Chapter 75: So that’s it, this is how the Miracle Weaver is used?

‘Miracle Weaver’—so it has this kind of use too?

She didn’t believe for a second that the Empire’s merchants would suddenly grow a conscience and return the difference in full. Just thinking about it made it obvious—impossible.

Then there could only be one truth! Her talent—that nearly wish-fulfilling power to rewrite fate! Because she wished for wealth to change the fate of her territory’s people, the wealth simply appeared before her!

Mm, mm, as expected of me!

That’s the only explanation that makes sense. But if it was truly such a massive interference in fate, the amount of mana consumed would absolutely leave Irene bedridden for days—she inexplicably ignored this crucial issue.

When the territory needed money most, it just showed up like this. Even Irene found it hard to stay calm.

She spun around sharply, eyes shining with unprecedented excitement, and loudly announced to Leila, Ansel, and the villagers gathering around:

“Everyone, do you see? These gold coins are exactly the income we should have received for the mithril ore we sold before! This wealth was mined out, bit by bit, by everyone here! This money does not belong to me! It belongs to our entire territory! It belongs to every single one of you!”

Her words were like sparks tossed into boiling oil, instantly igniting the villagers’ emotions, already soaring from the name of “Saintess.”

They gazed at the dazzling gold in the open wagon, listened to Irene’s impassioned speech, and trembled with excitement, dropping to their knees again, loudly crying out, “Saintess!” and “Mercy of the Goddess!”

Irene’s heart surged with heroic passion.

With this money, the territory’s reconstruction and revival were no longer distant dreams! If she could settle everything here early, she’d be free from this cage and could go on adventures with the girls!

She took a deep breath and, with Leila’s help, stepped up onto a slightly higher mound of earth. Facing the sea of kneeling villagers and more people hurrying over from nearby villages, she cleared her throat, her voice spreading out.

“Everyone, listen up. As your lord—” Irene’s voice was clear, carrying an undeniable resolve, “Every word I say next will decide the future of this territory and all of you, and I promise every bit of it will come true!”

“For now, get up and listen! There’s no need to be so formal!”

The villagers hesitated, slowly rising with awe in their eyes, staring at their “Saintess,” their lord.

Irene looked around at those weathered, hopeful faces and began to paint the vision in her heart:

“These gold coins—every single one will be put to proper use! First, we must solve the most urgent problem—food! Organize a team immediately and use this money to buy enough grain and high-quality seeds from neighboring counties or even the royal Grain Storehouse! Make sure that everyone, no matter young or old, male or female, will never go hungry again!”

A wave of suppressed cheers and incredulous gasps rose from the crowd. Food! It was their deepest fear and longing.

No harsh conditions? Even the beloved Vincent, who often opened the Grain Storehouse, couldn’t do this!

“Second, housing!” Irene pointed at the dilapidated thatched huts. “Look at your homes! They’re already falling apart—that won’t do! We’ll use the best wood and stone to rebuild sturdy, warm houses that keep out wind and rain! We’ll plan and construct new villages together! Every family must have a safe place to live!”

Rebuilding their homes! That long-dreamed word instantly brought tears to many eyes.

“Third, healthcare and sanitation!” Irene’s gaze swept over the villagers’ chilblains and sickly faces. “Winston and his granddaughter Rita will stay here. I will allocate funds to build a public clinic for the territory! All sick residents will be treated for free! At the same time, we’ll improve drinking water, clean up trash, dig public toilets, and prevent disease!”

A free clinic? Public toilets? These unheard-of ideas left villagers exchanging confused looks, but the words “free treatment” still warmed their hearts.

“Fourth, education!” Irene’s voice grew even more passionate. “Knowledge changes fate! The children can’t be trapped in the fields forever! We will build public schools! Hire teachers! Every child in the territory, boy or girl, will have the chance to learn to read, do arithmetic, and acquire skills to make a living! No tuition fees! All costs will be covered by the territory!”

“Girls… can go to school too?” a woman gasped in disbelief.

“Of course!” Irene said firmly. “Here, boys and girls are the same! They are the future of the territory!”

“Fifth, social welfare!” Irene continued, introducing her modern ideas.

