The tavern interior looked like a battlefield.
Broken tables and chairs lay scattered about.
Shards of shattered plates were strewn across the floor here and there—an optional extra.
*Man, they really trashed the place.*
He couldn't help but click his tongue.
The sight of the tavern owner cleaning up the mess made it even worse.
"Oh, y-you're here?"
A bald man with a bitter expression, tidying the wrecked room.
The moment he spotted Lloyd, his face went pale.
A flash of anger crossed his features for an instant.
But it vanished just as quickly.
In its place was an awkward smile, forced with great effort.
It was the smile of someone who had no choice but to grin and bear it while scraping by in business in this territory.
*Last night's fiasco must have his blood boiling.*
Yet he couldn't show it.
Lloyd felt a pang of bitterness at the sight.
Memories of the past suddenly resurfaced.
*There were plenty of problem customers when I worked at the beer hall.*
To make ends meet, he'd bounced between all sorts of part-time gigs.
One of them had been at a beer hall.
Being a drinking establishment, it attracted every kind of patron imaginable.
Of course, some were troublemakers.
No, quite a few.
Drunks who spoke down to the part-timer and hurled abuse as a baseline.
Some even flipped tables or smashed bottles.
Because the drinks were overpriced.
Because the snacks weren't to their liking.
Because the part-timer hadn't bowed low enough with a bellybutton grovel.
There were even cases where they'd wave broken bottles and scream for the owner to come out.
*Whew.*
Remembering it all made him sigh involuntarily.
Back then, he'd been in the part-timer's shoes.
A nobody couldn't snap back at the almighty customer.
After such jerks left, how many times had he swallowed his boiling rage?
*Enough reminiscing.*
It was a bitter memory.
Thanks to it, Lloyd could fully empathize with the tavern owner's feelings.
Even though he hadn't caused this mess himself.
Even though it was the previous owner of this body who'd done it.
He apologized to the tavern owner with complete sincerity.
"I'm here to apologize for last night."
"...Pardon?"
"It was my fault. I should've just drunk quietly, but I went and caused a huge mess. I won't brush it off as a mistake. It was clearly my wrongdoing."
He meant every word.
But perhaps his sincerity came across wrong.
"Uh, um, Young Master? What's this about?"
"..."
The tavern owner's face had gone from pale to ashen blue.
It was the look of someone who'd just encountered the Grim Reaper.
"Young Master, wasn't last night enough? If not, at least tell me what I did wrong."
"No, that's not—"
"Why are you speaking so formally? It makes you even scarier."
"..."
It seemed this body's reputation among the territory folk was thoroughly rotten.
Lloyd smacked his lips.
"So you'd prefer it if I spoke casually like this?"
"Y-Yes, of course."
"Then you'll accept my apology?"
"..."
"And for the fixtures I broke last night, I'll compensate you?"
"You're serious?"
*Has this guy been duped his whole life?*
Lloyd clicked his tongue.
"Of course I'm serious. How about an ondol room instead of straight compensation?"
"Pardon?"
"A room where the floor gets nice and toasty warm. You know?"
"I know about heating stones and splashing water on them."
"That's a steam wet sauna. I'm talking about heating the floor itself to a nice warmth. Ondol. You don't know it?"
"..."
Of course not.
The tavern owner turned into a mute, honey-smeared fool, just like Haviel earlier.
That meant his plan had a shot.
Lloyd wet his lips.
"What a shame. Not knowing about ondol. It'd be perfect for your mother."
"Huh?"
"I heard the rumors. Your mother's been under the weather lately."
"Oh, yes, that's true, but."
"That's why I'm recommending ondol."
"..."
"It heats the floor nice and toasty. No need for a bed or anything. Just lie on the warm floor all day, letting the heat soak into your body. Nothing like a sauna could compare."
"..."
He's biting. Starting to bite.
He could see the tavern owner's eyes wavering.
That waver peaked at Lloyd's next words.
"On those winter days when it's freezing and a chill creeps into your bones. Perfect for elders with stiff joints."
"For elderly folks like my mother?"
"Naturally."
Everyone knew elders loved a good toasty roast.
"But you're saying you'll provide something like that? You, Young Master?"
"Yeah. I'll make it properly."
"Make it, you say?"
"Yeah."
"..."
"You don't believe me?"
"Well, of course not..."
"Can't blame you. You're thinking, 'What's this guy's angle? Spouting nonsense about some ondol scam. As if he could build it. Does it even exist? But it reminds me of Mom. My ears are perking up. It's pulling me in. Right?'"
"..."
