Snow fell all night. I worked at my drafting board all night—well, of course… my body was resting soundly in the bedroom prepared by the Duke of Northberg. What was actually working was the puppet I controlled. I named her "Jenny," after my mother. Lilia always calls me "older sister" when I’m puppeteering, while Freud and the Duke address me by my real name: Victoria. Freud had left days ago to fetch his younger brother, Charles, so lately Lilia’s been dragging me around like her personal pet.

"Chris is so cute—why don’t you go pet *him* instead!"

"Oh, and by the way… he can even transform into a beautiful girl."

"Victoria," the black cat said, swishing its tail over my blueprint, "I heard that thought."

"Sorry. Slipped out by accident."

I brushed the tail aside and kept drawing—but it huffily dropped again, perfectly blocking my current stroke.

"Time to disconnect from the puppet. Your body rests, but mental fatigue builds. One day your soul will weaken… and you won’t taste good anymore."

"Yes, yes, *Mom* Chris. Off to bed now."

"I am *not* your mom!"

The black cat dissolved into arcane particles, then reassembled beside the drafting board as a golden-haired, blue-eyed youth. His hair gleamed like molten gold, his eyes like deep sapphires—so strikingly handsome, no one would ever guess he was a demon.

"Still," Chris murmured, peering at my half-finished blueprint, "what *is* this? A flush toilet with limbs?"

"It’s the 'Iron Guard.'"

"It barely resembles the last design. You just… made something entirely new."

"Obviously," I sighed. "The Duke of Northberg wants the Iron Guard’s cost under 2,000 imperial gold coins. Simplifying the Steel Rider was impossible—I had to redesign from scratch."

"But… it’s *so* ugly."

"Trust me. On the battlefield, the uglier the weapon, the deadlier it is."

"Hah. You win." Chris wrapped his arms around my neck from behind, chin resting on my head. "Dear Victoria… midnight’s long past. Bedtime."

"I’m fine. In my past life, I survived on four hours a night."

"*Now* you’re a child!"

As Chris grumbled, another guest appeared. Aleister, draped in an ornate black robe, phased straight through my drafting board. His semi-transparent form looked ghostly. Correction—he *was* a ghost. No "looks like."

"Victoria. Chris is right. Sleep."

"Master… since when do you team up with him?"

"Hmph. You skipped tonight’s lesson."

*Sigh.* My ancestor’s being petty again. Death really turned him into a goofball. Rumor says undeath corrupts the soul… and 90% of the time, you end up a goofball.

"Chris! Great Abyssal Lord! Stand by my side!"

Somehow, Chris obeyed Aleister’s nonsense. They planted themselves squarely before my board, blocking my view completely. *Move!*

Defeated, I severed the spiritual link and went to sleep.

Three days later, I presented the revised blueprint to the Duke of Northberg. I braced for "Can this ugly thing even fight?" Instead, he boomed, "Brilliant!" and greenlit the prototype immediately.

Per his order, I commissioned House Northenberg’s armory: blacksmiths forged the outer armor; I crafted the skeletal frame myself. Over two years, I’d transformed the family’s old smithy into this efficient armory—recruiting young artisans, applying my past-life management skills. Production soared. Soldiers and knights now received identical, standardized gear. Interchangeable parts made repairs swift and simple.

Next step: upgrade with arcane tech. But the real bottleneck? Metal supply.

Casworth was vast, rich in ore beneath white peaks and dark rivers. Yet the land was frozen, barren. Human-controlled zones were too few to mine effectively. Even with tripled factory output, no metal meant no production. Ancient Alchemy *could* synthesize anything… but trading magic for cheap iron? Wildly inefficient.

*Need another plan.*

During a break, my puppet visited the city. First stop: the Alchemists Guild. Weekly commissions boosted my rank—I’d hit Silver, nearing Gold.

"Welcome! Lady Jenny! Long time no see!"

Emily behind the counter smiled professionally. The freckled country girl from two years ago was gone—replaced by a polished receptionist. Thanks to my steady, swift orders (and her 10% commission), her uniform was crisper, her gemstone earrings gleaming.

"Morning, Emily. Today’s commissions."

"Right away!" She bowed deeply, took the items. I’d chosen rare-metal orders: sodium, actinium—scarce elements, high pay. Minutes later, she returned with three gold coins and twenty coppers.

"Thank you, Lady Jenny. The Guild appreciates your support."

"My membership card?"

Emily hesitated. I glanced up—the balcony. Mantle held my card, smiling. *Here we go again.*

I "obediently" entered the second-floor lounge and sat.

"Miss Jenny," Mantle began from the opposite sofa, "two years of fruitful cooperation… Don’t you think it’s time to introduce me to your mysterious master?"

*Still not giving up?*

"My apologies, Vice President," I said flatly. "You know my master’s ties to House of Northenberg. My answer remains: no."

"A pity." He signaled Emily. She placed a wooden box before me. "A personal gift. Please accept."

The puppet’s eyes subtly refocused with a soft rustle. Through them, I sensed faint magical energy leaking from the box. *A magical artifact?* Stingy Mantle, generous? Had the sun risen west? Intriguing.

I opened it. An ancient parchment scroll, preserved by anti-deterioration enchantments. As acting librarian of the Eternal Night Library, curiosity burned. *Could this trade for knowledge at Thoth’s Sanctum of Knowledge?*

I unrolled it—and frowned.

"This is… a map?"

"Indeed. A relic from the Era of the Ancients. Undecipherable today, but valuable as a collectible. I hope your master enjoys it."

*Too bad I can read it.* Thanks to Aleister’s nightly cram sessions? Who knew. The map was half-complete, marking every ancient settlement around Golden Lion City. My gaze climbed the mountain ridge—a hollow marked clearly: **Mining Station #794**.

An automated Era of the Ancients facility. It processed raw ore straight into metal ingots. The solution to our shortage. In my past life, Freud secured it—giving House Northenberg the resources to build the Iron Guard prototype.

*And now… it fell into my lap.*

"I accept this map," I said, tucking it away. "My master will display it proudly. But one question, Vice President Mantle… You’re not giving it to me *'free,'* are you?"

"Of course," he smiled faintly. "A gesture of goodwill. For smoother cooperation ahead."

"I’ll convey your regards. Excuse me."

*Mantle—the man who ruined me last life—helping me?*

*Yeah, right.*

I’d already spotted it: a hidden tracking spell woven into the Arcane Formula preserving the scroll. Trying to locate my "master"? Delusional.

I dispelled it effortlessly.

*Another scheme, foiled.*