The well was the problem, Kurose Kenji had been thinking for the past three days. The words of the old farmer in Ferden Village—"We need money"—had stuck in his head. Food shortages could be solved through agricultural reform. But before the rural areas came the royal capital. A domain where Prime Minister Valdeus Crawford's gaze didn't easily reach, yet where royal authority could directly intervene—that was the public sanitation of the capital city Weltheim. Agricultural policy fell under the Prime Minister's jurisdiction, Reina Ester had warned. But the management of public wells was classified as "maintaining order in the royal capital." Legally, that was the king's direct domain. The logic held. So he would move. One week after his coronation, Kenji summoned Chief Chamberlain Ehrik in the morning and issued his command. "Renovate the public wells throughout the capital. Issue a royal order for material procurement and recruitment of craftsmen." Ehrik raised his eyebrows for just a moment. But years of habit made him reflexively answer, "As you command." While searching through keywords in his mind, Kenji assembled the design specifications. —Cholera. Transmission route. Contaminated water. Prevention. Results flooded in. Cholera bacteria spread through contaminated water. They died from boiling. Handwashing with soap—made by mixing animal fat and lye—could drastically reduce contact transmission. A simple water purification device using a charcoal layer could physically remove impurities. All of it was basic modern knowledge. And this world had one more variable. --- The morning after construction began, Kenji headed to the site. Beyond Linden Avenue in Weltheim, at the northern end of the Frontier River Market, there were three public wells. The morning market was already bustling with activity. Smoke from food stalls, the smell of fish, merchants calling out—all of it mixed together to create the air along the river. Craftsmen gathered around the wells, working on installing the charcoal purification layer. The structure was exactly as Kenji had specified in the design. Standing there was a man. Thirty-something, with a taciturn impression. His gaze was sharp, but not aggressively so—it was the gaze of someone observing. He wore a coat bearing the royal palace insignia and held a short staff in his right hand. The mark of a court mage. "Linarth," Ehrik introduced. "Our court mage specializing in water attributes." Linarth gave a slight bow but said nothing. Kenji examined the well's rim and spoke. "How far does your water purification magic reach?" "...For a single well like this, it lasts about half a day." "Specifically, what can it remove?" Linarth paused for a moment. "[cold]That falls within the knowledge domain of mages." Kenji looked up. Linarth's eyes were rejecting his question. Mage knowledge was not to be shared outside the order—that was the convention, Ehrik explained later. It was an unwritten rule that knowledge only graduates of the Magic Academy could handle was never disclosed, even to the king. Kenji attempted a search. —Water attribute magic. Purification. Principle. Grandveld. Results: 0 items. Of course. This world's magical system didn't exist on the modern internet. But if he combined physical water purification with magical purification, at least the pathogen removal effect should compound and strengthen—he had sufficient grounds for that assumption. He couldn't prove it, but it was worth trying. "[serious]Use your magic after the charcoal layer. Let magic compensate for what the physical filter can't remove. Try it." Linarth studied the well's design for a while. Then, silently, he raised his staff. The water surface glowed softly. A pale blue light spread, and the water's transparency increased slightly. The smell changed—the muddy river smell faded, leaving only the scent of plain water. Kenji stared at the water's surface. (This is... interesting.) Modern water purification technology and this world's unique magical purification overlapped in a single well. The impurities the charcoal removed and what the magic removed might be different categories. There was a possibility that by combining them, they could reach domains neither alone could touch. Precisely because it didn't show up in searches, it was worth trying. "[serious]...Is there a way to verify the effect?" "[cold]The effects of magic are perceived by the caster." "So it can't be converted to objective numerical values." Linarth didn't answer. That was his answer. Kenji didn't press further. For today, confirming that the combination functioned was enough. The soap workshop installation was still ahead. The mixing ratio of animal fat and lye, heating temperature, pouring into molds—he had all the procedures in his head. One step at a time. --- The day after renovation work began, Kenji traveled to Ferden Village with Reina. Half an hour south of Weltheim by horse. The road at the northern edge of the Millenia Plain was muddy from yesterday's rain. The sound of the horse's hooves splashing through mud continued. The sky was overcast, and the plain's grass looked grayish-green. Kenji stopped once after passing the village entrance. In a corner of a furrow mixed with lime, small green shoots were scattered. Sprouts. Village Chief Bert Hofer approached, scratching his head. Fifty-five years old, a sun-darkened face with deep wrinkles. His expression mixed confusion with embarrassment. "[surprised]...Honestly, I never thought they'd actually come up." "[serious]If the soil composition is right, they naturally will. Did you maintain the mixing ratio?" "We did, thoroughly. Checked multiple times." A young farmer approached. Early twenties, broad-shouldered, with friendly eyes. "[excited]We tried the same thing on the next furrow. Sprouts came up there too." Kenji surveyed the village. The air was slightly different from when