"Then let's draw up a contract."
"A contract?"
"Yeah. A construction commissioning contract."
"What..."
"Bring me a pen and paper."
The tavern owner looked utterly bewildered.
Still, he obediently fetched pen and paper as asked.
Lloyd swiftly jotted down an instant contract form on the paper with practiced skill.
*It's just a template. I can make one myself.*
Client: Tavern Owner.
Contractor: Lloyd.
Site: Empty lot behind the tavern.
"Let's settle the total amount like this. It covers compensation for everything I broke last night. Sound good?"
"You're saying you'll build this ondol thing in exchange for compensating the broken fixtures?"
"Exactly."
Lloyd nodded.
Truth was, the baron's family was drowning in debt.
They could ill afford to pay the tavern owner compensation.
But if he properly commissioned and completed this job?
*The compensation deficit gets neatly wiped out.*
Not just breaking even.
If done right, it'd pile up massive gains.
The starting point for rolling a snowball of huge profits.
That was Lloyd's big picture.
*This is what I'm best at.*
He was a civil engineering major.
He'd studied diligently enough.
Not for grand dreams, of course.
Like anyone, he'd picked a school and major based on his entrance exam scores.
Just putting in the effort to secure good grades for stable employment.
Yet now, that knowledge might prove useful in this world.
*The biggest money's in real estate, especially as a contractor.*
Apartments, buildings, bridges, roads, dams, breakwaters, canals, ports.
Anything built makes bank.
Contractors especially sit on piles of cash.
The bigger the project, the more so.
Lloyd was eyeing that potential.
"So, let's make the deal. What do you say?"
"You'll really..."
"I'll build it, I said. You against it?"
"N-No, not that, but..."
The hesitant tavern owner finally signed the "Ondol Room Commissioning Contract."
Kim Suho, civil engineering student from Korea.
Lloyd, eldest son of the Frontera baron's family.
It was his first commissioned contract in this unfamiliar world.
Small beginnings, but one steady step at a time.
Thus began the momentous first construction project.
♣
"He's an honest and desperate man."
It had been barely a minute since leaving the tavern.
Haviel's voice suddenly broke the silence.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Lloyd turned to see Haviel's face as expressionless as ever.
Or perhaps a chillier cold front was blowing in—maybe just his imagination.
"Someone cornered grows desperate. Their vision narrows, judgment clouds. They become easy prey for the cunning and devious."
"Prey?"
"Indeed."
"Oh, so the tavern owner's the pitiful prey, and I'm the cunning bastard fleecing him?"
"Whether you're cunning or not depends on your actions from here on, Lord Lloyd."
"Hey."
The mood felt icier than usual.
Lloyd finally realized what Haviel was thinking.
"No way. You think I'm scamming the tavern owner?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what?"
"I think you're exploiting a desperate weakling's situation."
*...Same difference.*
Lloyd sighed deeply.
Everything he did since entering this body seemed to breed misunderstandings.
"Let's clarify. You think I won't build that ondol room for him?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Lord Lloyd's never gotten dirt on his hands in his life."
"How do you know?"
"I've heard it everywhere."
"So you haven't seen it yourself. Right?"
"That's true, but."
"You're being unreasonably prejudiced, Haviel."
"Pardon?"
Haviel's picture-perfect brows furrowed ever so slightly for the first time.
Lloyd looked up at Haviel, who was about five centimeters taller, and spoke.
"I'm disappointed, Haviel. You judge people based on rumors?"
"That's..."
"Prejudice."
"..."
"You're doing it now. You saw me draw up the commissioning contract with the tavern owner, right? What do you think I'll do with it?"
"Surely..."
"You figured I'd toss it in a corner and goof off?"
"No."
*No my foot. Nailed it.*
He'd sensed it earlier, but Haviel was terrible at lying.
The guy had a habit of avoiding eye contact when he lied.
He'd just done it again.
"You thought I'd use the contract as an excuse to string him along. Pretend I'd build the ondol someday, delaying compensation for the broken stuff indefinitely."
"I only..."
"That's prejudice. Judging hastily on assumptions. It breeds conflict. Racial discrimination runs rampant. Families shatter. Society crumbles."
Haviel clearly hadn't expected this counterattack.
He fell silent.
He probably thought it sophistry.
Lloyd didn't bother trying to change his mind.
Instead, he jerked his chin at Haviel.
"Anyway, I get your point. Now move aside a bit?"
"Pardon?"
"Two steps to the side. Yeah, there. I'm roughly surveying."
It was true.
Even before Haviel spoke up.
