Chapter 1:  My Sugar Mommy Girlfriend

Albion was raining.

Drizzle, drizzle.

Albion was raining.

Drizzle, drizzle.

Every spring and summer, the Albion Empire would enter a season of endless drizzle, like the empire’s thirty-three-year-long war that never seemed to end.

Raindrops fell onto the stone roads.

Raindrops fell onto the armor of knights.

The Seventh Knight Order, the most powerful armed force in the empire, had arrived at the empire’s border fortress city.

Brittany.

Countless knights stood in orderly formation, marching through Brittany’s rain toward the battlefield of hell.

The rain would carry them home.

As the most important city on Albion’s border, the moment war reached Brittany, it marked that the war was not going well. Regardless of the circumstances, this city was one the empire had to hold at all costs.

Compared to the solemn, marching streets of Brittany—

In a remote corner of District 13, there existed a small, rarely visited café.

It seemed completely untouched by the war.

The location was so out of the way that it was obvious this café wasn’t aiming to make money.

Ning Luo looked up at the misty, rain-blurred city beyond the window. To say the war had no effect on him was impossible—once it reached the city, it meant he’d have to leave.

He was the café’s only staff member—barista, cashier, janitor, and manager all in one.

Just like all those stories about people who traveled from another world.

Wait—no, that wasn’t quite right.

To be precise, the most accurate and least misleading term would be: a reincarnator who retained the memories of a previous life in another world.

This world somewhat resembled the Renaissance period from Ning Luo’s previous life.

The biggest difference?

It was a society with a highly developed magical civilization—so developed, in fact, that human lifespans were much longer than they should be for that era. That was also why the war could drag on for thirty-three years.

And Ning Luo was a magical dud.

In theory, if you followed the usual plotline, someone from another world arriving in a magical realm, born with no talent, orphaned, and impoverished—well, that was the classic setup for a chosen one destined to walk an extraordinary path.

At some point, this ordinary magical dud should shock the world.

But reality proved—

Ning Luo was thinking too much.

Unless you wanted to be Albion’s number one comic relief, no one cared whether you were a magical dud or not. Even joining the military required exams in military theory. The Seventh Knight Order currently on the march relied on armor and artillery produced by the magical industrial complex—not grand mages who could take on entire armies alone.

Just like no one in Ning Luo’s previous life ever taught modern physics and chemistry by asking students to wave wands.

Brittany University only offered Alchemy of Nature and Natural Pharmaceutics, which, at their core, were still physics and chemistry.

In a sense, the fact that this path didn’t work out was actually perfect for Ning Luo—after all, he was a magical dud. It was still better than living in a world where magic alone ruled supreme. With his elite economics degree from a top university in his past life, making money—while not quite as easy as lying down and watching it flow in—was still a matter of choosing how he wanted to earn it.

But Ning Luo was still thinking too much.

This was the imperial era. If you wanted to change your social class, the only way was through education—getting into a top university, then working for nobles or emerging capitalists. In this age, without recommendation letters or academic credentials, it was nearly impossible to get anywhere.

If this had been a normal school system, then for someone like Ning Luo, who had been a grind-student in his previous life, it wouldn’t have been difficult at all.

But this was a different world. The subjects and exams were completely different.

And more importantly—

Ning Luo was broke.

Calling him a workhorse would’ve been too kind. Not only did he have to juggle part-time jobs while attending school, but he also had to send money home to support his younger sister's education. It left him with barely any time to study.

Theoretically—

Given Ning Luo’s background, managing to get into Brittany University, one of the top institutions in the empire, was already an incredible stroke of luck. As long as he could graduate, the recommendation letter from the university would be enough to land him a very well-paying job. At the very least, he’d never have to worry about basic needs again.

But Ning Luo had a reason—an unavoidable one—for needing to earn enough money now.

The reason?

"What are you thinking about?"

A slender, pale hand waved in front of Ning Luo’s eyes.

Sitting across from him was a girl so stunning it almost felt unreal.

She had long, silver-white hair and enchanting amethyst eyes. She wore a black off-shoulder sweater that revealed smooth, round shoulders. If one leaned in closer, they could catch a glimpse beneath her arm and along the side of her breast. The contrast between the black sweater and her snow-white skin was striking. Her legs, fair and flawless like jade, were bare in the cool air, her delicate feet tucked into black high heels.

