The road was bumpy, the wind dry, and the sun merciless. Yet a young man with tousled blond hair marched on, boots scuffed, tools clinking faintly in his satchel with every step toward Waisz’ Estate.

“I swear,” he muttered, brushing sweat off his forehead, “one day the world will know the name Eugene Robert... the greatest magic engineer to ever live!”

Before him stretched a serene lake, its still surface reflecting the evening sky. Blue and white lights shimmered gently across the water, and fireflies danced freely above, casting a soft glow on passing canoes. Couples could be seen leaning into one another, whispering and laughing in their private worlds.

Eugene grimaced.

“Damn couples. Everywhere I go, they're infecting the scenery,” he grumbled. “Can’t you people give a lonely man a moment of peace?”

He plopped down on a rock near the lake’s edge, pulling out a small bronze cog that had been hanging around his neck and fiddling with it, trying to distract himself from the romance soaked air.

“Who would've thought this backwater village had scenery like this?” he admitted, glancing up at the shimmering lake. But just as he started to enjoy the view, a couple drifted by, flirting shamelessly in their canoe.

Eugene sighed, casting his gaze downward.

“It'd be perfect... if they weren’t ruining it.”

He wasn’t here for sightseeing. Eugene often passed by this village on his trade routes to Bellmarch. His grandfather, Jean Robert, had been a renowned clockmaker and, once, a magic engineer during his prime. But now...

“Magic engineering...” Eugene whispered. “People don’t value it anymore. Not in a world where magic is everywhere. Why bother with machines when you can cast a spell?”

He looked at his hands, scarred, calloused, persistent.

“...Because not all of us are born with great mana aptitude.”

Magic engineering had become a field for the mana deficient. For commoners. For people like Eugene. And now, with his grandfather gone just over a week ago, there was no one left to guide or protect him.

The silence in the old workshop still clung to him. Every clink of metal in his satchel reminded him of the tools his grandfather once wielded with steady hands.

Just a few days ago, Eugene had found himself in a much less hopeful state, hunched over a bar counter at a dusty tavern on the outskirts of Verrin.

A few days ago, in a tavern outskirts of the Verrin and Erdal village. The tavern buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of roasted meat. There, a blonde guy was walking to the counter with redness under his eyes.

"Boss, the usual," Eugene said as he dropped into his seat at the inn.

“Here’s your apple juice, kid,” the innkeeper teased, sliding the drink over with a grin.

“Hey! I’m not a kid anymore. Gimme beer,” Eugene protested with a scowl.

“You’ll get beer when you stop looking like a walking mop. Anyway, sorry about your gramps. It’s on the house tonight. Drink all you want.”

Eugene stared at the glass, lips twitching.

“Damn old man... How could you just leave me like this? Couldn’t even leave me a fortune or something?”

He knew it was a cruel thought, but grief made monsters of all men.

Then, a voice from the corner of the tavern spoke up.

“Hey, kiddo. You heard? Waisz Estate is under development again. Might be worth checking out. Could be job openings.”

Eugene looked up. The speaker was a middle aged farmer with a proud mustache.

“My daughter passed by there selling our crops to Bellmarch,” the man said, beaming. “She said there’s a magical lake and a shrine that grants blessings. Been married two years, no kids, suddenly pregnant after a visit.”

The room chuckled and offered congratulations.

Then a burly lumberjack from Erdal joined in. “Yeah, I went myself. Had a shoulder injury from a tree accident years ago. Constant pain, no strength.”

He took a long swig of beer.

“I thought Waisz’s son was just desperate when he came looking for carpenters and laborers. Most of us refused, the place was poor, and hardly any tenants left. But a few of us with injuries took the offer since it's a job that injured people like us can take.”

He leaned forward.

“First thing we did? Rebuild the shrine. Got stationed near it. There was this unpleasant smell... like rotten eggs. Then we saw the hot spring behind the shrine.”

“And let me guess,” Eugene interrupted with a grin. “A dark haired girl comes out with a pot, mutters some spell, and boils you all like stew?”

The room laughed.

The lumberjack grinned. “Something like that. A girl came out with brown, dark hair with a clipboard. She called our names, had us soak in the hot spring. Thought it was nuts, but... the moment I dipped in, it was like heaven. My shoulder felt brand new.”

He stretched his arm dramatically.

“Three days of soaking, and I felt like I was in my twenties again. I tried to go back before leaving, but it was already packed. Now I’m heading home to drag my family back for a vacation.”

Eugene’s eyes gleamed. A magical place... a job opportunity... and a chance to make money?

He stood up suddenly.

“Oii, Granny! I’m heading out to Waisz’s Estate to see it for myself!”

The innkeeper glared. “I’m not even fifty yet, you brat! And my body’s still in top shape!”

She tossed a rolled up notice toward him. “Take this. It was posted a few days ago.”

Eugene caught it. A recruitment flyer. His eyes scanned the text quickly.

“Hmm... engineers needed... renovation underway... decent pay...”

He grinned.

“Looks like it’s time for Eugene Robert to make his first mark on history.”

As Eugene walked down the main road into the Waisz estate, something caught his eye. A newly constructed checkpoint building is near the entrance gate.

