Building a Terrorist Group in The Academy Novel

In the mansion's main study, Aiden sat at the head of the room.

Before him were all fifteen slaves, plus Dev, seated around a long table that had been recently placed in the center.

Some of the slaves were even sitting on the floor due to a lack of chairs. The study was too small to accommodate them all comfortably.

The two sofas that used to be there had been replaced by common chairs.

Piles of papers cluttered the long table and the desk in front of Aiden. His gaze swept across the group.

Most of the slaves looked nervous, casting fearful glances his way.

They knew who their new master was, and the consequences of failing him weighed heavily on their minds.

Dev, on the other hand, sat slouched in his chair, nodding off.

Every few moments, his head dipped, and he jerked awake before falling again into another dazed stupor.

He seemed entirely unaffected by the tense atmosphere around him.

Dressed now in a clean green shirt and black trousers, with his hair no longer matted with dirt but washed to a snowy white, he resembled a rich noble’s son.

Aiden had heard the maids gossiping about his "cute" appearance—he looked like someone older women would want to dote on.

“I suppose you already know the reasons I bought all of you,” Aiden’s voice cut through the silence, authoritative and commanding.

The slaves exchanged bewildered glances. It was an unusual situation.

What noble would entrust the management of their territory to a group of slaves?

If word got out, the people would surely disapprove.

“Your job is simple,” Aiden continued. “You’ll follow my commands and handle the territory’s affairs. Each of you will be assigned to the field you’re most comfortable with. First, though, I want you to read through these reports.” He gestured to the stacks of paper. “You’ll summarize them in half an hour.” His tone left no room for argument.

The slaves looked stunned. This was a difficult task, especially in such a short time.

But Aiden didn’t wait for them to protest.

“The reports in front of you are divided into five categories: Political issues, military affairs, social issues, economics, and trade. Now, stop staring and start reading.”

The slaves snapped into action as if jolted by lightning. They hunched over their papers, reading feverishly.

None of them wanted to displease their new master.

Aiden watched them for a moment, satisfied with their focus.

His gaze then shifted to Dev, who had his head in his hands, still dozing off. Aiden called out his name.

Dev jerked awake, blinking with a silly smile. “Hello, big brother. When did you get here? And why are there so many people in the room?”

Aiden had to resist the urge to throw something at him.

The boy’s cluelessness was exhausting, but instead of scolding him, Aiden said, “Remember what I told you? This is your first job. Read these reports and tell me if you can come up with any solutions.”

Dev’s face twisted into a reluctant frown, but after a moment, he remembered Aiden’s earlier words.

He brightened, though still unwilling, and picked up one of the reports.

However, as soon as he started reading, he put the paper down and grabbed another. He repeated the process multiple times within seconds.

Aiden raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t tell if Dev simply didn’t understand any of the content, was trying to look busy, or was genuinely doing his best.

Time passed quickly. After half an hour, most of the slaves had finished reading through the reports.

They looked exhausted, visibly worn down by the pressure of working under Aiden’s watchful eye.

Many had beads of sweat on their foreheads, and their hands trembled slightly from the tension.

Dev, in particular, looked ready to collapse. His eyes were half-closed, but he was clearly fighting to stay awake, thinking about the promised reward Aiden had hinted at earlier.

“You’ve worked hard,” Aiden finally said, his voice cutting through their fatigue. “Now, share your thoughts on the state of the territory.”

One of the slaves stood up. He was a tall, thin man with brown hair and glasses.

A tall, thin slave with brown hair and glasses—one Aiden remembered as a former university professor—stood nervously. "My lord, I was responsible for reviewing the food situation. The grain prices are skyrocketing because of the ongoing conflict with the Demon Kingdom in the south. Traders are taking advantage and raising prices even further. If we don't do something, the people will struggle to afford basic necessities."

Aiden nodded, his expression unreadable, and gestured for the next person to speak.

A woman with pale skin and black hair stood next. She had been assigned to military affairs. “My lord,” she said hesitantly, “the army is severely underfunded. Most of the soldiers are deserting, seeking protection and wages from other lords. We barely have any trained men left to defend the territory. Our defenses are weak.”

Next, an elderly man, responsible for social issues, stood and spoke with a shaky voice. “The people are leaving, my lord. They’re fleeing to neighboring territories, where they feel safer. They’ve lost faith in this land.”

An old man stood next. "I looked into the economic state, my lord. The bureaucracy is a mess. Corruption is rampant, and the people are being taxed heavily. We lack a proper economic focus to support the territory, and with so many leaving, our tax base is dwindling."