Isabella Bridge.

The café’s only customer.

And also, Ning Luo’s longtime girlfriend.

Many people were curious about how a broke guy like Ning Luo had managed to land such a gorgeous girlfriend.

And to be honest, even Ning Luo found it confusing.

After all, he was poor and plain-looking.

Okay—

Maybe not quite ugly.

And Isabella wasn’t just beautiful. She was also unbelievably gentle and considerate.

If Ning Luo’s guess was right—

The unseen owner behind this café, the one he had never once met, was Isabella herself. In other words, Isabella came from a very noble background.

But Ning Luo never exposed her. First, because he was currently too poor to waste time on meaningless part-time jobs. Second, he had to think about the future. Given his current status, staying with Isabella wasn’t going to be easy.

Dating could be just between him and Isabella.

Marriage was not.

Marriage meant two families coming together.

And Ning Luo had enough self-awareness.

If his sister had fallen for a broke loser like him—and even paid to support such a useless guy—Ning Luo himself would’ve exploded on the spot.

He looked across at Isabella.

"In Brittany, it’s not too bad. But if we go back to the imperial capital, having such a beautiful girlfriend would seriously mess with my sense of security."

"I believe that’s your problem, Mr. Ning Luo, not mine," Isabella replied with a soft smile.

Ning Luo joked half-seriously, "Maybe you could be a little worse to me. Miss Isabella is just too nice to me. So nice, in fact, that I’m starting to wonder if you might actually be my mom."

It had to be said—Isabella really was excessively good to Ning Luo.

The entire café seemed like it existed just to give him a job and preserve his dignity.

And that wasn’t even all.

In every aspect of daily life, Isabella cared for Ning Luo almost like a mother would. It reached a point where her kindness made him question reality.

...

"If Mr. Ning Luo wants to call me ‘Mom’..."

Outside the window, the fine rain continued to fall.

Isabella’s violet eyes remained fixed on Ning Luo.

She propped her chin up with slender fingers, a faint smile playing at her lips, as if she could see right through his thoughts.

"It’s not impossible."

"I refuse!"

How could anyone call a seventeen-year-old beauty with a large chest, slender waist, and long legs their mom?

...

Then again... it was kind of hot.

It was undeniable that the word, when used for a non-relative woman, came packed with suggestive undertones.

Still, Ning Luo chalked up Isabella’s behavior to classic emotional compensation.

Like him, Isabella had lost her mother at a very young age. Growing up without affection or attention, she had developed a habit of caring for others—excessively so—as a way to fill the void in her own heart.

At least Ning Luo had a younger sister. Isabella, on the other hand, had taken it upon herself to assume the "mom role" right in front of him.

That said—

Ning Luo still had to treat Isabella as his fiancée and think seriously about their future.

"When we return to the capital, what kind of job do you think would suit me?" he asked.

"Wouldn’t working at the court be perfect? If you start at the Lentinium Court, with your abilities, Mr. Ning Luo, you could become a Grand Justice of the Empire within thirty years."

Due to the war—

Now that the conflict had reached Brittany, it was no longer safe to stay. The best option was to return to the imperial capital: Lentinium.

The reason Ning Luo studied law in the first place was because law schools were funded by the Church. They offered more generous scholarships and had lower tuition fees.

Calling Isabella "mom" made a bit more sense in that context—she had even planned out his entire future. Starting straight from the high court of Lentinium, that alone placed him far ahead of most law students.

Becoming a Grand Justice within thirty years—most people couldn't even dream of reaching that height in their entire lifetime.

Still, Ning Luo shook his head.

"Working at the court is fine. But promotions are way too slow."

"Isn't thirty years fast enough?"

"I need it done in three."

That made Isabella laugh. She leaned in and asked,

"Then what other conditions do you have, Mr. Ning Luo?"

"Preferably something related to economics. Something that lets me make money quickly. Not just wealth—I need a position that also gives me the kind of social standing a Grand Justice would have."

Truthfully, Grand Justice was the ideal upward path.

Isabella wasn’t just rich. Her elegance and bearing clearly showed that she came from a prestigious lineage. Old noble families like hers looked down on the nouveau riche. Only someone with significant social standing could ever hope to be accepted.

