Black-Haired Dad Isn’t Something You Reap - Chapter 218

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 218. For the Narrator’s Protection, This Chapter Proceeds in Third Person (5)
How could every single word drip with such vulgarity? Pisha, still unaccustomed to the sudden emergence of plebeian capitalism in a monarchical state, swayed dizzily on her feet.
“Are you alright?”
Under normal circumstances, Croa would have made a fuss if Pisha had merely pricked her finger on paper, rushing about demanding a tetanus shot. But this time, he felt no urge to steady her. He could see through the performance entirely.
“….”
No. Whether it was an act or not didn’t matter. If the normal Pisha had feigned dizziness, Croa would have rushed over—if only to prevent her from making the foolish mistake of actually tripping and falling. He despised himself for treating her differently simply because she had changed slightly.
“I cannot believe I said such a thing.”
“Lower your tone!”
He hated being stingy with Pisha, but he hated the changed Pisha even more. Why in the world was she using formal speech with someone like him? Formal speech was meant for those of higher standing. Of course, Croa was the King of Media and Vishnabel was a Princess, so technically his rank was higher, but seeing her insist on propriety even in private made him want to scream.
“Why are you getting angry!”
“Exactly. That’s it.”
Just now, she sounded like the real Pisha. Good. Croa decided to treasure this flutter in his chest and hurried to see his father. He wanted to restore Pisha to her former self as quickly as possible so he could be thoroughly scolded by her.
“Father! Father, this is not the time for this! Every moment is critical!”
Croa burst through the office door, ready to demand that Nanakda be brought here immediately for execution or whatever needed to be done. Inside, Chiron was working late into the night, wearing glasses used for reading small text.
“Father! You’re dressed quite fashionably today—something that would appeal to a small number of perverts!”
“Do you want to die?”
“Hehe, no.”
Being insulted by the Imperial Family of Kisomalos was truly a peaceful thing. Croa felt gratitude for the gentle tranquility spreading from his stomach to his duodenum, then showed his father the plan that Pisha had brought.
“Her Highness the Princess brought this plan. We need to catch that bastard Nanakda immediately and execute him by hanging. If we leave Pisha as she is, disaster will strike!”
As Croa made a fuss, Ende quickly skimmed through the plan, flipping pages rapidly. Elementary education would be mandated as compulsory education, with all costs covered by the state… It was a plan the former Princess would never have suggested.
“It’s the complete opposite of the policy of keeping the people ignorant.”
“Exactly!”
“You lamented before that if the college graduation rate kept increasing like this, we’d face a revolution.”
“Father is the best! Tell me more!”
Croa felt his insides hollow out. Having someone in the Imperial Palace who would take his side was so precious.
“Well then, Abamama.”
“If you don’t stop calling me Abamama, I won’t listen to you.”
“Fine.”
“Call me that instead.”
“Hehehehe, you’re something else, Abamama.”
“I’m going mad.”
Chiron announced he was taking a cigarette break and strode out of the office. Croa grabbed at his cloak, begging him not to leave him alone in the room with Pisha, but the Emperor insisted that without his cigarette break, his mind would die, and he brushed off the Little One, walking briskly outside.
“Ahhh!”
Thrown to the ground, Croa swallowed his tears, sick of his own helplessness. As a child, he thought that when he grew older, he would match his father in strength. That’s why he trained so hard. But reality was cold. No amount of exercise could overcome innate physical superiority.
“Poor Croa. Are you alright?”
The normal Pisha would have said why he was being cocky when there was a weight class difference. Croa sighed with longing and redirected the conversation back to the main point.
“But why did you suddenly decide to implement compulsory education?”
No matter how much a person had changed, the idea of implementing compulsory education for young and weak commoners didn’t just appear like divine revelation. Suspecting she must have thought about it beforehand and prepared the plan accordingly, he asked, and Princess Vishnabel smiled with her usual hint of cunning.
“Hehe, I won’t become Emperor in a month, will I?”