Each report painted a darker picture of the territory’s decline.

Each painting a grim picture of Aiden's territory—decaying, but not yet in ruins. It was poor, with social problems, and the looming threat of total collapse hung over everything.

Once everyone had spoken, the atmosphere in the room grew heavy, almost suffocating.

The reports painted a grim picture: rising grain prices, rampant corruption, deserting soldiers, and weak defenses. The territory was teetering on the edge of collapse.

The weight of the situation settled over the room like a dark cloud. The slaves, fully aware that their fates were now tied to Aiden’s, felt it acutely. If the territory fell, they would fall with it.

Just as the tension seemed unbearable, Dev’s voice suddenly broke through the silence.

"About the political side…" His drowsy tone was unexpected and jarring, especially given the bleakness hanging in the air.

Heads turned toward him, eyes widening as they watched him blink sleepily. "Count Shein and Countess Davaris are enticing the people fleeing from here. They’re not going to just sit by while this territory crumbles."

The slaves exchanged astonished glances. Dev, who had barely been able to stay awake moments ago, was now delivering key insights.

His voice was still sluggish, pausing frequently as if he might nod off at any moment, but his words were sharp.

"Even our soldiers are deserting," Dev continued, stifling a yawn. "They haven’t been paid in months. We’re down to just three level-four knights and one level-five—Lady Soliana. But she’s stuck in the capital, dealing with diplomatic messes. She’s been asking for more money, but that’s running out too."

The room fell even quieter. The slaves were dumbstruck—how was the same boy who could barely keep his eyes open moments ago revealing such crucial information?

Dev paused again, his eyes half-closed. "These reports… they’re hiding things. If you read between the lines, it’s clear the problems are bigger than they seem.”

The slaves shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of his words as if the darkness in the room had deepened.

"For the political issues, we need to cut off the influence of Shein and Davaris. We should... incentivize people to stay, offer something they can’t get in neighboring lands," Dev suggested.

He yawned again before addressing the financial issues. "We need to get rid of the corrupt bureaucrats and set up a system where they can’t touch the funds. Maybe something like a common fund, where only trusted people can manage the taxes." He blinked as if struggling to keep his eyes open. "Something secure... like a... bank."

Aiden’s eyes widened at the word. A bank? In this world?

The slaves were left in stunned silence. Dev’s insight was unexpectedly sharp for someone who had seemed entirely out of touch just moments before.

"As for the economy..." Dev's voice trailed off again, but then his eyes, despite their exhaustion, glinted with a strange light. He turned his sleepy gaze toward Aiden. "I think big brother already has something in mind."

His words hung in the air, and Aiden met Dev’s gaze. Despite the boy’s fatigue, there was a brightness in his eyes that reminded Aiden of a smoldering fire—faint but unmistakable. For a brief moment, it was like looking into a mirror of his own ambition.

The slaves were dumbfounded. Dev, who had seemed utterly incapable of staying awake, was now giving sharp, insightful comments.

Then, Dev turned to Aiden with half-closed eyes but a strange brightness behind them, as if he was entirely aware of the impact his words had.

His eyes gleamed like a faint fire before quickly dimming, the fatigue returning.

Aiden narrowed his eyes. ‘There’s something about this boy… Those eyes… they remind me of my own.’

Aiden suppressed a smile. This boy was not ordinary, but Aiden had seen enough to know there was more to him.

Aiden couldn’t help but feel impressed. He hadn’t expected Dev to perform so well.

Standing up, he addressed the group. “You’ve all done well. Now, take some time to think of solutions to the problems discussed today.”

Then, turning to Dev, he said, “Tell one of the maids to take you to your bed.”

Dev blinked. “What’s a bed?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Your reward,” Aiden replied.

As the slaves started leaving the room, Aiden remained seated, watching them in silence.

The atmosphere was still heavy from the grim revelations about the state of his territory. The weight of the problems they had discussed pressed down on him like an invisible burden, but he didn’t let it show.

He knew this was only the beginning.

Despite the overwhelming challenges, Aiden felt certain that this was the right path.

Now that he had a clear picture of the issues, it was only a matter of addressing them one by one, with patience and precision.

He allowed himself a moment to recall the names of the nobles who were encroaching on his land—Count Shein, Countess Davaris. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.

His ambition stirred within him.

It didn’t matter who stood in his way—not even the Emperor himself. If anyone dared to obstruct his plans, Aiden would make sure they regretted it. No matter what it took.

With that thought burning in his mind, Aiden rose from his chair, preparing for the night’s auction.

The exhaustion from the day’s events was there, but so was his unrelenting resolve.