Chapter 2: Situation Analysis and Goal Setting

Gray Walker was utterly bewildered.

It had been three days since he’d received a reckless order from his master, Zenon von Arkwright. In that time, Gray had run himself ragged throughout the mansion, sleeping barely a wink.

He snuck into the treasurer’s office, dug up dust-covered ledgers from the depths of the archives, and even slipped a few silver coins to minor officials to extract information—all to fulfill his master’s order: “Tell no one.”

But for what purpose?

That question refused to leave Gray’s mind.

If this had been one of Zenon’s usual tantrums, it would’ve been forgotten within a day. But this time was different. Those cold blue eyes of his carried a still, unfathomable light—an oppressive aura so sharp it made the very air tense.

Defiance meant death. Gray could feel that truth in his bones.

On the third night, as ordered, Gray stood before Zenon’s chamber, hauling a mountain of parchment and ledgers stacked atop a cart. He couldn’t have managed it alone, so he enlisted one trustworthy young servant to help.

“Enter.”

A short reply came after his knock.

When Gray opened the door, Zenon sat at his desk, writing something under the glow of several lamps—the room far brighter than usual.

“Lord Zenon, I’ve brought everything you requested.”

“Good. Leave it there.”

Zenon didn’t even glance up from his work.

Gray and the servant, sweating profusely, stacked the materials in a growing tower upon the floor.

“You may go. And for the next three days, do not allow anyone to approach my room. I need no meals.”

“Th–Three days, my lord? That could harm your health—”

“That’s an order. Understood?”

Faced with that tone, Gray could only bow and reply.

“Yes, my lord.”

As the door clicked shut, Zenon finally set down his pen and looked at the mountain of information before him.

He had seen this scene countless times in his previous life—staring down mountains of financial reports when beginning a corporate turnaround project.

“Very well. Let’s begin.”

He reached for the first ledger and began turning the pages.

At first, one by one. Then faster. Then faster still—until his fingers moved like wind through paper, his eyes scanning rows of numbers faster than most could comprehend.

Income. Expenditures. Assets. Liabilities.

He extracted figures, organized them mentally, and assembled a balance sheet and income statement entirely in his mind. Numbers and graphs began to take form on the parchment before him.

The analytical skills honed in his past life were still razor-sharp. In fact, with his younger body, his cognitive speed might even have improved.

Each ledger took mere minutes. When one was finished, it was tossed to the floor, and another was opened. The process continued relentlessly.

One day passed.

Zenon hadn’t slept once, pausing only to sip water as he worked. Before him now sprawled a massive web of information, mapping the Arkwright family’s finances: cash flows, unaccounted expenditures, and bizarrely inflated costs—all connected by lines across the parchment-covered wall.

By the second day, his focus shifted to territorial data which included population changes, tax trends, crop yields.

He compared data across villages, identified anomalies, and cross-checked them against weather and disaster records to test reliability.

The picture that emerged was grim—a land slowly but surely dying. The population dwindled, the soil decayed, and tax revenue collapsed. The territory was on the brink of ruin.

By dawn of the third day, Zenon closed the final ledger and set down his pen.

The air reeked of ink and parchment. Books littered the floor; the walls were plastered with notes and charts, an unfiltered portrait of the duchy’s corruption and decay.

“…Utter inefficiency.” 

He muttered bitterly.

This wasn’t management. It was plunder—a parasitic system devouring its own future. Collapse was inevitable.

A knock came.

“Lord Zenon, it’s Gray. Three days have passed.”

“Enter.”

Gray opened the door and froze.

The room looked as though a storm had passed through, and at its calm, silent center sat Zenon. The sheer scale of the work he’d completed in three sleepless days was incomprehensible.

“Gray…” 

Zenon said quietly. 

“There’s something I want to show you.”

He pointed to a sheet of parchment on the wall, a pie chart.

“This represents our annual expenditures. What do you see?”

