You said you were going to make games, how did you become the richest man without doing anything?

Located in the very center of the continent of Eltia, there is a land forever blessed by the sun, and its name is the Kingdom of Cecil.

This land is rich and vast, with a large population, where magic and civilization coexist. Because it is favored by the gods and has a spring-like climate all year round, it is also known as the "Kingdom of the Sun".

The heart of this land—the royal capital Igresia—beats like a jewel set in a golden crown, day and night.

The capital was strictly divided into four regions.

At the very center is the royal palace, a symbol of royal power, resplendent in gold and heavily guarded, accessible only to members of the royal family and direct descendants of nobles. Further out lies a special district, home to nobles, high-ranking mages, and scholars, where magic towers, ritual halls, the royal healing institution, and the Senate stand side by side.

Outside the special zone lies the civilian district, which occupies most of the city wall area. Merchants, artisans, soldiers, and travelers gather here, forming the cogs and flesh of the capital's daily life.

The outermost area is the slums. It's a shadow forgotten by the glory of the capital, dilapidated, chaotic, and overcrowded, where demi-humans and humans, vagrants and fugitives, scavengers and unlicensed people live together. Sewage flows everywhere, gangs are everywhere, and violence and poverty are the norm here.

The closer one gets to the edge of the capital, the lower the social class of the residents become, and the further away power and sunlight become.

At this very moment, deep within the royal capital's special district, in the heart of the royal government's administrative center, a magnificent and solemn building stands silently. Its main entrance is adorned with a golden relief—a sword and a shield, protecting the burning sun totem at its center.

This is the headquarters of the Imperial Guard Division.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a thin layer of gold on the floor. The heavy carpet muffled footsteps, and the air was filled with the scent of silver pine and the coolness of iron.

In the conference room filled with maps and battle plans, the two sat facing each other.

"Division Commander, is there something you need from me?"

The speaker was a tall and slender female knight with a cold expression and a voice as sharp as a blade slicing through the snow.

She had bright blonde hair tied in a neat ponytail, blue eyes like frozen lakes, and her platinum-inlaid armor shone brightly. Specially made magic gun holsters hung on both sides of her waist, exuding a cold and deadly edge.

She is Annabelle Ainsworth, the deputy commander of the Royal Guard Division, the de facto ruler of the capital, and is known as the "White Knight of the Holy Lance".

Sitting opposite her was a middle-aged man with strong features, short gray hair and a well-groomed beard. He wore a crisp military uniform with three gold lines on his epaulets, symbolizing his status as the supreme commander.

He is Julius Karel, the current commander of the Royal Guard Division and the one who controls the military power in the capital.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Deputy Division Commander Annabelle.”

"You suddenly called me over, is there some emergency?"

Annabelle's tone remained calm, but her eyes showed a hint of alertness.

Julius did not answer immediately, but slowly picked up an intelligence file from the table and gently tapped the red wax sealing it with his fingertips.

"Actually... I heard a rumor that's quite intriguing."

“Rumors…” Annabelle raised an eyebrow.

"About the slums."

He paused, his voice low: "Recently, things seem to be going a bit strange there."

"The slums?" Annabelle's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. "Have those demi-humans clashed again?"

“No.” Julius shook his head, a look of disbelief in his eyes.

"It is said that the struggle between the three demi-human forces has stopped."

Annabelle remained silent for a few seconds, as if processing the news.

Then she said coldly, "You must be joking. The lizardmen, werewolves, and orcs occupy a separate area in the slums, their hatred runs deep, and their fighting has never stopped. How could they possibly reconcile suddenly?"

"I can't believe it either." The division commander rested his elbows on the table, his fingers clasped together, his tone heavy.

"However, if this is true, we cannot stand idly by. As you and I know, the reason why the Kingdom of Cecil has been stable to this day is precisely because of the solidity of its class system."

“Understood,” Annabelle nodded.

"The class system is stable because the urban population can vent their discontent on the poor, and the poor, in turn, hate each other and direct their anger at other ethnic groups. This downward transmission of anger and hatred is the lubricant for maintaining order."

“But once the slums unite…” Julius’s gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s, “that anger could be directed at the citizens, and even… the nobles.”

His words echoed for a long time in the empty conference room.

