HTLCCBFT Chapter 78

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 78

He opened his eyes.

The dream faded away.

Just before the first bell of dawn rang, Oliver opened his eyes precisely as if there were a meticulously set clockwork inside him.

He didn’t rush to get up. Instead, he lay in bed, listening to the bell carried by the morning breeze while slowly savoring the beautiful dream from the night before.

Though it wasn’t the cat-eared pretty boy he had initially imagined, the tall and handsome Cat God perfectly embodied all the adorable traits of a cat.

Whether it was those fluffy, soft, and warm cat ears that bounced back quickly with a gentle press, or that beautiful tail—sometimes held high, sometimes lazily swaying, or anxiously curled up—it always faithfully reflected the cat’s thoughts.

He couldn’t get enough of them.

Even the initially somewhat jarring tall stature, accentuated by these charming traits, became an undeniable contrast-cuteness.

His personality was also exceptionally good.

He was prone to jealousy but never unreasonable.

He would seriously discuss matters with Oliver, yet his mind was simple and easy to fool.

Even when sulking, he would just turn his back silently, waiting to be coaxed.

Whether last time or this time, Oliver realized that, despite appearing aloof and cold, he was actually innocent and pure.

Just a little sweet talk and gentle caresses were enough to win him over.

…Truly worthy of being his dream lover—well, Cat God.

Oliver couldn’t help but sigh.

If it were the feline masters he had raised in his previous world, having been deceived so many times, would they be this easy to fool?

They would probably have angrily unsheathed their claws, hysterically meowing while fiercely teaching a lesson to this smooth-talking, incorrigible, flower-chasing shovel servant who, even when caught, wore the face of a warm-hearted scoundrel.

“My dear Cat God.”

After getting up and washing, Oliver first collected the gleaming gold ingot resting quietly in the paw pad of the fortune cat statue. As usual, he kissed the smooth, rounded paw pad and offered freshly picked flowers: “Thank you for your gift, and I hope to dream of you again tonight.”

Perhaps hearing his beloved follower calling out to him, the deity, who had just fallen into slumber, seemed to sense it—his ears twitched slightly, and his eyelids trembled gently.

……

…… I also…… want to see……

……

After casually offering a sweet remark, Oliver quickly shifted into his fervent miner mode.

He hastily swallowed the liquid part of his breakfast, while bread and other foods were packed by Fosse into a basket to replenish his energy at noon.

Then, he swiftly descended the stone steps to the castle’s first floor and headed straight for the chicken coop.

In front of Lucy and the other two, who were gradually getting used to it and no longer gasping in shock, he performed his usual swift and efficient chicken-petting technique.

Ignoring the chicks’ affectionate chirps and their coaxing nuzzles, he prepared to leave heartlessly.

But after taking just two steps, his mind fully occupied with mining, he remembered something and paused.

Turning around, he said with a slight smile to Lucy, who was seriously directing Ziken to change the water in the basin, “The new dress suits you well, Lucy.”

“Y-Your Highness!”

Lucy’s eyes widened abruptly. After a moment of stunned, overwhelmed disbelief, she somewhat clumsily yet carefully lifted her skirt and curtsied: “This is all thanks to your generous grace. Thank you.”

She was far too thin. Even though her meals and living conditions had improved significantly recently, she always worked harder than anyone else, constantly thinking of doing more for the beautiful and kind Lord. As a result, she hadn’t gained much weight.

Especially now that her nutrition had caught up, her originally frail and short stature had begun to stretch again, giving her limbs a sickly slenderness.

The dress that had once been long enough when her father died had now become a strange garment that exposed most of her calves.

However, such improper attire that would make nobles frown in disgust was all too common among slaves.

Never mind that slaves always needed to work in the fields—even in winter when there was the least work, they couldn’t possibly afford the luxury of stockings like nobles wore to display elegant leg lines.

Even in the coldest weather, most of them didn’t even have decent shoes. Their feet were either covered in wounds and calluses or plagued by unbearably itchy, swollen chilblains.

But the dress Lucy received was one that Oliver had asked several peasant women who knew her measurements to make.

Not only did it fit her perfectly, but it was also made from new linen fabric she would never have dared to buy for herself—soft and comfortable to the touch, dyed in bright colors suitable for a young girl.

Lucy had hesitated in front of the clothes chest for a long time, wondering if she deserved to wear such fine garments.

But thinking of the Lord’s regard for her, she gritted her teeth and put on the plainest one.

After all, working in the chicken coop was bound to dirty her clothes—she should wear the easiest one to wash.

Now, receiving praise from the Oliver she admired most, Lucy—who usually displayed composure and calmness beyond her years even in front of grown men like Jonathan—blossomed with joy like a true little girl her age.

Oliver deepened the gentle smile at the corners of his lips, giving her a slight nod before finally taking his leave.

However, on the way to the mine, he thoughtfully said to Fosse beside him: “Fosse, why not take some of the stored linen from the warehouse and make it into stain-resistant, easy-to-move short outfits for the people in the chicken coop?”