he'd visited last week. Children stood in a circle watching him. An old farmer stood at the field's edge with his arms crossed. The "fear-stricken gaze" from that week had vanished from everyone's faces. "I'll explain the next phase." Kenji pulled paper from his pocket. The three-field system—dividing fields into three sections and rotating wheat, legumes, and fallow land year by year. A method tested in medieval Europe that could increase yields by over thirty percent. But the moment he unfolded the paper, the village chief's face fell. "...Well, in our village, only myself and the guild master can read." Literacy rate: fifteen percent. The number from the council meeting report became reality here. Kenji thought for a moment, then crouched down. He picked up a dead branch and began drawing on the soil. Three sections. Arrows. The shape of beans. The shape of wheat. A blank section. "[serious]Year one, plant wheat here. Next year, beans. Year three, let this section rest. Here, here, here—three rotations." The farmers leaned in to look at the drawing. Two children crouched beside Kenji, tracing the drawing with their fingers. "Why do we plant beans?" "Beans return nutrients to the soil. Wheat takes nutrients from the soil. If you alternate, the soil doesn't get exhausted." "Oh." "[serious]Don't throw away the straw. Chop it and mix it back into the soil. That becomes fertilizer." The young farmer raised his hand. "Can we change starting this autumn?" "[serious]You can. If you do it gradually, there's no problem." On the return journey, riding side by side back to Weltheim, Reina spoke. "[gentle]There's talk in the markets. That the young king entered the fields himself." Kenji answered without turning his head. "Is that a tailwind or a problem?" Reina thought for a while before responding. "[serious]The people's expectations are a tailwind. However—for Chancellor Crawford, it's also a warning signal." Both understood the same thing. That understanding was confirmed by a brief silence. --- Deep into the night, the study flickered with only candlelight. Kenji was writing out the soap workshop installation plan in his notebook. The candidate location was an abandoned warehouse at the northern end of the river market—close to the water source and positioned between the market's foot traffic. He wrote out recruitment conditions for craftsmen and material procurement routes, while recalling the scene of Linarth's magic making the water's surface glow. (I want to know more about the principle of that purification.) Asking would yield no answer. Convention was a wall. But he now knew the wall existed. He could think of ways to circumvent it. The door opened. Reina entered carrying a map. As a guard knight, attending the study at night had recently become habit. Her long silver hair was tied back, and she wore a sword for combat at her waist—always ready to move. "I'll consider guard placement for the workshop." She spread the map on the desk. A street map of Weltheim. The candidate location was marked at the northern end of the river market. For a while, both worked in silence. Only the sound of Kenji's pen crossing the notebook and the rustle of Reina turning the map pages could be heard. The candle flame occasionally swayed from the night breeze entering through the window. "Can I ask you something?" Reina looked up. "Why did you become a knight?" It was a question that came out almost casually, between practical confirmations. But Reina's hands stopped for just a moment. Then, keeping her gaze on the map, she began speaking quietly. "[serious]My parents were knights in border defense. When I was seven, they died in the line of duty." Kenji didn't put down his pen. He simply listened. "I was taken in by the royal palace as an orphan and learned swordplay and etiquette in the knight corps' lowest ranks. I remember the day the previous king—King Verner—inspected the training grounds. I fell during practice, and His Majesty personally offered me his hand. Then he ordered the knight commander beside him to formally enlist me." Her tone wasn't sentimental. She was simply laying out facts. Yet—Kenji understood. The weight of that single command still formed the foundation of Reina's loyalty. "That's where it began?" "[serious]...I think that's when the meaning of the words 'I understand my duty' was born in me." Kenji stared at the candle flame for a while. (A response to having someone's hand extended to you.) He hadn't started moving because he was ordered. The moment he saw the child's thin arm in Ferden Village, his body moved on its own. When the old farmer first spoke to him as "someone to think alongside"—that sensation... There was something similar, Kenji thought. He didn't voice it. Reina had already turned her gaze back to the map. "[serious]The northern end of the river market is closer to the water source than the eastern warehouse." "[serious]Yes, that's right." He opened his notebook again. The pen moved. The same motions as before, yet the quality of the study's air had subtly changed. --- Reina left for her scheduled patrol. Kenji left the study and headed deeper into the corridor. To the study of the previous king, Verner—to check on that drawer he'd touched on the night of his coronation, the one that sent an electric shock through him when he touched its sealing wax. He wanted to consider whether the seal could be moved elsewhere. He entered the study with a candelabra. A dark stone room. The wall tapestries didn't move. The windows were closed. He opened the drawer. It was empty. Kenji stared at the empty drawer for a while. No documents, no talismans, not even a fragment of sealing wax. Only a wooden box sat there. Someone had taken it. That sealing wax—it had sent an electric current through him just from touching it. Sealing magic. Only a limited number of people in this palace could break such a se