Annabelle was silent for a moment before finally speaking: "You suspect that someone is orchestrating this?"

“Perhaps it was a coincidence,” Julius said in a low voice, “but it is also possible that someone intervened and mediated, which led to this peace.”

"Someone?"

Annabelle's expression changed, a sharp glint flashing in her blue eyes.

"I don't believe it. The leaders of these three factions—Swiftwind Fina, Tyrant Dova, and Iron-Wrist Leia—aren't they all notorious violent elements from the slums?"

"The hatred between them is deep-seated, with countless blood debts. How could they possibly shake hands and make peace because of one person?"

“That’s what I think too.” Julius smiled wryly. “The credibility of this intelligence is not high, but… there is one thing worth noting.”

He pushed the file toward Annabelle, his voice low: "It's said that the three of them have been frequently appearing in the same place lately."

"The same place?" Annabelle flipped through the file, her eyes narrowing. "...An unlicensed medical facility?"

“That’s right.” He nodded. “And the owner of that treatment center is a… unknown young man.”

"His name is—Sherlock."

At this moment, the live stream camera suddenly zoomed in.

G-chan's voice rang out, her tone excited:
[It's here! The power struggle in the capital city is finally here!]

[Sherlock: I'm just a healer, how did I suddenly become a threat to the kingdom's security?]

If the Royal Guard Division really makes a move, will Sherlock retaliate by wiping out an entire country?

“Sherlock…” Annabelle murmured.

Her gaze gradually turned cold, like a spear being sharpened.

"I will go to the slums myself."

“Very good.” Julius nodded. “Don’t alert them. Observe first.”

"clear."

"If the rumor is true, and there really is such an influential person, then we cannot ignore it."

Julius's voice was deep and resonant, echoing in the quiet conference room.

“Our Royal Guard Division must keep an eye on that man.”

The night was deep, but the lights of the Royal Guard Headquarters remained bright. Outside the windows lay the night view of the royal capital's special district, where magical lights adorned the towers and streets like a galaxy. But within this fortress guarding the royal capital, the issues weighed more heavily than the night itself.

"Is this why you asked me to come here?"

Annabelle maintained the same posture she had when she first entered the room, standing tall and straight like a spear, her eyes sharp as knives.

"Yes."

Her image was reflected in Julius's pupils, and his voice was as deep and resonant as an ancient bell, "This issue could very well be related to the safety of the nation. I cannot entrust it to my subordinates. I want to entrust this task directly to you."

A brief silence fell over the meeting room.

Annabelle didn't question anything, nor did she say anything more. She simply raised her right hand slowly and gave a crisp, standard military salute.

"Leave it to my subordinates. If such a person truly exists, I will definitely bring him back."

Julius's lips curled slightly, his voice deep yet powerful:

"I'm really looking forward to your performance. It's up to you, 'Iron Lady'."

The title, as cold as iron, fell upon her shoulders like a battle horn.

"Achoo—!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the capital—in the ruins of the slums—a sudden sneeze shattered the silence. "Lord Sherlock, are you catching a cold?"

Dowa immediately came over, her gray wolf tail swaying incessantly. "Do you need Dowa to warm you up with her fur?"

"That's my job."

Léa stood up defiantly, patted her shoulder, and said, "Actually, muscles are surprisingly warm, and I also have these breasts."

"Then let's use Fufu's... fur... no, we don't have muscle... we don't have breasts either..."

Fufu tilted her little head back and forth, muttered to herself for a few seconds, then stomped her foot, "I'm going to make some black tea!"

Do you think I'm a three-year-old?

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead, sitting in a chair by the window in the treatment room, looking helplessly at everyone.

"I just sneezed, you're all making a big fuss. I'm busy treating someone, please keep quiet."

Although his tone was soft, these "female patients" paid close attention to every detail about him.

G-chan is rolling around in the live stream:
[Sherlock sneezes, and the entire female leadership team of the slums activates.]

[Fufu's inner monologue: I have nothing! But I have black tea!]

[The daily life at the treatment center is so hilarious!]

Sitting opposite Sherlock were the lizard siblings, Fina and Child.

The two men had makeshift bandages wrapped around their arms, with traces of blood seeping out.

Sherlock raised his hand, a gentle white light emanating from his palm, and lightly placed it on Fina's arm.

