Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 147
Perhaps because the golden-haired deity had yet to learn to conceal his emotions, his overly candid and fervent gaze quickly caught Oliver’s attention.
Noticing the Cat God’s burning stare fixed on a particular spot, the blond lord couldn’t help but frown.
What was this—still craving despite being a lightweight?
“My dear Cat God,” Oliver said, suppressing a laugh and speaking with utmost seriousness. “Though I would gladly offer you the finest things, please believe me when I say that distilled liquor is far too harsh and pungent. If you truly favored yesterday’s fruit wine, I can have a cup prepared for you daily. Would that please you?”
Without waiting for the cat-eared deity’s reply, he naturally took the other’s hand and, in a voice enchanting enough to delight a god, added with a touch of melancholy, “You suddenly got drunk last night and lost control of your divine power, which worried me greatly. Alas, my own strength is too feeble to protect you… If that formidable God of Death were to challenge you again, what could I do but fret helplessly?”
The golden-haired deity stared wide-eyed.
Though he couldn’t quite grasp the reason, hearing Oliver speak such sweet words made the tips of his ears burn as if scorched by Deyth’s divine flames the night before.
Instantly forgetting the large pot of bubbling yellow liquid, he reflexively tightened his grip on Oliver’s hand and insisted earnestly, “Deyth… not strong.”
He’d driven him off twice already.
“Oliver need not worry,” he promised, his expression slightly clumsy but utterly sincere in Oliver’s eyes. “Besides, I don’t like wine……”
The blond lord blinked and asked casually, “My dear Cat God, what is it that you like, then?”
“Oliver.”
He answered without a second thought.
At first, Oliver didn’t catch his meaning, assuming he meant to say something else, and simply hummed in acknowledgment.
But after a brief pause, all that followed was the deity’s unwavering, intense gaze—no further explanation…
Only then did Oliver realize he had actually been answering the earlier question.
How would an ordinary person react upon being earnestly confessed to by a golden, shapeshifted cat in handsome human form, with words akin to “You are my favorite human”?
Oliver didn’t know how others might respond.
He only knew that, upon discerning this sweet answer and meeting those clear, luminous golden eyes, his own thought was…
He really wanted to lean in and kiss him.
But with so many people around, he wisely suppressed the impulsive urge as soon as it arose.
The cat-eared deity, however, didn’t let the matter drop so easily.
With complete composure, and in full earshot of the butler Fosse who stood nearby, he solemnly emphasized, “Like Oliver most.”
Then, tilting his head, he added with emphasis, “Only like Oliver.”
Oliver: “……”
Even without turning to observe Fosse’s reaction, he could sense the sharp gaze the butler instantly directed at the Cat God.
Fosse narrowed his eyes dangerously.For some reason, he had never noticed before… this illegitimate son of the old king named “Jin” seemed far too attached to the young lord.
“My pleasure.”
Under the intense pressure from both sides, Oliver only hesitated for a brief moment before breaking into a radiant smile and cheerfully telling the Cat God: “And you actually occupy two spots among my favorites.”
He truly wasn’t lying.
You are both my most beloved deity and my most beloved cat.
Upon hearing this answer, the golden-haired deity couldn’t suppress his happiness and satisfaction, though he also felt somewhat confused.
Before he could sink into contemplation, Oliver—wanting to prevent him from making any more shocking public declarations—had already promptly sent the workers off for lunch and escorted Fosse and the deity to the dining hall himself.
During the meal, the lord, wanting to completely shift the topic, proactively discussed the next steps of the brewing process with the other stewards.
“Replace the brewing barrels with silverware?” Oliver shook his head with a smile. “Completely unnecessary. Silverware won’t produce better flavor than copperware—it only serves to deceive nobles who don’t know better.”
Indeed, though they were temporarily making do with wooden barrels, the first thing Oliver planned to do after receiving the initial profits was to expand and improve the distillation equipment and switch to copper brewing vessels. This was because copper not only offered excellent thermal conductivity but could also remove some sulfides produced during brewing.
After distillation, the large stockpile of oak wood he had accumulated in his game warehouse would come in handy: storing distilled liquor in oak barrels could mellow and mature the whiskey’s flavor, gradually transforming its color from the initial “transparent” state to beautiful hues related to the ingredients.
The steward who had made the suggestion looked embarrassed and was about to apologize when Oliver reassured him: “Your idea is quite good. Indeed, there will always be noble customers who demand something ‘unique.’ Trying to increase the liquor’s price by focusing on equipment is the simplest method… but don’t forget, their palates are as picky as their temperaments.”
