Ingrad? Is That Something You Eat? A Noble… Me?! (10)

After stocking up solidly on magic-power and mana recovery pills, I left the manor in the afternoon and visited the fox Beastkin’s house under construction at the gate.

It looked plain and boring.

Her family already seemed excited to move in. I saw them touring the house and picking out which rooms they’d use. Unlike the family, who tensed up when they saw me, the fox Beastkin woman—the one who had spoken with me yesterday—welcomed me and bowed.

“Welcome, my lord.”

To a human like me, a mother bowing looked awkward and maybe even distasteful to them, but work came first.

“Have you thought about how you want it decorated?”

At my question, she carefully handed me a sheet of paper. I hadn’t expected a drawing in place of words. Taking it, I saw clear traces of erasing and redrawing.

“First, for the floor, I’d like a non-slip pattern like this drawing. Yesterday I was so happy I wandered around and nearly slipped.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea. You don’t plan to live sitting on the floor, right?”

“Pardon? It’s probably best not to sit on the floor… right?”

The children had already claimed the floor and were playing together, but I ignored that and spoke to the fox Beastkin woman.

“Then I’ll start with the floor. Could you all step outside for a moment?”

“Ah, yes! Kalbeu, Dian, Sol, Urua—out you go. Quickly!”

At their mother’s request, the children shot me disgruntled looks, then filed out. I still wasn’t used to those gazes.

A deeply rooted distrust of humans—children might not feel it yet, but the hostility born of emotions passed mouth-to-mouth among adults had clearly rubbed off.

It was something to set right, and it would be hard work. At least they weren’t actively hostile.

“So… the floor first?”

Since it was simple, I tried using Construction while standing, without touching the ground—and it worked. Good to know I didn’t have to put my hands on the floor; it saved face.

I imagined the floor pattern she wanted and set the rise to a certain height. Confirming that a blue glow covered the entire floor, I invoked Construction. As magic power and mana drained away, the floor swelled up, taking shape.

The pattern she wanted was engraved as a relief, and it looked quite convincing.

“Amazing…”

I heard Beastkin behind me gasp in admiration. But I wasn’t done.

I had thought about the exterior: the most common cladding back on Earth in Korea—“brick pattern.” I etched a brick motif over the outer walls. It didn’t take much power and was easy, and the once-plain façade became interesting. Everyone ran their hands over the walls with curious eyes.

“How are the floor and the exterior I had in mind?”

“They’re… wonderful. Are we really allowed to have this?”

“Please do. But I have one request.”

At my words, the fox Beastkin’s family looked at me as if to say “here it comes,” their stares prickling, and the fox woman asked,

“What is it?”

“I need you to become official citizens of the territory.”

“Official… citizens? What changes if we do?”

“Mm, not much. You live as you do now, but you file to be recognized as ‘territory citizens’ and always carry a tag proving Ingrad citizenship. Lastly, if danger threatens the fief, you help actively.”

“I’ve heard humans collect taxes. If we become citizens, won’t we be taxed?”

“Normally, yes—but frankly I’m not money-hungry. I won’t collect it. Instead, I plan to sell medicine. You’ll barter the herbs I need, and that’s the profit I take. I’ve heard you haven’t been keen on gathering herbs anyway—so consider it a simple labor exchange: become my citizens and trade those herbs for my medicine, leaving me a little margin.”

It was a long explanation. Some Beastkin tilted their heads, but the fox woman’s family proved sharper than expected.

“Then we’ll become citizens. What procedures are there?”

I wore a gentle smile, keeping the sour one inside.

“First, stop by the manor and give your details to Vincent. He’ll issue you a wooden tag proving citizenship; with that, registration is basically done. Then you’ll be my first citizens.”

“The first… citizens. All right. This is more than we deserve, and I felt burdened—but if that repays it… we’ll gladly comply.”

Her family looked unhappy, but the fox woman gave a firm answer. Long live the matrilineal order!

