Chapter 31: 100 consecutive draws from the beginning

Hakimi’s Golden Service, launching with a rebellion against slavery, starts with a hundred consecutive draws and an additional five lightning whips.

The sound of flesh tearing accompanies the rising sun, growing increasingly intense.

For slaves caught after escaping, Sieg’s punishment is…

After the punishment, Sieg sits on a plastic chair at a high-end street food stall, taking a deep breath, looking down with a commanding gaze at the slaves below who, after listening to his speech, are gradually leaving in an orderly manner, not daring to defy or act out of line.

He strokes his chin, crosses his legs, and recalls the recent events, unable to resist boasting like a peddler praising his own melons, feeling more exhilarated than after a climax.

“I spoke really well, didn’t I? Absolutely brilliant…”

“I feel like I could write a book called My Struggle—no, it should be Hakimi’s Struggle.”

…

As light footsteps approach from behind, accompanied by a familiar and enchanting fragrance, he can’t think of anyone other than the girl Emilia.

It’s a familiarity that triggers a reflex.

Soon, her ethereal voice reaches his ears.

“Um… Sieg, I’ve prepared the slave management measures and plans. Could you take a look? If they’re fine, I’ll implement them right away. If not, just let me know, and I’ll revise them immediately.”

He listens quietly, stands up with a half-smile, and responds as if reading a command.

The street stall chair doesn’t vanish; he simply tucks it back into his crotch as if it never existed, then turns to face her as she approaches with documents in hand.

“If you want me to review them, come closer. You already know the rules.”

“Alright… I’m coming.”

“How many fights have we had?”

“None, I think.”

Her response leaves her at a loss, so she answers honestly, reflecting that from their past lives to now, they’ve never fought—only argued at most.

Pursing her lips, trembling slightly, she cautiously steps forward, her blood-red eyes constantly observing his emotional shifts.

…

Back to his normal self, Sieg shrugs, reaches out, and takes the heavy stack of documents she hands him.

Caught off guard by their weight, he nearly gets thrown over by the files.

Steadying himself, he clears his throat.

“It’s fine, no need to be so nervous. Just a joke. Let me take a look.”

He skims through them and closes the file—not because he’s finished or understood it, but because he doesn’t understand at all.

It feels like the math problems from his past life.

When pushed to the limit, people can do anything—except math.

In short, slaves must remain slaves, and management must be effective.

“I don’t get it. Summarize it for me.”

“It’s about delegating authority, letting slaves manage other slaves. Relying solely on us is a bit overwhelming. We divide the slaves into groups, select some as team leaders, and give them slightly better treatment than regular slaves. They don’t have to work, just manage their subordinates to meet goals. If they fail, they’ll be replaced or punished. This shifts the conflict between us and the slaves to internal conflicts among them. We establish a sense of collective honor, implement collective punishment—if one person messes up, the whole team suffers—and set daily goals with reward and penalty systems to motivate slaves to work harder and increase efficiency. It also makes lazy or cunning slaves the target of resentment…”

She summarizes it simply, though it’s still rough and needs refinement.

Before she can finish, he raises a hand to stop her, gently patting her fair shoulder.

At this moment, Sieg’s face is expressionless, but he nods in approval, retracting his hand with a lingering fragrance.

From his crotch, he rummages and pulls out a family photo from who-knows-where.

He stuffs it into the girl’s arms, saying meaningfully, “Don’t be polite with me. Take it. It’ll be useful for you. Don’t worry about me—I’ve got plenty more in my crotch. Plus, I’ve recognized a bunch of ‘moms’ in Vari, and I haven’t used them up yet.”

Pausing, he realizes he’s still too much of an amateur.

“I told you before, Emilia, you can handle all these matters. You don’t even need to show them to me, because I trust your abilities.”

After all, employ those you trust, and don’t employ those you doubt.

If you’re still wary and suspicious, it’s better not to use them at all.

It’s not about trust, but simply confidence in her capabilities.

At this, a warm current flows through Emilia’s heart.

Clutching her chest, her heart races, and tears well up in her eyes, as if relief has finally come after hardship.

“I won’t let you down, Sieg. I’ll work for you my whole life, I swear.”

“…You and your ‘whole life’ talk. What kind of resolution is that, Emilia? In the future, we might part ways again. I might abandon you, or you might get tired and leave. Everything is uncertain. People’s thoughts change with time and events… So don’t let fleeting emotions or ideas make you say such impossible, meaningless, and foolish things.”

Pausing, he scratches the back of his head in frustration.

“All you’re doing is stressing me out…”

Suppressed by gravity for so long, Sieg speaks some honest words, still haunted by her past actions, unable to fully trust or believe.

“Sorry… I got carried away again. I’m sincere, though. I just want to do more for you.”

Realizing she’s gone too far, she lowers her head, her eyes dim, earnestly admitting her mistake.

She knows she’s wrong but would probably do it again…

To prevent this fragile alliance from collapsing, Sieg reluctantly says something insincere, painting a rosy picture for her.

He raises a hand and pats her small head.

It feels pretty nice—makes him want to grab it and refine it on the spot.

“Instead of wasting time grossing me out, do more for me. Let me praise you more, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll forgive you someday.”

“I understand. Thank you, Sieg. I’ll remember this forever.”

Feeling his touch, she doesn’t resist, submitting like a loyal, gentle golden retriever.

“…”

He’s at a loss for words again, sighing as he looks at her harmless appearance.

She’s exactly his type—damn it, he almost fell for it, nearly caught in a woman’s trap.

He hopes she behaves herself, or there’ll be consequences.

As he stops patting her, he turns, hands behind his back, glancing back with the air of a sage.

With Hakimi’s help at home, everything comes naturally.

Knowing she can’t dawdle any longer, she smiles faintly, like a painting, then steps back gracefully, leaving like a delicate butterfly, every gesture and smile soft and beautiful.

Truly a man’s ultimate weapon.

“I’m going, Sieg.”

“Go. Don’t come back for ten days or half a month.”

Once the girl is gone, he reaches into his crotch, earnestly adjusting his trajectory to prevent damage to his Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon.

His gaze, sharp as a torch, fixes on the mercenaries nearby.

They seem restless, probably fed up with being harassed and eager to take out Emilia to call it a day.