Only those “nouveau riche upstarts” eager to prove themselves or low-ranking nobles gradually being pushed out of power centers would blindly chase superficial “prestige and expense.”
The major nobles willing to spend extravagantly on luxury items like liquor possessed exceptionally discerning tastes.
Rather than deceiving future important clients or relying on gimmicks to raise prices, Oliver’s approach was far more pragmatic.
He stared at the corn kernels in his egg drop soup for a moment, then suddenly remembered something, his eyes lighting up.
How could he have forgotten this?
Regarding grains, people typically dried the harvested crops entirely, then shelled them grain by grain for storage or ground them into flour.
As the climate grew warmer, the shelf life shortened, and the flour’s flavor grew increasingly peculiar.
In reality, there was actually a more popular storage method—especially since it seemed such a waste not to utilize the substantial heat generated during brewing.
Considering this, Oliver immediately ordered someone to procure a batch of grains including corn and oats.
After mixing them together, subjecting them to cooking that allowed full starch gelatinization and partial drying, then baking them beside the stove where saccharified wort was being kept warm and simmered, they became crispy.
Upon obtaining the first batch of items resembling the familiar “corn flakes,” Oliver unhesitatingly sprinkled them into plain porridge and fed it to the curious golden-haired deity, seemingly to compensate for forbidding the Cat God from drinking alcohol.
He also tasted it without hesitation.
Crunch.
The moment the deep-yellow flakes shattered between his teeth, he froze.
His handsome features—usually appearing cold and aloof to others, but always somewhat dazed in Oliver’s eyes—quickly furrowed.
It feels… really strange.
He didn’t know how to describe this peculiar texture.
Crispier than the dried little fish Oliver often tried to feed him back when he was still a golden cat, but sweet.
So strange.
Silently making this judgment, he couldn’t help but chew a bit more.
Crunch, crunch.
Too strange.
Thinking this, he decided… to have a little more.
Seeing his serious expression yet rapid consumption of the corn flakes, Oliver was largely reassured.
In fact, this corn flake food—once popular in the near-modern Western society he knew—actually beat the yet-to-be-invented distilled liquor to rapidly sweep across the entire Albury territory.
“No one, no one can resist this golden corn flake!”
Arte swore to the heavens while gleefully adding various seasonings far exceeding its original value during its production, completely treating it as a snack.
And when others tried to persuade him to eat something else, he’d put on an unyielding expression and loudly declare, “Even if I have to eat only this for the whole next year, I’d never get tired of it!”
The pleasure that even the noble lord’s picky palate couldn’t resist naturally completely captivated commoners and slaves alike—who could resist such incomparably delightful food at such damnably affordable prices?
The most addictive aspects, besides its captivating crispiness, were its shelf life—longer than some flours.
After repeated experiments, the great and generous Lord directly made the corn flake recipe public.
After that, although not every household could afford the luxury of frequent stove baking, the people of Albury quickly developed the new habit of “never forget to place corn flakes nearby whenever the stove emits heat.”
After finishing dinner, simply shave the grain dough thin and place it by the stove; by the next morning, crispy grain flakes would be ready to eat!
This sudden corn flake craze spread back to Laina faster than Oliver expected, then reached traveling merchants…
When Albury’s belated Spring Market finally opened on Spring Day 70—the tail end of spring—the first question merchants large and small from the three major mining cities urgently asked was: “My good friend, got any corn flakes? Hey, since I came all the way here, have a heart—I’ll take all you’ve got!”
However enthusiastic the merchants were, they couldn’t overcome the Albury people’s absolute determination not to sell corn flakes.
What a joke—they didn’t even have enough for themselves!
After all, Albury had completely missed both the autumn and winter harvests. If not for the Lord bringing in large quantities of emergency food supplies from Laina City, they wouldn’t be able to enjoy the luxury of eating until eighty percent full every day like they did now. Instead, they’d have to barely survive on wild vegetables and fruits from the forests and fields.
Even with the Lord personally leading the efforts and the crops growing well in the fields, the first harvest wouldn’t come until at least mid-summer—how could they possibly have enough surplus to sell to merchants from other cities?
When Oliver heard about the merchants’ complaints at the Spring Market, he found himself somewhat amused by the unintended consequences.
Watching the merchants waving gold coins while desperately seeking to purchase large quantities of corn flakes, he found it hard to remain indifferent.
After thinking for a moment, he couldn’t help but look at Fosse and say, half-jokingly and half-seriously, “My dear butler, what if we take this opportunity to launch a ‘buy corn flakes, get distilled liquor free’ promotion?”