Gray stepped closer. Even he could interpret it at a glance. And what he saw left him speechless.

Over half of the family’s spending went toward “jewelry,” “food,” and “entertainment”—all luxuries consumed by the Duke, his wife, and their sons.

Meanwhile, essential expenses, public works, defense, and staff salaries—barely made up a fifth of the total.

“This is reality…” 

Zenon said flatly. 

“Our house devours almost all its income through waste, drowning further in debt each year. At this rate, we’ll be bankrupt within five years.”

His calm tone carried the weight of a verdict.

“Now look here.”

He pointed to a map of the territory, several villages circled in red ink.

“These villages’ yields have plummeted, and deaths from unknown illnesses are rising. All of them lie downstream from the copper mine.”

“Y–You mean…”

“The mine’s overseer likely cut safety costs to boost profits. Contaminated runoff poisoned the land and killed the people. And yet, the only reports that reached us were about reduced tax income. No one even bothered to investigate. It’s incompetence of the highest order.”

Zenon’s voice was cold and sharp as a blade.

And for the first time, Gray understood—his young master was no longer the man he once served.

Gray was struck speechless.

Until now, he had only vaguely understood that the family’s finances were crumbling and that the territory was in decline. But when those facts were laid bare before him in cold, concrete numbers, the reality hit like a hammer. This wasn’t just a problem—it was a sinking ship, and they had all been living carelessly atop it.

“Why… why are you doing this?”

The question escaped him like a plea. Why had Zenon-sama, who until recently showed no interest in anything—unearthed all these issues in just three days?

Zenon leaned back in his chair, fixing Gray with those piercing blue eyes.

“My goal…” 

He said calmly.

“… is to build a comfortable and rational life.”

“C–Comfortable…?”

“Yes. This house, steeped in waste and corruption, and this territory, bled dry through exploitation. They’re both obstacles to that goal. Bankruptcy, famine, rebellion—all irrational risks that threaten my peace. Therefore, I’ll eliminate them.”

There was no hint of compassion in his tone. No desire to save the people, no duty to restore the house’s honor. His voice carried only the cold resolve of an engineer correcting a broken system.

But that wasn’t how Gray heard it.

In his ears, Zenon’s words transformed into something far nobler:

“The corruption of my house and the suffering of my people, all of it is mine to correct. I will save the Arkwright family and this land with my own hands.”

The young master before him no longer seemed like the arrogant, self-centered noble he’d once served. Perhaps that attitude had been a facade born of despair—a mask worn to endure the incompetence and rot surrounding him. Beneath it all, there had always been a burning will to protect the land and its people.

And now, at last, he was rising to his feet—alone—to act on that will.

Within Gray, fear gave way to awe.

This… this is my true lord.

This was the man to whom he would devote his sword—and his life.

Gray fell to one knee with a thud.

“Zenon-sama! I, Gray Walker, pledge my life to your service. Please—use me as your sword!”

Zenon blinked, slightly frowning at the sudden display.

(What’s with this guy? Getting dramatic all of a sudden… Well, whatever. A useful pawn is still a pawn.)

He adjusted his thoughts quickly, tallying Gray’s newfound loyalty as a zero-cost resource in his mental ledger.

“…Do as you like. But empty words mean nothing. Prove your loyalty through action.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Gray’s eyes burned with renewed purpose.

Zenon glanced at him once, then turned his focus back to the parchments scattered across his desk. There, neatly written, was the first step of his reform plan.

[Action Plan: Phase 1-1]
Issue: Excessive household expenditures (especially family extravagance)
Measure: Draft a data-driven budget proposal and secure approval in the next family council
Risk: Emotional backlash anticipated. Prepare to counter with logic and facts.

The analysis was complete. The diagnosis made.

Now began the execution phase.

And first on the list—the greatest cancer of this household—the parasites known as “family.”

Zenon’s lips curled faintly upward.

It was the sharp, predatory smile of a consultant standing at the threshold of a new intellectual game.