This backyard was the space for the ondol room.
Checking the site came before design and materials.
*It's small-scale anyway, so no need for precision surveying. But the ground's slightly sloped. Gotta raise the site a bit.*
One side of the plot abutted the tavern.
The opposite side had the owner's residence.
The ondol room should go in between.
*Let's check the soil quality.*
Lloyd crouched down.
He examined, touched, and kneaded the dirt where the ondol room would go.
*Brings back school memories.*
Handling soil naturally recalled his soil mechanics lectures.
The course on soil particle volume, voids in soil, and such properties.
How much dirt had he shoveled for it?
And that wasn't all.
He'd dried the collected soil like eraser crumbs.
Rolled it until it crumbled, then rolled again.
Even baked it in ovens, grilled and steamed it.
That experience was proving hugely helpful now.
*This soil's decent enough.*
More than decent.
Despite the dark surface, digging a few centimeters revealed reddish earth.
Loess soil.
*Jackpot.*
Lloyd dusted off his hands and stood.
He met Haviel's oddly intense gaze.
"What. Why."
"..."
"First time seeing someone handle dirt?"
"At least, first time seeing you do it, Lord Lloyd."
"Get used to it. You'll see it plenty from now on."
Haviel's gaze grew even stranger.
Lloyd ignored it and moved on.
He left the site.
He wandered the territory leisurely.
It looked like a casual stroll.
But Lloyd's eyes scanned the terrain everywhere.
Especially the river cutting through the territory's center.
He was scouting spots to excavate loess in bulk.
"Alright, let's head home."
Even back at the mansion, Lloyd didn't slack.
It was his landmark first project.
*Get the first button right, or everything unravels.*
One botched job spreads bad rep.
Then landing the next client gets harder.
Game over from the start.
To avoid that, deliver the best quality he could muster.
*Customer happiness is my paycheck.*
All-nighters were routine.
Hardened by part-time jobs and assignments.
From sunset to dawn, he filled blank paper with blueprints.
Come morning, he sought out the mansion's administrator.
"How much lumber's stockpiled in the warehouse?"
"Pardon?"
It was too early.
The administrator, who hadn't even washed his face let alone eaten breakfast, tilted his head.
Perhaps thinking Lloyd was already drunk this morning.
"What do you need the lumber for?"
"What else? Building. Here."
"This is?"
"Move the amounts listed here to the empty lot behind the village tavern. Got it?"
When doing a job, do it fast.
Like a bulldozer, bold and direct.
Thanks to Lloyd's attitude.
The administrator nodded on reflex.
By lunchtime, the ordered lumber piled up in the tavern backyard.
"Materials are here. Time to start."
He shed his cumbersome outer coat.
In a light shirt, he donned work gloves.
Grabbing a shovel handle too—nothing felt better.
*Did this manual labor to death on every break.*
Even in the military.
Because he was a civil engineering major.
The supply officer called him for every big or small task.
By discharge, he was the company-certified work machine.
*Men are born to dig.*
He started with site leveling.
Dug up earth from beside the yard.
Moved it to the ondol room site.
Each time, he packed it down meticulously and firmly.
*Dump a ton at once and compact, and trouble brews later.*
A common site prep mistake.
Soil compacts well on top.
But not below.
Stack it thick all at once and compact?
The visible top looks solid, but inside stays mushy.
Build on that?
The structure tilts in years, disaster.
Knowing this, Lloyd repeated dig, move, compact.
Then he glanced sidelong at Haviel.
The guy had been standing by since earlier.
Just fulfilling his bodyguard duty, nothing more.
"Hey."
"You called, Lord Lloyd?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Is there work for me?"
"Yeah. Grab a shovel and join me."
"..."
No response from Haviel.
"What, you hate it? That it?"
"..."
"It'd double our pace if you helped dig."
"..."
"Ah, the tavern owner's mother must still be shivering with chills. Sleeping in a warm ondol room would free her from that pain in no time. But for now, impossible. Why? Because noble Sir Asrahan refuses to dig."
"..."
"Ah, toasting in an ondol room would loosen her stiff joints, bloom smiles on her lips. But for now, impossible. Why? Because noble Sir Asrahan refuses to dig."
"..."
"Ah, fulfilling the final humble wish of one with few days left..."
"Sh-Shovel, please."
Finally, unable to endure, Haviel took a shovel.
A wicked grin bloomed on Lloyd's face.
Thus, the baron's wastrel and the nameless knight.
The two men's ondol room construction hit full stride.
Word of it spread like wildfire through every corner of the territory.
(End of Chapter 2)
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