HTLCCBFT Chapter 47

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 47

When Oliver woke up, he was first surprised that his biological clock—set by the game system and usually as unshakeable as a mountain—had failed.

But perhaps because the game system had given him a few too many “surprises” lately, he quickly accepted this fact… Of course, he had no choice but to accept it.

If this biological clock could truly be more flexible and not force him into a coma-like rest at two in the morning, he would be happy to see it happen.

Through the many recent changes, Oliver couldn’t help but further affirm the policy he had been implementing: “As expected, I can’t completely rely on the game system to develop the economy and agriculture.”

Perhaps there would truly come a day when the game system failed completely.

Since it was a rare opportunity to wake up later, Oliver decided not to rush out of bed.

Instead, he lay quietly in bed, seemingly resting with his eyes closed, but in reality, he had entered a state of deep reflection.

It was strange, now that he thought about it. Logically, he should have forgotten at least half of his dream’s contents upon waking.

Yet, whether it was the soft sensation of stepping on clouds, the magnificent golden temple, or the scene where the lucky cat statue nearly transformed into a living person right before his eyes, he somehow remembered everything clearly.

As he recalled the contents of his dream, especially the scene just before he woke up, Oliver simply… had to look at himself in a new light.

Dreams were mostly a manifestation of the subconscious, and they could also stem from strong desires or fears.

This was certainly not a nightmare, but for him, who had been bewildered throughout, it couldn’t be called a pleasant dream either.

Considering the final scene where the fortune cat statue almost turned human and kept calling his name in a low, pleasant voice that made his ears tingle, instead of meowing cutely…

It was irrefutable proof of his guilt.

After all, he was the one having the dream. Although Oliver was very reluctant, he had no choice but to question his own integrity.

Could it be that his worldly desires, which had been overshadowed by his intense desire for cultivation, were secretly making mischief?

He was afraid that was exactly it.

If it weren’t for being so sexually frustrated, how could he possibly have had such an absurd dream?

At this thought, Oliver groaned in both annoyance and shame.

It was simply unbelievable.

How did he not know he had a preference for sexy, cat-eared youths, and was so desperate that he—disgustingly—wouldn’t even spare a cute lucky cat statue!

Taking advantage of the fact that no one else was in the room, the lord of Laina City, having just become acquainted with the “ugly desires of his own heart,” continued to lie in bed like a corpse, sinking deep into a state of painful reflection.

Meanwhile, the lucky cat statue placed in the game backpack was also far from calm.

To be precise, the sliver of divine sense within the golden statue was experiencing unprecedented turmoil.

…… He was also annoyed.

His divine body, not yet fully formed, meant He did not yet possess the true wisdom of a God.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry either—in the past, due to a lack of power of faith, He often didn’t have enough energy to maintain a state of consciousness, aside from what was used to slowly condense His divine body.

Therefore, He was asleep most of the time.

The only thing that could awaken a God from that seemingly endless slumber was that most pleasant and clear voice, which seemed to be deeply branded into His most important, most central sliver of divine sense.

Whenever His beautiful believer called upon Him, He would briefly awaken from a deep dream, listening to his wishes either through the divine sense within the golden statue or by temporarily sending down a new wisp of divine sense to Oliver’s side.

However, He could only understand very limited content and perform simple thoughts.

It wasn’t until a large amount of pure power of faith suddenly surged in yesterday that He gained the ability to truly coalesce and take form for the first time, and could also ponder slightly more complex issues—with an eagerness that even He couldn’t comprehend, He pulled the sleeping believer’s spirit into His temple.

Only a soul that truly possessed divine favor, meticulously protected by divine power, could remain completely unharmed by the temple’s scorching light and even gaze directly upon a God’s true form.

However, His divine power was still insufficient—just anxiously pulling His most beloved believer’s soul into the divine realm for a short time had already consumed too much of His strength. As a result, He hadn’t managed to hold on long enough to finish coalescing His divine body in front of Oliver.

If He couldn’t send Oliver back to his body before His divine power was nearly depleted, it would cause him severe, irreversible harm.

After dimly grasping this point through His newly acquired consciousness, He hastily sent him back at the last moment.

….. no hurry.

He contemplated slowly.

….. must….. must take it slowly.

….. it should be…..

He slowly closed His eyes.

To coalesce His divine body as quickly as possible, he withdrew all its scattered consciousness from the outside world.

…..

….. soon…..

…..

Only one wisp was left behind — the one guarding Its beautiful follower.

…..

….. wait a little longer…..

…..

Oliver had no idea that he had taken the blame for the wrong thing entirely.

After a good round of self-reflection, he accepted this brand-new version of himself and sat up in bed. Just as he was about to change his clothes, he suddenly remembered the cat statue he had almost forgotten.

It was time to test his theory.

He cautiously took the God of Wealth statue out of his game backpack.

There was no need to even weigh it. The profound impression from last night allowed him to confirm at once that the cat statue’s weight hadn’t changed significantly.

If he had to say, it might have even gotten a tiny bit lighter.

—There was no way for Oliver to know that this was because the divine power was gradually becoming more condensed and refined.

He only thought his guess had been confirmed: the weight of a game item would most likely change if it was exposed to the real world for too long.

“Mm……”

Logically, he should have been relieved.

