“It suits you.”
The watch’s overall design was taken from the magic circle that went inside it. Of course, there were parts I omitted so you couldn’t properly infer the circle just by looking at the design, and parts I deliberately stretched. The result was a watch that meant absolutely nothing in magical terms, but looked great as a piece of design.
I was extremely pleased that the watch, finished with my design, fit the prince perfectly.
The drafts that kept coming out were so hideous I couldn’t bear to look at them, so I’d finally rolled up my sleeves. I could see exactly why the watchmakers the prince had secured had been on the verge of shutting down. Their machining skills weren’t bad, but their design sense was awful.
The 128-diamond watch was only for the prince, and the most expensive product sold to the public was made with sixty-four diamonds. Of course, they also had an entry-level line where the diamonds weren’t attached to the exterior. Beautiful and not troublesome, the watches quickly became a hot topic.
“Here. This is the statement you’ll be receiving.”
Once watch sales were on track, the prince actually handed me a truly long statement. I’d already guessed it wasn’t a bill I had to pay, so I could accept it with a broad smile.
“My God.”
But the moment I saw the numbers on that long statement, I couldn’t help blurting it out.
“Kind and merciful Duke.”
“So the more digits the number has, the more words you use to describe me.”
“Kind and merciful and brilliant Duke.”
I could only blame my lack of vocabulary for not being able to come up with even more colorful modifiers.
That was how big the amount was. Every single element I’d meddled with had come back as money.
The best part was the very last line.
“Kind and merciful and brilliant and handsome Duke, the watch truly suits you.”
Even my design had been converted into money and returned to me—and the amount was big enough to justify adding one more modifier. It was enough to change the number of digits in the total.
Even if the watch business revived Wesel’s local economy—the prince’s foundation—and raised the value of his name, it wasn’t welcomed by everyone. I’d expected it, but sure enough, some nobles were negative about the prince’s watch business.
Another name for nobles was people who didn’t work. Literally, they didn’t work. At least, not on the surface. The traditional source of noble income was real estate. They leased out land passed down for generations and lived off the returns.
They criticized the prince for building a business with his own hands.
Not all nobles lived well—how could they? Some failed at investments, some got scammed, some squandered without a plan and lost their fortunes.
And there were also those who didn’t invest, didn’t get scammed, and didn’t live extravagantly—yet still lost their wealth while staying in place, because they didn’t match the flow of an era where industry was rising.
The ones who raised their voices most loudly against the prince’s business were exactly those nobles who were sliding into ruin like that.
From a declining household, dressed in worn clothing, preaching that working would drag noble dignity into the dirt—those words weren’t going to make anyone’s ears itch.
When there are people falling behind and collapsing, there are always others who are sensitive to the flow of the times.
Once it became common to hear stories of tourists coming for a watch that could only be bought in Wesel, and rumors spread widely that the prince would release the watches in the capital as well, they started licking their lips.
Nobles like that didn’t just lease prime land—they installed a front man and got directly involved in business, and all of them had a hand in the jewelry market.
It couldn’t be helped.
I’d experienced it too, but magic really was the god of machines itself—deus ex machina. It could cover up immature technology and make it look convincing.
In the end, to make a product worth using, you needed magic—and for that, jewels were essential.
The jewelers who came and went from the prince’s study wanted one thing. The right to sell the watches.
The rumor that the watches would be released in the capital had been planted on purpose. The capital’s jewelers had the whites of their eyes showing, but there would be no stock allocated to them.
With his business sense, the prince was, of course, planning to run directly managed stores. This wasn’t even something I needed to open my mouth about. The moment he heard that some watchmaker, claiming it was “for repair,” had completely ruined a watch, the prince himself said he would sell only through directly managed stores—for strict quality control and reliable repair guarantees.
He also didn’t forget consideration for Wesel, which would lose its exclusive selling rights.
“If we sell watches in the capital, Norverten, Wesel’s tourist numbers will drop. I need to come up with a countermeasure, so people in tourism won’t resent me. How about we make a line sold only in Wesel? We could use amethyst as the decorative stone, and it might be good to have a design that embodies Wesel’s symbol—the lake.”