“…That’s true.”
“Then shouldn’t I, as Emperor, establish one or two impactful policies that demonstrate what kind of ruler I am?”
This was precisely the sort of thinking Princess Vishnabel would propose. Yet the direction was so fundamentally sound and brimming with such genuine compassion for humanity that Croa found himself unable to suppress his resistance with another sharp “Ugh!”
“But… just one or two?”
Surely there wasn’t another agenda beyond the mandatory education ordinance? Croa felt cold sweat gathering in his palms as he turned the page of the proposal. As expected, after the education section concluded, the final boss awaited him.
“Healthcare insurance—absolutely not healthcare insurance!”
What nation takes responsibility for its citizens’ medical insurance? Vishnabel’s proposal outlined a plan where the state would subsidize a portion of citizens’ premiums to reduce overall costs, but that would inevitably result in annual deficits.
“Costs already arise from managing the insurance registry alone, and if we also reduce the burden on the common people, we’ll face massive deficits. This won’t be sustainable.”
“Are you saying poor commoners shouldn’t visit hospitals at all?!”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
This wasn’t something that could be fixed with minor adjustments. It needed to be completely dismantled before implementation even began. If they raised premiums after implementation to cover deficits, the people would revolt. If they created income-based disparities, the wealthy would rebel. And most critically, the Regia Group—the largest player among domestic insurers—would never stand idle.
If the Regia Chairman, one of Kisomalos’s greatest magnates, withdrew all domestic capital and fled to another nation, it would severely impact the market economy. And there was no telling what aggressive marketing tactics smaller insurance companies might employ, potentially dragging themselves into economic crimes.
This wasn’t merely throwing a stone into a calm domestic market—it was more like constructing a dam to control everything. Other business leaders wouldn’t remain silent either. These days, the alliances among the wealthy were genuinely tight-knit. Just like nobles, businessmen calculated mutual interests and made strategic marriages with one another.
“If it’s Regia, they’re in-laws with the transport company Ampola, and Ampola is related to distribution companies, so…”
Essentially, all the major enterprises were interconnected. If those people went on strike, department stores and markets across the nation would close simultaneously. Vishnabel was, after all, a princess, so she could declare execution for disobedience and they’d comply. But the current Pisha didn’t seem like she’d resort to such harsh measures.
Croa decided he had to prevent this at all costs and immediately dropped to his knees.
“Your Highness the Princess! Please reconsider!”
“C-Croa, why are you suddenly kneeling?”
“If all the capitalists flee, Kisomalos will collapse!”
In any case, the boy had a timid nature and tended to catastrophize every proposal. Pisha thought this while feeling hurt by his immediate opposition, and she pouted her lips.
“What does Kisomalos’s collapse have to do with Media?”
“How can you separate Kisomalos and Media in your thinking?! If Kisomalos collapses, all those refugees will come to Media!”
“Can you please stop arguing from the premise that Kisomalos will collapse?!”
While Pisha and Croa bickered back and forth, Chiron returned after his cigarette break. The moment he opened the door and entered, he found the two youngsters squabbling, and the man clicked his tongue in disappointment at missing the entertainment.
“Father, please look at this! We must arrest Nanakda immediately!”
The tattletale Croa crawled forward on his knees and thrust Pisha’s healthcare insurance proposal at him. Chiron, who had been glancing at it casually, saw the section about reducing citizens’ medical expenses to ten percent and immediately called for his secretary.
“Bring Nanakda here at once! If he fails to respond to the summons, I’ll issue a warrant across the entire Central Continental Alliance and make him a martyr!”
Father truly is the best! Croa clapped his hands and discussed methods of execution for Nanakda. Croa thought the electric chair would be fitting.
People generally think the electric chair kills quickly, but according to Shirley, when they actually strapped an execution prisoner into one, he remained alive for over ten minutes, writhing and begging to be killed—a sight she described as extraordinarily cruel and horrific. Wouldn’t that be perfect for Nanakda?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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