NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 10
In reality, choosing a future in this world is difficult.
This is because labor restrictions exist under the empire’s law.
A farmer’s child becomes a farmer. A hunter’s child becomes a hunter. A blacksmith’s child becomes a blacksmith. The fading recognition from the previous world is firmly enforced here, established by law as something so natural.
This is not surprising. Given the lack of advanced machinery, many tasks rely heavily on manpower, which is crucial for the nation’s operation. The state depends on enough people working in essential jobs.
In contrast, in the previous world, desk jobs became more popular, leaving the demands for agricultural and construction labor unmet. It’s clear that anyone would prefer jobs that are less strenuous and yield more money, whether or not there’s machinery to assist in efficiency.
Even in the Threefold Empire of Rain, with its policies to increase literacy, similar issues were emerging. Upon reflection, it’s easy to understand. With fewer people able to attend private tutoring, there is limited demand for intellectual jobs like scribes. Even a scribe like Mr. Grant who works in this remote estate survives merely by writing a few letters and petitions monthly.
However, under the current societal system, which cannot rely on imported food, it would be problematic if people were to leave agriculture and civil engineering. As a failsafe, the empire’s law enforces job restrictions to prevent this.
While there may be some flexibility through marriage into a family or an apprenticeship application process, the availability of work is exceedingly scarce—comparable to part-time opportunities in depopulated areas from the previous world. Without connections, entering the workforce is difficult, leaving me with a limited number of choices.
Under the empire’s law, only adventurers, mercenaries, soldiers, or local defense personnel aren’t subject to restrictions from agricultural work. Other options include day laborers, coal miners, or farming on a land experiencing a labor shortage.
Without official recruitment for regular troops, there’s no way to become a soldier in the vicinity, and regrettably, the local militia only considers me a “candidate” even though I’ve received training. Currently, with Mr. Rucke’s replacement already filling in, there’s no vacancy for a dedicated position.
Moreover, starting farming from scratch requires capital. Attempting to farm on another estate without capital essentially means becoming a serf, which isn’t an option. I’ve heard underage individuals face difficulties becoming day laborers. In fact, attending a private school to eventually take over the family business is far more productive in comparison.
Therefore, my only real option is becoming an adventurer—a melancholy truth.
There’s also the workaround of adopting into a family to change professions, but such actions seem risky within this close-knit estate. Besides, even considering this does not substantially increase my options.
It’s a challenging situation. There are also free titles like writers, playwrights, bards, or actors whose professions are practically the same as unemployment. Still, I am not carefree enough to think that such paths would sustain me, especially without any passion for them. I doubt I could maintain such endeavors long-term even if I invested my skills there.
“Are you troubled?”
As usual, Margit’s voice appeared unexpectedly close, ringing from beneath my chin. She remains hanging around my neck even when I’m deeply lost in thought. Why does her hazel gaze, combined with her two compound eyes, leave me so frozen?
I’ve started feeling that her eyes are gradually becoming deeper, more metallic than hazelnut, a shift in color I hadn’t noticed until recently.
“I… I too have many thoughts,” I admitted to her, beads of nervous sweat forming on my brow. Something in the back of my mind warns me, but I can’t fully process it. Her unwavering stare leaves me paralyzed.
It feels as though her gaze touches my eyes, then seeps into my brain, inducing strange delusions. However, these baseless thoughts strangely feel too real.
It’s like she’s really affecting me somehow.
“So, lean on me if you’re troubled…”
The six legs wrapped around my torso tightened, constricting my abdomen not out of concern for falling but as if deliberately preventing an escape. It made me briefly remember that some spiders practice sexual cannibalism.
And she is, after all, a spider.
Though I can’t recall whether that applies to the species of her kind, the possibility unsettles me…
“Perhaps I can help you in some way…”
Her childlike face whispered close to my ear, her breath tickling my skin.
And as suddenly as it had begun, the oppressive sensation vanished; released from her grip.
“Haha, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost in broad daylight!”
Standing on the ground, Margit tilted her head, her mischievous grin illuminated by the sunlight, giving her hazel eyes a soft, innocent gleam.
Was it all an illusion?
“Come, shall we? You were practicing earlier, weren’t you? Exercising to prevent catching a cold is necessary!”
Teasing me in courtly language, she took my hand. Unlike the humans or my lively younger sister Eliza, Margit’s small hand felt cool and soft, calming my slightly agitated heart. It’s strange, the sensation from earlier feels completely absent now.