Judging the workload, I accepted two more families and quickly raised two more houses along the manor wall.

One of the families was a bear Beastkin household.

Perhaps they already knew the fox family—they asked to build right next door, and watching the kids from the two families get along made the work feel worthwhile.

“Hum-hum. So the lord is our neighbor now?”

I chuckled at the bear Beastkin’s words and said,

“Aren’t you going herb-gathering?”

“Hum-hum, I am. My wife’s on me about it. Even two bodies wouldn’t be enough.”

I crouched to meet the eyes of the two little ones clinging to his legs and asked,

“What are your names, young ladies?”

“Jureua!”

“Sureua!”

They answered in unison—adorable, not even waist-high, yet I had the feeling they’d overpower me if they charged. Not that I’d lose… and I had no intention of fighting anyway. Better to win them over.

From my dimensional pouch I took out two candies I’d made for just such occasions and pressed one into each hand.

“Savor them—and don’t forget to brush your teeth after. Teeth can rot.”

“Teeth… rot?”

“Teeth… lose?”

At their sweet questions, I looked up at the bear Beastkin, who gazed down at them with doting eyes, and cautioned him,

“They’re very sweet—‘candy.’ After they finish, have them rinse several times or brush. Otherwise they’ll get cavities.”

“…Understood. Sweet, you say… how sweet?”

Maybe because he was a bear Beastkin, the word “sweet” made him perk up. I handed him one as well. With both children already wide-eyed and sucking their candies, I had to retreat under three intent stares.

It was nearly evening already. Time to head back. After saying goodbye to the Beastkin, I returned to the manor.

“You’re quite late for supper. Since you wished for everyone to dine together, they’re all waiting—please, this way.”

I apologized to Vincent and went to the dining room, where everyone was already seated, and apologized again and again.

The dinner was properly satisfying.

We had all sorts of conversations. Watching the maids and Vincent chat about little things, I felt the distance narrow a bit, and I ended the pleasant meal relieved.

Then, just as I was about to spend an ordinary night—having silently apologized to the maids who seemed disappointed not to receive Fatigue Recovery Tonics—the door burst open. An all-too-familiar scent drifted in, and three women with ragged breathing appeared. My heart sank.

“…Where… did you get that?”

“Hah… wh-what is this feeling…?”

“My lord… my lord…”

“I—it’s hot. My body feels like it’ll burn… so hot.”

All three wore nightclothes. They must have been roommates. It seemed they had swiped the magic-infused scar-erasing gel while “tidying” the workshop earlier and applied it.

This was bad.

“Good grief—handling three at once is… tough.”

I didn’t dislike the situation. Even if they interrogated me in the morning, they’d have no case: they had stolen and used my property on their own.

So there was no issue of fault—but the real problem was whether I could handle it.

After Jesia’s shocking incident the other day, I had resolved to be careful. But what was done was done, and they had come to me.

With Vincent here in the manor, three maids showing up like this was already a very serious problem.

“At this rate I’ll be… drained to death.”

At the sudden thought my skin crawled—and the fellow that had begun to rise slowly subsided. Just then, the maid in front flung off her nightgown, stalked toward me in her underwear, and—

Her eyes were already glazed.

The scar gel on her face had half-set and was about to peel—making her look like a “zombie,” and her movements matched the image.

The maid behind her, the one who kept calling to me pleadingly, moved much the same. Amusingly, the last one—who seemed to have applied the least—quietly closed the door and even slid the latch, wearing a determinedly calm face.

How methodical of them, hunting their lord.
Ah, gods. Today was a day to beware of “death by overexertion.”

Resigned, I spread my arms and squeezed my eyes shut. At that moment, the three women lunged—as quick as a blink—and deft fingers stripped away my clothes.

Each pressed her body against me—one guided me with her hands, another pressed my hand to her chest, another… took me into her mouth—and the room began to grow feverishly hot.

“Fine—whatever. I’m the one being pounced on here… that’s how it is!”