It made me suspicious that the prince might have a past life on Earth like me. But the memory of him drinking coffee without cutting it out quickly killed that suspicion. Which left one conclusion: the prince was simply good at applying things.
Compared to the nobles who foamed at the mouth asking how the prince could possibly do business, or who hid and only sent agents, the prince was clearly an outstanding person. You could call him reckless, but still.
What the prince wanted from the jewelers was a stable diamond supply. And the nobles behind the jewelers would eventually comply with the prince’s demands. The news that a diamond mine had been discovered in the New Continent was bad news for them.
The mine belonged to a state-run company established with the prime minister stepping in, and the moment word spread that they’d found a rough stone over 200 carats, diamond prices began to crash. The price of Melly diamonds—whose product value wasn’t large to begin with—went without saying. If they didn’t want liquidity to freeze and to go bankrupt while still in the black, the only choice was to sell to the prince.
Most of the diamonds they supplied would be used in watches, but some had another purpose.
To create a magic circle that absorbs the prince’s pheromones. As preparation for his rut.
You could call it a “gift” the king had sent the prince. Because it was a magic circle extracted from the necklace worn by the king’s spy, who had come disguised as Count Umbra’s attendant.
From the reverse-engineering diagram of the necklace that I’d drawn, the prince separated out the circle that reduced the influence of pheromones. He didn’t stop at restoration—he even researched a more efficient magic circle.
“Don’t tell me you’re a master, my lord.”
The prince had said that a master-class mage could improve the old magic circle in that necklace. Had that been him measuring his own skill? Was I using a genius like that as my standard? My eyes had tensed on their own.
“No way.”
The prince frowned as if I’d said something absurd.
“It’s just that it’s magic I’ve agonized over for a long time, so I’m more familiar with it.”
I remembered. The shattered jewel fragments scattered around him after he’d gone through rut.
“Now that the timing is coming around again, we have to prepare. I don’t know exactly when it’ll come, or whether this effort will even be useful.”
When he spoke about rut, the prince was cynical. It was probably because he’d worked for a long time without receiving any proper reward. He didn’t show the same ferocity he had the first time he told me about rut.
But it felt like I could see his wounds. Even if the astonishing recovery during rut healed his blood-soaked body in an instant, the fact that the wounds happened didn’t disappear.
To realize that magic circle, we had to properly classify the subtle color tones of Melly diamonds. That was where I’d be able to help.
But what came out of the prince’s mouth wasn’t about the magic circle.
“When rut starts, you’ll take charge of the watch business.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll give instructions in advance, but I can’t handle unexpected situations. Whether it turns to porridge or rice, there has to be someone with final authority.”
“What if I make porridge?”
“Then it’s my fault for entrusting it to someone who makes porridge even after I prepared the finest ingredients. If a time comes when you need to make a truly urgent decision, use my seal in the study. This is an order.”
He even used the word “order” directly. I pointed out the realistic problem.
“What if I run away with the seal?”
Then the prince made an expression like he was amused.
“Sorry, but the seal has recognition magic on it. Even if I register you as a temporary manager, if you try to use it somewhere truly absurd—yes, for example, if you try to stamp a sales contract for this estate—then a rather interesting magic will manifest.”
“I’m not selling this estate.”
“Wise.”
“Then, could you tell me what kind of magic is engraved on it?”
It was the pure curiosity of a novice mage. Naturally, the prince didn’t answer.
“Find out yourself.”
“Are you telling me to actually pretend to stamp an estate sale contract?”
“I’m telling you to improve your magic skills. In that sense—let’s work hard today, too.”
That day, too, I was run into the ground until I blacked out.
After two more lessons, today was the day I could finally walk out on my own two feet in a barely sane state—so I have no idea when I’ll be able to figure out the magic on that seal.
Honestly, I’m not that curious about the seal’s magic. I’m never going to write a sales contract for this estate.
It’s not about keeping faith. It’s about not cutting open the belly of the goose that lays golden eggs. How common is an employer who pays you for a single decent idea and for revising design drafts?
The price I got for the prince’s watch—designed by me from start to finish—was more than worth receiving, but I know he still valued it generously.