Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Gordon had slept soundly all night and was starving; he desperately needed a breakfast to wake him up.

The food along the Blackwater River is grayish-white, wet, and occasionally bites. The food on the dining table is golden, hot, and only meant to be eaten. The difference is huge.

After he sat down, beautiful candied fruit, hot chocolate, and roasted bird quickly appeared before him. Even the butter looked like a molten gold brick in the sunlight.

Next, the servant brought out a huge pie, its crust baked to a deep golden color, with its edges rolled up in circles.

Gordon looked up with delight, but as soon as his gaze focused, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the dazzling information that appeared word by word.

Looking up at the starry sky, a dead fish head pierces through the dough, gazing at the heavens; despair and pain are frozen on the dough. You wonder if this is a dish or a sacrificial ritual of esoteric Buddhism...

Gordon silently shifted his gaze from the fish head, picked up his teacup, at least the teacup wouldn't be staring at him.

"This tea is really good." Gordon handed it to Vera, who was then sent to her stomach without parole.

"The best Darjeeling." Charlotte, sitting diagonally opposite, had changed into a light gold morning dress, her hair was freshly combed, and she exuded a youthful yet noble aura.

Gordon nodded slightly. He actually only gleaned two pieces of information from the drink: it was hot and very expensive.

Gray was also present.

He charged a high price, taking 20 gold pounds from the Earl without doing anything, and it was non-refundable. Now, helping the Earl clear out some breakfast stock is just an extension of his dedication.

Of course, he knew he wasn't the star of the show.

Vera took the plate of fish head pie that Gordon didn't want to touch and devoured it in a whirlwind.

"..." Earl Montfort's hand froze in mid-air.

He had seen royal banquets, naval officers competing in drinking contests, and sailors stuffing live octopuses into their mouths to show off their courage. But this Source Hunter named Vera was on a completely different level...

No wonder His Majesty restricts the activities of Source Hunters. If she were to go to a colony where food is only given by the weather, she would cause a food crisis on the entire island.

  

Gray looked at Vera for a while, and finally asked the question on behalf of everyone.

"Miss Cartrett, I truly hope that you only killed those Deepclaws yesterday, and not just...eaten them along the way," he said.

Everyone listened intently, eager to hear the answer to this question.

"I usually only eat things that have lost their human form and humanity," Vera said, looking up from her busy schedule.

"You know, these words aren't as reassuring as you might think," Gray sighed.

When no one was looking, Charlotte quietly pushed the jar of jam toward Gordon, her movement so natural that it seemed as if the jar of raspberry jam had simply gotten lost and ended up in Gordon's hands.

"You look like you've had a good rest," Charlotte smiled at Gordon.

"Of course!" Gordon spread jam on his bread. "I feel like there won't be any more troubles in the world."

The Earl noticed that Charlotte was smiling more than usual today. Before, she would either remain silent or complain about how boring school was, how dull the professors were, and how her classmates were just sycophants, like pigeons waiting to eat breadcrumbs.

Now it seems that there are more things at school that she cares about, and her smile is a genuine smile, an expression that even the Earl himself has forgotten how to make.

"I had meetings all day yesterday," Earl Montfort said slowly, wiping his mouth. "The Ministry of Finance, the River Management Bureau, the Health Commission, and the Port Authority—they argued for a long time. But we finally have a budget for the Blackwater River's management."

To manage the Blackwater River.

Gordon's heart skipped a beat.

These words are more invigorating than black tea.

The Blackwater River is a rotten plate that Lundnim has left on the table but no one wants to take it away. No matter how many solutions there are, it will always get stuck in a big problem: who will pay for it?

"What's your budget?"

"His Majesty the Emperor has lost patience and has granted 100 million pounds sterling, without specifying how the money should be spent, only saying that he wants to see results," the Earl said.

One million pounds.

Charlotte has begun to imagine an island with a castle overlooking the blue sea, where servants bring her iced grape juice.

Gray imagined himself spending lavishly at the Source Auction, crossing the threshold of a fourth-tier hunter, his enemies fleeing Lundnium overnight, and the world opening its doors to him.

Gordon's mind was always filled with images of fried steak and an envelope.

