dipped a finger into his wine and wrote the word on the table. Next to it, he wrote: 2000.
That was the price of a Tier-2 Divine Elixir—used to awaken magical talent.
But he didn't have enough money yet.
Danys had given him 800 gold coins in total, and after various expenses, he had just 96 left.
The first batch of Angel's Tear brought in 235.58 coins.
Gold taken from the spatial belt: 227 coins.
The gold Rus had squeezed out of Hyde, after buying back Goldspark Town, still left him with 3,500 coins.
Total funds on hand: 4,058.58 gold coins.
A solid amount—but the expenses were just as substantial.
In a single day, he had already spent 754 coins—just as a deposit. The full amount would be double that: 1,508 coins in total.
If the large-scale alchemy equipment turned out to be usable, Rus planned to purchase at least ten sets. That would cost another 664 coins.
Population adjustments: 600 coins.
Compensation and bonuses for his private soldiers: 8.64 coins.
That brought the running total to: 2,780.64 gold coins.
Beyond that, Rus needed to set aside at least 200 coins for emergencies. Who knew what issues might arise during construction?
"So that leaves me with…" Rus did a quick mental calculation. "1,077.94 coins available!"
Still only halfway to affording the mage awakening potion.
And that wasn't even factoring in all his other plans, which also needed funding.
"I've really got to step up the money-making game." Rus ruffled his hair. "Goldspark Town is nice, but I can't stay here forever. Once things are handled, I need to head back. My real focus has to be on Eagle Town."
Putting all your eggs in one basket was a mistake—and one Donald had made. He'd depended too heavily on Goldspark's tax revenue. The moment the town was taken, his entire economy collapsed.
Rus was determined not to repeat that error.
Goldspark also had its own flaws.
First, it was too close to Snow Maple Territory. While Viscount John had been momentarily bluffed into compliance, there was no guarantee he'd stay fooled forever. If he ever decided to retaliate, Goldspark would be impossible to defend.
And second—and more fundamentally—Goldspark lacked a true pillar industry.
Yes, it had a bustling economy, dense population, and lively trade, particularly in alcohol sales.
And that was precisely the problem.
Goldspark's economy depended on liquor, yet the town didn't even have a local brewery. Aside from a few scattered private distillers, nearly all the alcohol was imported.
In times of peace, that was fine. But the Nord Province wouldn't stay peaceful for long.
"It'll probably start before the end of the year," Rus muttered, a dark glint in his eyes.
Old Gordon had advised him—now that Goldspark was back and Eagle Town was still rebuilding—it made more sense to invest in infrastructure than spend a fortune on private troops.
After all, Rus had already spent nearly 500 coins on arms and equipment—almost a fifth of his budget.
But Rus refused to compromise. If it weren't for the population constraints, he would've already raised an army of three hundred.
What good was money if not used to build a military? Was he supposed to spend it on reparations instead?
Besides, he knew chaos was coming to the Nord Province.
He'd sensed it back in Monn City. Entire blocks of slum dwellers had gone missing, strange preachers had begun appearing, and underground gatherings were drawing more and more common folk.
He remembered their chant clearly:
"When Thanatus awakens, we shall be reborn."
Thanatus—the god of death, said to slumber in eternal darkness—was rumored to open his eyes every Wintermoon.
That's why Rus was convinced something would happen then. He'd even asked Old Gordon to finish the population relocation before October.
Rus had considered reporting all this to the Church of Light.
But he dismissed that idea just as quickly.
If things had gotten bad enough that even a nobody like him had picked up on it, how could the nobles and clergy possibly be unaware?
Getting involved would only get him killed faster.
Back then, Rus's only goal had been to save up enough money to live in Monn City's upper district—where the rich and powerful resided. No matter what chaos erupted, they'd be the last affected.
But now, he was a lord—and that opened new doors.
He couldn't stop what was coming, nor did he know how big it would get. Would it be crushed in its infancy? Or spread across all of Nord?
It didn't matter.
What mattered was that Rus needed military strength—enough to protect himself.
Only then would he have options. To fight. To defend. To escape.
His next steps were clear.
"More recruitment... and I'll need to hire a new batch of maids," Rus murmured, eyes growing sharp as the Angel's Tear settled in his belly. "Once the first shipment arrives, I'll head straight back to Eagle Town."
"With more options available, I'll need to raise the standards for this recruitment drive. Training levels also need to improve."
His fingers tapped the table lightly. "And then—becoming a mage. With next month's Angel's Tear revenue, plus the 700 gold Elaina still owes me, that should be enough."
"And after that…"
A sly, ambitious grin crept across Rus's face, tinged with both self-mockery and ambition.
"I want a legion. A legion of transcendents."
He'd even thought of the name: The Zodiac Legion.
Those who practiced Frost Qi would form the Aquarius Battalion.
Those of the Dark Qi arts—the Cancer Battalion.
And those who wielded Iron Qi—the Taurus Battalion…
Of course, this was just a dream for now.
He couldn't even afford twelve transcendents, let alone twelve battalions.
But a man needed dreams. Without them, how was he different from a salted fish?
Besides—he had found the key to making it happen: magic cores.
If the energy in a core could enhance himself, then why couldn't it strengthen others?
Even if it didn't grant them combat aura, it would still improve their physical attributes.
A Tier-1 Divine Elixir cost 300 gold, while a Tier-1 magic core only went for four or five coins on average. The cost gap was obvious.
"Hmph… hopefully Fili doesn't drag his feet. He better send over the magic cores quickly." Rus's eyes were full of anticipation.
Meanwhile, in the southwest of Goldspark Town, inside a private estate—
A sharp, spoiled voice rang out: "Karl's dead? Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?!"
The speaker was a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, petite and dressed in a silk nightgown. Her soft legs peeked out from beneath the hem, and her ten dainty toes fidgeted in sync with her rising anger.
A maid knelt on the floor, trembling. "Miss Nancy, we only received the news at noon, but you were conducting a magic experiment at the time, so…"
Nancy pouted angrily. "Yes, I told you I'd be doing experiments—but didn't I also say today was the day Rus was taking back Goldspark? I told you—if anything happened, you were to report it immediately!"
"Yes, milady, but…" the maid replied, voice full of grievance.
She had tried to report it earlier—but before she could finish, Nancy had thrown a bottle of alchemical potion at her, ruining her outfit completely. After that, who dared speak again?
Nancy remembered, but of course she wouldn't apologize. Huffing, she popped a grape into her mouth. "Hmph! Fine, spill it. How did he die?"
"Rumor says… he attempted to assassinate Baron Rus, and was killed on the spot," the maid whispered.
"Assassinate?" Nancy's eyes widened. She scoffed. "That's rich. A merchant trying to assassinate a baron? Does Rus think we're all idiots?"
"Karl was a dog of the Fox family. If you want to beat a dog, you at least look at the owner. Rus's clearly showing no respect to the Foxes!"
"Dress me. I'm going to confront him right now."
"Uh…" The maid hesitated. "But miss, it's already past midnight. Visiting a man's home at this hour... wouldn't that affect your reputation?"
"Hmph, as if I'd ever be interested in a street thug like him." Nancy rolled her eyes but sat back down. "You've got a point. I can't let my name get tarnished by some busy little 'bee.' I'm destined to become a royal consort one day."
The maid said nothing. Royal consort? Miss Nancy hadn't even met a prince, let alone caught one's eye.
"Then we wait for morning," Nancy declared, her chin raised like a proud rooster. "He wants to show off his power? I'll storm the administrative hall myself and make him apologize in front of everyone!"
"I'll make it clear to them—The Fox family's authority is not to be trifled with!"