But Ning Luo’s standards were even higher.

Isabella tilted her head curiously.

"What is economics?"

"Let me think... studying markets... You can think of it as finances and currency."

"So Mr. Ning Luo is very skilled in financial systems?"

"Yes."

This was the one area where Ning Luo could truly wear a confident smile.

"In this era, I call myself second—no one dares claim first."

"Then why didn’t I know that?" Isabella teased.

Isabella hit Ning Luo right where it hurt.

After all, in this era, Isabella was probably the person who understood Ning Luo best. Naturally, she also knew just how broke he was. So when Ning Luo claimed to be an expert in financial systems, her first instinct was: I don’t buy it.

That’s just how economists were.

If you really understood economics, then you’d best go out and do something useful with it.

Ning Luo felt a little awkward.

"I’m always ready to be tested," he said.

"Then I do have a question I’d really like to know the answer to."

"Please."

...

Isabella turned her gaze toward the window.

From their vantage point, the Seventh Knight Order was visible, passing through the streets on their way to the battlefield, their iron hooves pounding with heavy rhythm.

"The Empire’s war has dragged on for thirty-three years now, with no end in sight. We're simultaneously fighting both the Fontaine Kingdom and the Castilian Empire. Every year, we spend about five million silver florins, while our total annual GDP is only around fifteen million. It’s fair to say the Empire’s finances are already underwater."

She looked back at Ning Luo.

"So then... newly appointed Finance Minister Ning Luo, how will you resolve the Empire’s financial crisis?"

"The real issue isn’t the war itself. It’s how badly the Empire wants to win this war. Can I confirm that the Empire absolutely must win, no matter the cost?"

"Yes. The Empire cannot afford to lose."

It wasn’t just Albion that couldn’t afford to lose.

The Fontaine Kingdom and the Castilian Empire couldn’t afford it either.

This war had already consumed thirty-three years of manpower, material, and wealth. If Albion could win, then everything would have been worth it. But losing—that could mean the entire Empire collapsing.

"Then the answer becomes simple."

Ning Luo placed a cup of coffee in front of Isabella, then sat down directly across from her.

"Isabella, do you know what the Empire’s main sources of revenue are?"

"Land and taxes."

"Exactly. A significant portion of the Empire’s income comes from land and taxation. And both of those are incredibly difficult to touch. Tinkering with either the tax system or land policy would trigger backlash from every social class within the Empire. If you collect too much tax, people’s quality of life plummets. In years of disaster, you could even push them to revolt. But if you collect too little, the government doesn’t have enough revenue to sustain a war of this scale. It’s a delicate balance—which is exactly why this war has reached a stalemate."

"So what’s the plan?"

"Whatever method we choose has to meet two conditions. First, it mustn’t disrupt the current system too aggressively—at least not in a way that threatens the existing balance of power. Second, it must bring in enough funding to break the balance between nations."

"Does such a good solution really exist?"

"That depends on whether the Empire is willing to pay the price. Right now, all the kingdoms and empires have similar tax systems, and their annual revenues are roughly comparable. But what if—what if we could spend future money?"

"You’re suggesting the Empire borrows money? But we’re talking about an astronomical amount—no one has that kind of money lying around."

Indeed, the amount of funding the Empire needed wasn’t small. Not by a long shot.

We weren’t talking about a few thousand or even tens of thousands of silver florins—but millions.

An amount so staggering that no individual could possibly cover it. Those capable of fronting such a sum were the city-states of the Apennine Peninsula, whose primary industry was banking. But even then, a loan of several million florins could instantly drain their capital reserves.

And given that the great empires had been deadlocked in war for years—

If a city-state on the Apennines chose to loan money to the Albion Empire, it would be equivalent to betting everything on Albion winning this war. Especially since, at the moment, Albion was on the losing side.

The financial powers of the Apennine Peninsula were gamblers, yes—

But not lunatics.

"There are very few individuals who could afford that kind of wealth. But what if it came from citizens—millions of them—each contributing a small part?"

"You’re saying the Empire should borrow money from the people?"

"Exactly. You can even give it a proper name—bonds. The government issues war bonds, promising that any imperial citizen who purchases one will, after five years, receive their principal back along with a set interest. That way, we can gather funds not just from the next few years, but even from decades into the future—and use that money to crush the other nations decisively."