It’s not worth fretting over anyway—talk about leaving home would only start when I’m fifteen. Although there’s the possibility of accidentally walking in on newlyweds “bonding,” my parents would likely have that covered, so I shouldn’t worry about it for now. Whether building a separate house or expanding our current one, someone from our family will remain in the house. Nothing has to change.
I tightened the small, cool hand I held in mine…
………
The method of securing prey effectively was something Margit had learned from her mother.
Since the hunting style of a spider person, like a jumping spider who does not spin webs, differs from the ambush tactics of orb-weaver spiders or the raw power of tarantulas and huntsman spiders, it possesses its unique traits.
You quietly approach, pounce, and leave no room for reaction—your prey dies in the blink of an eye.
You enter the range of your prey without being noticed, then strike a vital spot with either a dagger or a short bow, ending the life swiftly. Having no poison or webs for capture, spider people like her evolved to rely on speed and precision. Their small frames make this approach necessary for survival.
Additionally, her mother taught her lessons—understanding where the weaknesses lay on a body. While there are many places to cause death by blood loss, instantly fatal areas are limited.
You must know from which angle your enemy cannot counter. Even small beings like her can attract notice moving around freely, but carefully avoiding the enemy’s field of vision and senses can grant the upper hand.
Understanding what makes the prey formidable can reveal its vulnerabilities. Those dependent on swords may over-rely on them; those with bows, their arrows.
And this applies to men too, her mother emphasized in the end.
Men also have weaknesses—not just physical ones, like losing their heads, but specific vulnerabilities they become weak to under certain scenarios.
Unfortunately, jumping spiders lack the mature allure of human characteristics. Their evolutionary trait of reduced body mass results in generally petite builds, and even if they develop feminine curves, it often leads to an unbalanced appearance. They lack the grace of aging gracefully.
And her mother, despite having birthed several children, still has an astonishingly youthful appearance. Standing beside her human father, they could pass as grandfather and granddaughter. Some humans even rumoredly develop perverted tastes for such mismatches between youthfulness and dignity.
But fortunately, the target Margit had set her sights on is alright. His young age means there’s little disparity between his appearance and actual years. She feels certain she can exploit his weak points effectively, sensing his response several times to her advances.
It seems he’s particularly susceptible to whispers. Every time, she can feel him shiver beneath her.
In her worldview, love is also a form of hunting—a truism especially for spider people who are closer to magical species and inclined toward madness than humans.
Thus, Margit leaps onto Erich to stake her claim—not just for physical comfort or amusement, but to find fulfillment and security.
When she noticed his distress, she determined to assist him. Being the fourth son, it is unlikely he would stay at home. Additionally, career opportunities seemed scarce. The militia wouldn’t naturally open slots any time soon—there’s an entire waiting list of prospective recruits—and Erich simply doesn’t have the cutthroat nature necessary to elbow his way through.
However, he does have a good reputation. Having nearly memorized the sacred scriptures and hymns, his devoutness would surely be welcomed by the manor if he chose a religious path. His strong command of court language, as well as reading and writing, would suit a clerical position with local authorities. Several adults who would recommend him can easily be counted beyond the ten fingers of both hands.
And if he so desired, marrying into another family to become their successor is a plausible option, in fact, quite expedient. In truth, he already receives much attention from the women in the estate. From young girls to eligible young women, even to widows in need of new husbands, Erich fits the desirable mold as he excels both academically and physically, earns extra money through side jobs, possesses a delicate face, and sports the golden hair and blue eyes favored by the empire’s population.
Thinking further, Margit momentarily fantasized about confining him to her hunting lodge on the tree, her heart racing, her stomach tightening with anticipation.
Ah, and he was considering becoming an adventurer, she recalled.
Margit knew the harsh reality of that profession, as her mother had once been an adventurer—infatuated with a hunter in the estate, she retired after years of traveling the world as a scout for a party, recounting such tales often. So, if Erich were to pursue adventuring, Margit had already decided to follow him. With keen senses and excellent hearing, her role as a scout would always be valuable. Even if he were clever, his perception would still be limited to “human sensory range.”
As she hung off the already developed youth, a fine smile bloomed on her delicate face.
Would he jump willingly into her web, or would she have to capture him?
That was simply another source of excitement for her…