However, after the embarrassment of that dream, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty when he looked at the golden lucky cat statue, which was both cute and serious, soft and majestic.

Although he had lost out on the next day’s metal ingot because he had put the statue into his game backpack, Oliver still went out of his way to pick a beautiful wildflower from the garden bed.

Then, he solemnly placed it on the cat’s plump, smooth paw pad.

“My dear Cat God,” Oliver said, for once being completely earnest as he lowered his gaze and murmured, “please forgive my offense… I’m sorry, Meow Meow.”

After he finished speaking, Oliver was amused by the two “meows” he had inexplicably let out.

After this interlude, which for him had been nothing short of heart-pounding, he even put a pause on his grand undertaking of petting the chickens before they were let out in the morning.

Besides, judging from the situation yesterday morning, the flock of chicks he petted every day had already reached the peak of their affection for him.

If he got too close, it might even be detrimental to Lucy and the others’ plan to train the flock and build up their conditioned reflexes.

It would be better to leave them alone for a while.

He would wait until the chicks’ affection for him had dropped a little, then go make up for it with a few pets… lest it affect the future yield of animal products.

Sigh.

Oliver sighed to himself.

This was the very first time since he’d gotten chickens that he hadn’t started his wonderful day by petting them.

Not being able to pet the chickens—it was surprising how forlorn and empty it made him feel.

As Oliver mulled over these messy thoughts, the butler, Fosse, who was standing in attendance to one side, was carefully observing his young master’s expression without a moment’s pause.

Ever so sharp, he had of course clearly seen the hint of melancholy that flickered across his young master’s face.

There was something else out of the ordinary… The young master always greeted him with a gentle, brilliant smile when he came to the dining room.

But today, he had merely nodded with a slight smile before sitting down distractedly and eating his breakfast in silence.

He didn’t even ask about the chicken coop.

What happened?

Fosse immediately thought back to their conversation last night.

Was it because he had said something inappropriate that the young master was in low spirits?

Fosse pressed his lips together tightly.

Just as he was waging a fierce internal struggle, wondering whether or not he should inquire, Oliver looked up at him.

His eyes, which the bright morning sun had turned a clear, watery blue, held the gentle smile that Fosse was most familiar with and adored. “Fosse, you should sit and have breakfast too. Today, we’ll mainly be taking a walk through the fields.”

Fosse felt the taut string in his heart instantly loosen at the sight of that smile.

He leaned forward slightly, placed his right hand over his heart, and replied with respectful propriety, “I will follow your instructions, Your Highness.”

While Fosse ate with methodical, yet highly efficient, movements, Oliver watched the slaves toiling below from the window and asked, as if nonchalantly, “Fosse, I suddenly thought of Miss Pride last night.”

Fanci Pride was the only daughter of Count Pride, the apple of his eye, and the one he considered his most important political asset.

It was only after having that bizarre dream that Oliver had inadvertently thought of her—simply because she had once been this body’s fiancée.

The reason it was “once” was, of course, because he had been defeated in the coup, falling from the king’s most favored prince to a duke with a hollow title who had almost no chance of ever returning to the royal capital.

On the morning of the second day after he lost power, Count Pride, having received the news, tore up the engagement contract without a moment’s hesitation. He then actively sought connections with the new king’s most favored consort, all for the sake of sending his “precious” daughter into the palace.

Fosse’s movements as he ate paused. He immediately swallowed the food in his mouth, elegantly wiped the corner of his lips with a handkerchief, and calmly commented, “That was a noble lady, and she possessed far more vision and courage than her foolish father.”

The reason Fanci received such a high evaluation from Fosse was that when Oliver was driven out of the royal capital, she had secretly done something no one would have ever imagined—with the help of her handmaiden, she disguised herself, ran out of the Count’s estate, and came alone to the carriage that was about to depart.

As Oliver searched through that dusty memory, her appearance from that day emerged.

“Oliver.”

The noble young lady, renowned for her elegance and beauty who had scarcely stepped beyond her home except for court balls, appeared before him draped in a grimy cloak and wearing men’s clothing of the poor—an act of sheer audacity.

She slightly tilted her delicate chin, which seemed utterly out of place with her tattered rain cape, and looked directly at Oliver in the carriage.

Even though her clothes were stained with mud from the road she had run along, her shoes were soaked by the drizzling spring rain, and she was shivering uncontrollably from the cold, she remained proud and stubborn.

“Do you love me?”

Without blinking, she asked a question that had never even been hinted at during their few, incredibly distant and cold “fiancé-and-fiancée meetings” at court—a question that could absolutely be described as “shameless.”

“If you love me, I’ll go with you.”

She would cast aside the family honor that others viewed as more important than life itself and elope with him.

However, whether it was the “Oliver” who lacked his most crucial soul or the true, complete Oliver, it was impossible for either to harbor any real love for his so-called fiancée.

Faced with her sudden proposal, “Oliver” did nothing but stare blankly.

“Forget it. You’re so cold, and to think I’ve been showing my love for you for so long.”

The noble lady had already gotten her answer from her former fiancé’s stiff silence.

Muttering “wanton” words that would have scared her father to death, she cast one last, meaningful sentence over her shoulder before turning decisively to leave.

“Anyway, if you want to live, you’ll have to come back sooner or later… See you then, my dear Oliver.”

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