"And what if the Empire can't repay it?"

"As long as we win the war, the land and reparations taken from the enemy will more than cover the cost of those war bonds."

"And what if the war still isn’t won in five years?"

"Then we move to more aggressive methods. Reclaim all minting rights across the Empire, establish a Central Bank, centralize control over currency issuance, then reduce the silver content in coins and massively increase money supply to repay the bonds. The downside is inflation—that is, prices go up, money loses value. But the goal is to win this war no matter what it takes. If we win, nothing else matters. And if we can’t win—then the Empire deserves to fall."

That was exactly why Ning Luo had asked Isabella earlier whether the Empire truly had to win at any cost.

Because the cost... was the Empire’s entire future.

If it couldn’t overcome everything—then it might as well be destroyed.

Isabella didn’t immediately agree or object.

"How many people do you think would actually buy war bonds?"

"I don’t know for sure—I haven’t done a social survey. But I estimate we could raise between two to three million silver florins per year through war bonds."

"And how would you deal with the Church?"

Any new financial policy the Empire implemented—

Was bound to affect someone’s interests.

Compared to changing tax or land policy, war bonds were certainly less disruptive. But they still touched a powerful faction within the Empire—

The Church.

The Church was the embodiment of conservatism. In their doctrine, lending was an act of the devil. All earnings should come from labor—any gain without work was considered a sin.

All humans who believed in the Lord were brothers and sisters. And among siblings, lending—especially with interest—was absolutely forbidden.

And war bonds?

They were the very definition of high-risk lending.

The Church’s only acceptable form of lending was one that charged no interest whatsoever.

Of course—

With no interest, imperial citizens weren’t idiots—who would buy such a thing?

Ning Luo picked up Isabella’s cup and took a small sip.

"Then we’ll just find a legal loophole. What the Empire gives its citizens isn’t loan interest—it’s compensation for damages incurred from buying war bonds."

As it turned out, in another world like this one—

You really did need to study law.

Isabella fell silent for a moment, pondering.

“Are there any other loopholes we can exploit?” she asked.

“There are,” Ning Luo replied. “For example, we can issue war bonds that don’t repay the principal, and instead pay long-term interest to citizens who buy them. By removing the principal from the repayment structure—the core element of a loan—we transform the bond from a debt instrument into an investment vehicle. The only question then is whether the citizens of the Empire are too conservative to accept it.”

After all, this was still the old imperial era.

If the citizens were too traditional, it would be hard for them to accept such a novel financial instrument. At the end of the day, Ning Luo was still just gaming the legal system.

If the people couldn’t accept it, then they wouldn’t buy in, and the funds wouldn’t be raised. That would make the whole plan meaningless.

Compared to Ning Luo’s pragmatic, systems-level thinking—

Isabella’s thought process was different.

In her eyes, Ning Luo was a true genius. A thinker so far ahead of his time that his ideas were bound to leave a mark on history.

She genuinely believed this plan could resolve the Empire’s financial crisis.

But—

The implications behind this were far bigger than just whether the Empire could win its war.

It would mark the beginning of a power struggle between imperial sovereignty and the authority of the Church. This would be an event powerful enough to shake the foundations of the Empire’s civilization—a true turning point in history.

Isabella took a deep breath.

“Alright, my dear Mr. Ning Luo. While I can’t directly implement your idea myself, I can report it up the chain.”

“And what kind of reward will my dear Miss Isabella give me for this?” Ning Luo grinned.

“Haven’t I already given it to you?”

“What is it?” Ning Luo asked, genuinely puzzled.

Inside the dim, quiet café, the sound of soft rain continued outside.

Isabella rested her chin on the backs of her interlaced fingers, her gaze fixed on Ning Luo, and in those deep violet eyes—

Was his reflection.

“Me.”

...

...

Let’s just say—

This woman knew exactly how to play Ning Luo.

And that was precisely why Ning Luo was so desperate to keep improving.

"Ahem, let’s get back on topic," he said, clearing his throat. "Is there any job you think would actually suit me?"

“There really is,” Isabella said with a sly smile.

“What is it?”

Isabella blinked playfully.

“A secret. I’ll come find you tomorrow.”

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