Even a wasteland can become a major city if it has something special.

    Take Detroit, a mining town with nothing but coal during the American Westward Expansion, or Los Angeles, which is practically a desert but was rich in gold.

    My territory, the village of Bio, also needs a unique business to thrive, just like those cities.

    That''s why I chose seaweed.

    “The village is too small to make salt, and it doesn’t offer much of a competitive edge compared to rock salt.”

    In fantasy novels, people might rave about how amazing solar salt is, but that only really applies to places like Korea, China, and Japan, where rock salt isn’t readily available.

    In Northeast Asia, people have to go through the trouble of boiling seawater to get salt.

    But on the Almania continent, we have vast salt mines everywhere, so solar salt isn’t necessarily more productive.

    On the other hand, I can maintain a monopoly on seaweed for quite some time.

    It won’t be easy for anyone to steal the cultivation technique.

    Plus, once we start harvesting, we can get huge quantities at low cost every year, which means I’ll be rolling in money through volume sales.

    “Like those damn Lowlanders who made a fortune selling tulips endlessly... I’ll do the same with seaweed...”

    As I was lost in thought, someone tapped my shoulder.

    I turned around to see the Duke standing there.

    “Your Grace.”

    “What’s got you so deep in thought? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about your new maid?”

    The Duke isn’t the type to waste time probing into my personal matters like that.

    But, given that I brought Chloe with me on this visit, someone in his household must have mentioned it to him.

    It shows that I rank pretty high on his list of priorities.

    “Finally acting like a boy your age, I see.”

    There are three main reasons why the Duke would joke like this.

    First, because he feels a genuine sense of camaraderie and wants to tease me.

    Second, to express that sentiment openly. And lastly, to let the servants in the mansion know that he values me, Fabio, highly.

    The last reason is the most important one.

    ‘This story will spread across the Duke’s faction by tonight.’

    Therefore, I mustn’t react too seriously to this joke.

    By 21st-century standards, this would be considered sexual harassment, but here, it’s the Duke’s way of showing friendly concern.

    “I haven’t even held a girl’s hand, but being around such a beauty all the time...”

    “As a man, what’s there to worry about? Back in my day...”

    The Duke spent about three minutes advising me that it’s best to be manly and just take her to bed.

    I’m no saint, and honestly, the temptation is there.

    Chloe is mine, and I have the power and money to do as I please.

    But I don’t intend to do that.

    Using power to exploit the weak isn’t something I can justify as a 21st-century Korean.

    ‘This is a line I won’t cross.’

    “Sorry, Fabio. Seeing young men like you reminds me of my younger days.”

    “Thank you for your concern, Your Grace. I actually came here to offer you a special herb from the East that I discovered in my village.”

    I handed him a dried piece of seaweed in an elegantly ornate box.

    The Duke’s eyes widened as soon as he received it.

    Wealthy old men always light up when it comes to health-related items.

    “What’s in here doesn’t look particularly impressive. Just some dried plant scraps?”

    “That’s what I thought at first. But this seaweed resembles an Eastern medicinal herb that I read about in my family’s records. I even tested its efficacy.”

    “This isn’t a special discount for you, Your Grace.”

    In my village, people see seaweed as seaweed and avoid it even during a famine.

    So the cost of goods is basically zero.

    But add in the marketing strategies and a little manipulation of statistics...?

    ‘The Duke probably thinks it’s cheap even at five gold coins.’

    Poorer nobles might think differently, but no one would skimp on postpartum seaweed.

    Now that I have his interest, it’s time to reveal the truth.

    “Your Grace, this seaweed isn’t a miraculous herb. It’s merely a common seaweed that grows on the seashore.”

    The Duke’s face showed clear irritation.

    “But its effects are genuine. In the East, it’s indeed used as a tonic for new mothers.”

    “So you didn’t lie?”

    “I’ve always said that my principle is to live long and prosper. I’m well aware of my position, and I would never dream of lying to Your Grace. That’s why I’m sharing my trade secrets with you now.”

    I plan to live a long, profitable life.

    I want to be able to hold Chloe close and enjoy a lifestyle I never could in Korea.

    And I need to live long enough to see how far I can climb with my abilities.

    “Seaweed is a special tonic for postpartum recovery. To prevent maternal deaths, the delivery environment and the mother must be thoroughly cleaned.”

    In medieval times, most childbirth deaths occurred from infections due to unclean conditions.

    “That’s why even the Bible instructs us to wash, because it’s good for you.”

    Many diseases can be avoided simply by washing well.

    Modern medicine has proven that truth.

    “I’ve tested these principles in my domain, and the results are overwhelmingly positive. Your Grace, I ask for your support.”

    The Duke chuckled at my words.

    “What would you like me to do?”

    “Please spread the word about my hospital among the nobles. If things go wrong, I’ll take full responsibility with my life.”

    Currently, the maternal death rate is around 10%.

    If we can reduce it even by 2%, our hospital will be regarded as excellent.

    After all, for someone giving birth, that 2% could mean the world.

    If we manage to bring it down to 1%, not going to our hospital would be seen as foolish.

    “To the first noble you introduce, I’ll provide free services for all aspects of childbirth and a 40% discount on seaweed.”

    If the Duke recommends it and it saves a life, nobles will owe him a significant political favor.

    It’s an attractive proposition for a man eager to topple Sforza.

    “One question.”

    The Duke looked me in the eye.

    “Are you truly willing to risk your life?”

    “Yes.”

    “Good, but let’s do it this way.”

    The Duke drafted a contract on the spot.

    “If things go wrong, you don’t need to die. Just give me your life and soul, and dedicate yourself to the eternal glory of House Visconti.”

    “It is my duty as your loyal servant, Your Grace.”

    And so, I signed without hesitation.

    The Duke soon sent his cousin’s daughter to my hospital.

    Naturally, she gave birth safely.

    The nobles, ever interested in childbirth, began to rave about the news.