The little girl in a long dress was indeed quite adorable.

But it had reminded him: such attire wasn’t suitable for working in the chicken coop.

The current chicken coop was just the beginning. In the coming days, they would need to select new breeder candidates from the Laina people.

As the scale gradually expanded, whether as an honor symbol for specific professions or simply for convenience, it would be better for him to provide unified clothing.

It was just some rough linen fabric entirely unworthy of touching the Duke’s skin—of course Fosse wouldn’t be stingy.

Hearing this, he bowed respectfully: “Everything will be done according to your wishes, Your Highness.”

Upon arriving at the mine, Oliver threw himself wholeheartedly into the seemingly monotonous and mechanical mining work, leaving no time to speak with Fosse.

Butler Fosse could only stand to the side, watching with concern as the beautiful, elegant young Lord swung the heavy-looking pickaxe again and again with his slender arms.

Amid the dense, rain-like cacophony of “thud-thud-clang-clang,” the sparks stirred by the fierce strikes seemed on the verge of merging into a continuous blaze.

For Oliver, the pickaxe in his hand felt weightless, and swinging it required no effort at all—completely unaffected by any recoil, making the task exceptionally effortless.

In such monotonous, repetitive labor, some might quickly grow weary, but many would instead experience an indescribable… mysterious thrill.

Immersed in this joy, Oliver saw each oval-shaped ore—whether deep gray, reddish-brown, silvery-white, or gray-gold—as adorable as Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

It truly lived up to the saying: Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get.

For him, mining was also like eating chocolates—he never knew whether the next swing of his pickaxe would yield gold ore, silver ore, copper ore, or just ordinary stone.

With the privilege of driving away anyone who tried to “help” and monopolizing the entire mining area, he found endless delight in this solitary endeavor.

If this were just a game, he certainly wouldn’t personally mine every single ore with a pickaxe: either he’d gather materials to craft or purchase powerful explosives to blast the mining area directly, or he’d selectively mine only ores with high-value metallic streaks.

Though unremarkable gray-white stones might occasionally yield small amounts of metal ore… by that stage of the game, players who had grown wealthy would hardly care for such meager profits.

Reality, of course, was different.

Ores wouldn’t respawn quickly like in a game; they were a one-time resource.

To Oliver, this was the epitome of “dig one, lose one”—a non-renewable, precious resource.

For this reason, regardless of what lay inside, driven by the pursuit of stone materials and experience points, he would meticulously break apart every last piece.

Pure bliss.

And if a seemingly plain gray-white stone yielded metal ore, it gave him the thrill of “gambling on stones.”

Even if it only produced the most common coal… it saved him the time and energy of chopping wood and making charcoal!

Whenever Oliver spared a moment to glance at the rapidly increasing counts of various metal ores in his game backpack, it filled him with unparalleled satisfaction.

Swinging his pickaxe became even more efficient and agile.

Witnessing the noble Lord personally descend into the mines, tirelessly wielding the pickaxe imbued with divine power by the great Cat God—watching as the hardest stones softened like butter over a fire, each strike carving out a large chunk—

Everyone’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to that seemingly slender yet divinely empowered figure.

Each time the Lord raised his pickaxe, they held their breath; and as it swiftly descended with force, they unconsciously gasped.

The mottled, stubborn stones shattered unresistingly, breaking into small fragments amid a puff of pale gray dust, only to vanish in an instant.

Surely, the great Cat God had claimed them with divine power.

Even those who had once witnessed the Lord effortlessly wielding a hoe and single-handedly cultivating vast fields now gazed with deepening reverence in their eyes.

Truly worthy of the Cat God.

And even more worthy of the Lord.

Amidst the crowd of fervent onlookers, only Fosse remained stern-faced, his lips pressed tightly together, occasionally glancing at the sun as it moved closer to its zenith.

Oliver, completely immersed in his mining state, was utterly unaware of the passage of time.

However, having once collapsed in public due to carelessly exhausting his energy, he had learned a lesson.

To avoid alarming his loyal butler again, he made some effort to keep an eye on his stamina bar.

When he saw the stamina bar plummeting rapidly, soon dropping to a dangerous level of less than one-tenth under the strain of heavy mining, he finally took a break.

…… Just one more swing.

Though Oliver slowed the frequency of his swings, he clearly wasn’t ready to stop, still unwilling to put away his pickaxe.

After that one swing, he couldn’t resist taking another.

Then two more.

Three more.

Just one more.

……This is really the last one.

Making a hollow vow in his heart but unable to stop himself, Oliver swung the pickaxe for the twelfth time—only to face the “retribution” for breaking his promise.

The pickaxe struck something unexpected, and as the rock layer split open, a sharp screech erupted from within.

A chaotic flurry of wingbeats followed, and before anyone could react, swarms of shadowy figures the size of forearms surged out from the fissure, launching an attack on Oliver—the only one in the mine pit!

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TL Note: Happy Thanksgiving! Bulk update~