The million gold pounds certainly wouldn't belong to him, but such a large sum of money, passing through the bureaucratic system of the Logris Empire, would definitely change the fate of many people and create many nouveau riche overnight.

Vera was the only one at the table who knew nothing.

"I mean, how many sausages would that be?" she asked.

"If we have to calculate it that way, it's 1 million." Gordon sighed.

"So big?" Vera held up her index finger.

"It's so big," Gordon said, pointing to his arm.

"Count me in. Where to start? The Blackwater River is my greatest enemy now," Vera said.

Gordon thought for a moment. The Blackwater River contained everything: otherworldly beings, industrial pollution, cultists, fishmongers…

"There's no such thing as 'where to begin,'" the Count sneered. "The Blackwater River flows through the entirety of Lundnium. Everyone claims to have only thrown a little, every workshop says it hasn't discharged much, and every ship boasts that its cargo holds are clean. If we're going to clean it up, what's the justification? Environmental protection?"

Charlotte gently stroked the handle of the glass with her fingertips. She knew this was no ordinary task.

The Blackwater River is now a stinking cesspool breeding otherworldly demons, and nobody wants to look at it again.

"But it's not 'completely over' either," Gordon said.

All eyes around the dining table turned to look at them.

"What I mean is, no one can completely clean up the Blackwater River, nor is it necessary. We just need to show the Emperor some progress. Less pollution, rows of demon corpses, no more overcrowded hospital beds, smoother shipping, more beautiful scenery, and no one will vomit after standing by the river for ten minutes... Whoever can produce a comparison report will earn His Majesty's approval."

The count silently wrote these words down.

Gordon continued, "Even better, we could specifically choose a model section of the river. When foreign diplomats visit, or during the World Expo, let reporters report on how clean and quiet it is... As for what to do with the other sections, that would be a perfect excuse to request the next round of funding."

The count nodded in satisfaction.

Yes, that's the direction.

Instead of treating a difficult problem as a problem, one should only care about what His Majesty the Emperor will see and what the media will report. That's what it means to have a clear vision.

But the count cannot boast.

Absolutely do not praise!

Once it's said, Charlotte's eyes will definitely light up, she'll be arranging a wedding seating chart in her head, and the Earl of Montfort will be relegated to the position of "reluctantly agreeing but very touched" father.

No!

"Perhaps. Perhaps," said the Earl of Montfort, "that's one direction."

"Where did this million pounds come from?" Charlotte asked astutely.

"You'll see that from the bread prices," said Earl Montfort.

"It's not important, all of this is still too dangerous." Gray shook his head. "The Blackwater River is not only inhabited by Deepclaw Demons, but also by Dragon Lizard Demons, Poisonous Eel Demons, and Giant Claw Demons. There are Sea Dragon Demons at the river mouth, and there are also monsters called [Tess] that only appear during heavy rain. You have no idea... To truly control the Blackwater River, we need a master to oversee it."

Gordon took a sip of tea. Gray was right.

That feeling last night was too dangerous.

He stood on the shore, watching his judgment become reality, watching the monster turn into money.

It was fascinating. It was also terrifying.

If a person is consistently successful, it's easy to forget that they will eventually die. And if something happens, the newspaper will only have a short headline: "College Student Drowns While Drunk, Body Still Not Found." If the reporter investigates thoroughly enough, they might add a line like, "Suspected Cause: Excessive Student Loan Pressure."

……

After the meal, the sound of servants clearing away the plates could be heard in the distance.

The Earl kept Gordon behind.

"The first lesson is about to begin," Gordon said. "I hope I can..."

"I want to know the truth," said Earl Montfort.

Gordon nodded. Sometimes it's okay to be vague, but sometimes you have to lay all the cards on the table.

"As mentioned before, it's directional induction. But this time, my experimental material is the [extract] from the Silver Fish Box. This box is definitely closely related to the fate of the entire Blackwater River... and the matter of governing the Blackwater River, and it's in your collection room." Gordon explained in detail.

"Extractants." The count caught a word that clearly made him uncomfortable.

Aristocratic collections can have patina, history, and a mysterious provenance, but they should ideally not have any exudates, just like his lover should never have any "seepage" unless he does it himself.