Magic flowed in like a stream, carrying a slight warmth that penetrated through the flesh. In just a few seconds, the torn wound healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, leaving not even a scar.

"Doctor, your healing magic is truly..."

Fina looked down at her arm, which had fully recovered, her tone carrying an indescribable emotion.

"Every time I see it, I'm amazed. I even want to deliberately get injured to see how you treat patients."

“I will not treat patients whose motives are not pure.”

Sherlock's tone was calm, yet undeniably authoritative.

“Hehe…” Fina chuckled, a sly smile curving her alluring lips. “You always say you’re willing to help people get treatment as long as you can get the money, but you still stick to your principles.”

Fufu came over with freshly brewed black tea and gently placed the tea tray on the table.

"Speaking of which, Miss Fina, it seems like it's been a long time since you've been here as a patient for treatment?"

"Oh, Fufu," Fina covered her mouth and laughed. "Why do you make it sound like I'm not a patient, but I keep coming to bother you?"

"You clearly come here to bother me all the time."

Sherlock made a sarcastic remark without any expression.

Fina lifted her long hair beneath the metal arm guard and gently stroked her newly healed arm.

"I want to make it clear beforehand that my injury this time is not because I fought with those two guys next to me who are 'not patients'."

Her eyes were slightly cold, but her tone remained relaxed: "It was just a minor issue that arose at work."

"Yes, I know you're a... thief."

But unlike the traditional image of a thief, Fina's targets are always unscrupulous merchants, unethical nobles, and privileged classes. Although her actions are illegal, she is regarded as a "righteous thief" by the residents of the slums.

"Actually, we've been targeted by the Royal Guard Division."

Her tone shifted, and her eyes suddenly sharpened.

“Yesterday, while I was ‘working,’ I got into a fight with them. As a result, I was careless and got injured.”

Sherlock frowned.

"By the way... you two siblings also injured your arms last time. Was that also the work of the Guard Division?"

Childe frowned, his expression not looking good.

"Yes."

He said, "I was running into the special zone when that guy burned my arm with a magic gun."

Fina added, "Me too. That guy suddenly launched a poison-attribute magic at me."

"...That guy?"

Sherlock repeated in a low voice.

The siblings both showed expressions of disgust.

"There is a dangerous woman in the Imperial Guard Division."

Fina said through gritted teeth, "She always has a blank expression, but she is ruthless when she strikes, and she always targets vital points."

"I still dream about being chased by her, and I wake up from the nightmare."

Child clenched his fists, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes.

"I remember she was the deputy division commander."

Fina whispered, "She's also known in aristocratic circles as the 'Iron Lady'."

"'Iron Lady'..."

Sherlock repeated the title thoughtfully.

Just as he finished speaking, Ophelia, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly curled the corners of her mouth into a smile.

She looked up, her ruby-like eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

"Heh...Interesting."

G-chan excitedly spammed the chat with virtual gifts:

[It's here! The Royal Capital Line and the Treatment Hospital Line converge!]

[Iron Lady VS Death King, I have a feeling this is going to be a big show!]

[Sherlock: I caught a cold, and the government sent the deputy commander to investigate me?]

……

"Hehehe... If you get targeted by that kind of woman, you'll be in for a lot of trouble."

Ophelia sat by the window of the treatment center, sipping her black tea and letting out a sinister laugh.

Her long, silvery-white hair swayed slightly in the breeze blowing in from the window, and her ruby-like eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement at the spectacle.

“This place is already a gathering place for troublesome women. If one more comes, it will really turn the world upside down.”

"...Huh? Miss Ophelia, shouldn't Fou be considered a normal person?"

Fufu carefully raised her hand, her voice soft and sweet, like a little elf who might be blown away by the wind at any moment.

She blinked her large blue eyes somewhat uneasily, as if trying to gain recognition as a "normal person."

Sherlock glanced at her and scratched the back of his head helplessly.

"This has nothing to do with me, right? I'm just an unlicensed healer living on Ruins Street. I don't think the great deputy commander of the Royal Guard Division would be interested in a nobody like me."

"That's hard to say," Ophelia laughed even more heartily. "Necromancers' premonitions are usually very accurate." (End of Chapter)