“…This wasn’t here before,” he muttered.

A guard standing beside the gate overheard and answered casually, “Yeah, it’s new. The landowner’s son is redeveloping this place. Everyone who passes through now needs an entry pass.”

“Entry pass? What kind of nonsense is that?” Eugene groaned, dragging his feet. “This is such a pain…”

The guard simply pointed to a nearby board. Eugene’s eyes followed and landed on a large notice posted at the front:

ENTRY PASS TYPES 
Issued by the Gatehouse Authority – All entrants must comply

 Visitor Entry Pass

Requirements:

   - Lodging confirmation

   - Reason for visit

Special Rules:
   - No trade or employment allowed

   - Must renew at the Gatehouse after 30 days (Bronze 3 only)

   - The pass can be changed or renewed at the Gatehouse

 Merchant Entry Pass

Requirements:

   - Inventory ledger

   - Carriage manifest

   - Trade license from the Merchant Guild

Spoilage Clause: All goods assumed perishable, overstay results in disposal or penalty.

Labor/Service Pass

Tag: Iron Plate

Valid For: 7 days to 3 months
Purpose: Temporary work (construction, farming, festival)
Requirements:

   - Labor contract filed with the Estate Authority
   - Recruitment document or poster
   - Health inspection (done at the Gate Health Department)

Special Rules:
   - Bound to the assigned sector
   - The pass is revoked if the contract is broken or abandoned

“Whoa…” Eugene’s eyes widened. “For a backwater estate, this system’s impressive. Prevents overcrowding, keeps freeloaders out, and even tracks overstays... The guy running this place isn’t just some dumb kid.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he stepped forward and handed the job recruitment poster to the man at the counter.

The clerk took it with a quick glance. “Labor Pass application? One moment.” He scribbled down Eugene’s information.

Eugene’s attention drifted to another counter nearby. A line had formed there. Curious, he leaned toward the man.

“What’s that line for?”

“Currency exchange,” the clerk replied.

“Currency?” Eugene blinked. “What the hell is that?”

The clerk chuckled. “We don’t use raw gold or silver here. Everything inside the estate is traded using paper currency, called W.O.N.”

Eugene raised an eyebrow.

“Wait... ‘WON’? What’s that?”

“It stands for ‘Waisz Only Notes.’ Usable only within the estate,” the clerk replied.

“Wait... isn’t that a scam?” Eugene said, eyes narrowing.

“It’s actually the opposite,” the clerk said calmly. “It prevents robbery and theft. All your valuables, gold, silver, etc., are stored in secure vaults under estate guard. You receive paper notes equal in value, and you can exchange them back when you leave.”

He continued, “Makes daily transactions lighter and safer. Less coin pouch snatching, too.”

Eugene scratched his head. “So I give you real gold... and you give me fake money I can only use here.”

“That ‘fake money’ ensures you don’t lose your life savings to a pickpocket,” the clerk countered smoothly. “Also, carrying around bags of gold is asking for trouble. This system keeps everything accountable.”

Though skeptical, Eugene was intrigued.

“Alright... I’ll exchange just a little. Just in case.”

He pulled out a few coins and handed them to the currency counter. The woman behind the desk offered him a clipboard.

“That’ll be 1 gold for account creation,” she said.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Eugene yelped. “Just to create an account?! Are you robbing me?!”

She calmly explained, “It covers your personal vault registration, administrative processing, ledger tracking, and first time security setup. After this, future exchanges only cost 1 bronze per transaction.”

He grumbled but reluctantly handed it over.

Nothing’s free in this world, huh...

She handed him a neat stack of paper notes marked with “W.O.N..” in stylized letters.

Eugene wandered deeper into the estate, watching people bustling about. Tourists, laborers, merchants. It was lively, structured, and far more developed than he’d imagined.

After spending some money, he took a rest at a nearby shop, wondering.

“Alright, let’s see what this so called W.O.N. is worth…”

“Bread loaf, 2 won… That’s what, two bronze coins? Not bad. Cheaper than the city.”

“Hearty tavern meal, 10 won... Only a big bronze. That’s practically a feast for pocket change.”

“Iron axe... 20 won. Two big bronzes. Not bad for basic tools. Could probably flip that for profit elsewhere if they let me.”

“Inn stay, 100 won. One silver for a night under a roof. That's not too bad, does it come with food?”

Eugene crossed his arms, brow furrowed but lips twitching into a grin.

“If this place runs on this system, then... yeah, I could make things work here. Lower cost of living, new development, plenty of openings. I just need to find a way to wedge myself into something profitable.”

He glanced at his folded stack of W.O.N.

A week had passed since Eugene arrived at the Waisz Estate.

Now, he sat slumped on a wooden bench by the lake, his posture wilted like a forgotten daisy. The evening breeze stirred the water, sending ripples across its glassy surface. In the distance, a couple laughed quietly in a canoe, again.

He sighed.

“I swear... I’ve only been here a few days, but lately, I’ve been having it rough.”

He tilted his head back and stared at the sky, as if hoping it would open up and drop answers on his face.

“Is this place not for me?” he pondered while his mind recalled all those recent memories.

TO BE CONTINUED ~