“For the elderly, orphans, and disabled who can no longer work, the territory will take responsibility for their care! We’ll establish a Welfare Home! We are a community—no one should fall in hardship! At the same time, we’ll organize public projects like building roads, digging canals, constructing public mills and bakeries. We’ll hire able-bodied people and pay them according to their work, so everyone has a stable source of income!”

The more Irene spoke, the more excited she became, as if she could already see a modernized territory—where no one stole, the old were cared for, the young were taught, and the land brimmed with vitality and hope—being born in her hands.

She described collective farms, public canteens, labor security… pouring out a flood of social ideals that would be considered advanced even in the modern world, all at once onto this barren medieval land.

She looked forward to seeing the villagers’ sudden realization, their overwhelming excitement, their thunderous cheers.

However, when she finally stopped, panting slightly as she looked at the crowd, she was greeted by utter silence.

The cheers she had imagined did not come. The villagers, who had just been excited by the gold and the title of “Saintess,” now wore faces full of bewilderment, confusion, and even… a trace of fear?

They exchanged glances, lips moving, but no sound came out.

The words Irene spoke, “public,” “welfare,” “school,” “paid according to labor,” “social security”… these terms were like a foreign language to them. They couldn’t grasp the logic or meaning within.

Irene’s heart skipped a beat. The excitement on her face slowly froze, replaced by a sense of foreboding.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?” she couldn’t help but ask, a hint of urgency and confusion in her voice.

The crowd stirred. At last, the oldest among them, looking like a village elder chosen from several nearby villages, hobbled forward on his cane.

He bowed deeply, his dry, raspy voice trembling with fear and confusion as he spoke:

“Re… respected Saintess… You… what you said, this old man is dull-witted, truly… truly doesn’t quite understand…”

He licked his cracked lips, mustering all his courage to voice the greatest doubt in all the villagers’ hearts: “All… all this gold… aren’t you… aren’t you going to use it first to build your own castle and gardens? And… buy better armor and steeds for your knights? Don’t all the lords… do this?”

“These things you said… public, welfare, school, what… what are those? We… we only hope you collect a little less tax, let us survive… that’s… that would be more than enough…”

Boom!

The elder’s words were like a bucket of ice water, instantly dousing the burning fire of Irene’s grand vision, chilling her from head to toe.

She understood.

It wasn’t that the villagers weren’t excited, or that they didn’t long for change. It was that they simply couldn’t comprehend!

For generations, they had lived squeezed between exploitation by lords, oppression by the church, and the ravages of disaster. Survival was their only goal.

The rules of their world were: the lord owns the land and everything on it, collects taxes, maintains an army and a luxurious life, and the occasional act of mercy is a great blessing.

Public works? Social security? Compulsory education? Paid according to labor?
These concepts were beyond their understanding, even subversive—tinged with a kind of “heresy” that instinctively made them uneasy.

What frightened them wasn’t that Irene’s vision wasn’t beautiful enough, but the unknown price behind this “beauty”—the fear of angering the gods or violating the established rules of the lordly class.

Irene pressed her hand to her forehead, letting out a long, silent sigh.

A wave of crushing frustration and loneliness washed over her. She felt like a fool, preaching quantum physics to Stone Age tribesmen.

The gulf of the ages, the wall of ideas, were heavier and colder than she’d ever imagined.

This was far trickier than the mess Vincent had left behind.

“Leila, Ansel.” Irene’s voice held a trace of exhaustion, but more than that, a resolute command. “Escort the gold coins back to the castle and guard them well. Then, gather all the minor officials who can still handle matters, as well as the village chiefs and elders from each village—everyone who can make decisions. Assemble in the council hall, at once!”

She had to change her approach.

No matter how beautiful the blueprint, she needed to be practical and start with the most basic things the villagers could understand.

First, buy the grain and seeds, fix the worst houses, and let them see the most tangible changes.

As for those “earth-shattering ideas,” she could only take it slow—or even… set them aside for now.

“Yes, Milady!” Leila and Ansel replied in unison. They, too, sensed the subtle shift in the situation and the heaviness in Irene’s tone.

The villagers, seeing that the Saintess seemed a bit “displeased” as she left, grew even more anxious, dropping to their knees once more and silently praying that the Goddess and the Saintess would not abandon them.