I had narrowly managed to catch my breath.

The worst-case scenario—a total paralysis of public institutions due to a lack of funds—had been averted. It was largely thanks to the tireless work of the photocopier in my house. There was simply no other way to churn out tens of thousands of bonds with a level of technical sophistication that seventeenth-century technology could never hope to forge.

I had stabilized the gift-trade system to keep it from grinding to a halt and effectively kicked the debt down the road, borrowing against the future to cover the immediate vacuum in our coffers. Now, only one task remained.

“The tyranny of the Agricultural Knights has reached its breaking point! The moment our finances were restored, they began haggling over every copper, claiming the knights need their salaries!”

“We beg of you! Grant us the authority to issue our own bonds! Or at the very least, re-adjust the commission rates of that Federal Trade Company!”

“Don’t you dare dream of touching our commission percentages!”

“Do you have any idea how much you’re skimming off the top while you sail back and forth across the Atlantic? If you won’t budge on that, then the Federal Government needs to reduce its share of the harvest!”

“The Congress has absolutely no intention of reducing its current portion. Request denied.”

“How could you! We won’t stand for this kind of despotism!”

I needed to act as a traffic controller.

These goddamn idiots. Because the country was still running like a startup, every single arbitration task eventually flew straight into my lap. With the recent crisis, the long-simmering conflicts and confusion between various agencies had finally boiled over all at once.

The friction regarding the flow of capital was particularly severe. Since the Federal Trade Company handled all matters of commerce, it survived by taking a cut from every export and import involving the Covenant. However, the Agricultural Knights protested that the Company was taking far too much from the wheat and barley profits. Naturally, the Continental Congress and other agencies picked their own fights with the Trade Company as well.

As I’d noted before, none of these organizations were subordinate to one another; they had all been born independently. Consequently, there was no superior body to mediate their disputes, and the burden shifted toward their only common nucleus.

Me.

It was as difficult as trying to stop a group of village elders from brawling over a shared savings pool. Because their vested interests were on the line, neither side was willing to retreat an inch.

“O Nameless One! Pray, give those arrogant knights a stern piece of your mind!”

“We implore you! Please lower the Trade Company’s commissions, even if only by a fraction!”

“Maintaining federal projects requires a staggering budget. The claims by the Knights and the Company to reduce our revenue are preposterous!”

Working a week with only two hours of sleep a night was not something a human should endure, even for someone like me whose vitality reset at midnight. The time had come to put an end to this startup-style management that had dragged on for thirty years.

A system should do the work while people merely assist it, but in a small, freshly minted startup, the people have to build the system while doing the work, making everything three or four times as exhausting. That had been the story of how we—or rather, I—had established this community and raised this nation. We’d spent our years solving immediate problems and then cleaning up the mess that followed.

It was time to quit this nonsense—

Wait.

I felt a sudden sense of déjà vu. I’d experienced something similar before. Back when everyone in Virginia was screaming at each other about who was a heretic and who wasn’t. I was certain I had handed over the reins of governance back then. How did I end up back in this position?

***

Eighteen years ago, in the year 1600.

When Kim Lee-sang returned after rescuing the Lenape people from a hurricane, a specific incident had rocked Virginia.

“Those people are practically unbelievers! Infidels!”

“They ignored the Apostles’ orders and went off searching for Lord Nemo, doing nothing but causing a riot!”

“We must punish them and restore the authority of the Holy Church!”

Oitotan and several other followers, consumed by worry for Kim Lee-sang’s safety, had raided the armory and charged northward in a chaotic frenzy, despite being told to stand down by the Apostles. As everyone knew, the result was a fool’s errand. While Kim Lee-sang had indeed suffered greatly, he was already on his way back safely.

In the end, they faced heavy criticism for disturbing the peace of the community, and voices grew loud demanding they be punished for heresy due to their disobedience. At that crossroads, Kim Lee-sang had taken a step back. He refused to personally punish Oitotan and his group, instead leaving the judgment to the local council.

On that day, he swore that no one living in this world would ever be condemned as a heretic by his hand. Furthermore, he declared that this community was not something chosen and established by God, but rather a creation of an Angel who had followed God’s call and acted upon his own judgment. With that, he laid the foundation for the separation of church and state.

While those effects were monumentally significant in the Covenant’s history, the event had a more immediate, practical impact. By entrusting Oitotan’s fate to the council, the actual right to govern the land was naturally handed over to a representative body composed of humans.

While some intellectuals praised the Angel, claiming the great tradition of the Republic had been resurrected in this land, the most important outcome for Lee-sang was the increase in his free time. In fact, his weekly gaming hours had seen a significant and meaningful spike because of it.

From then on, Lee-sang refrained from intervening in political affairs unless the community faced a major disaster. He chose an indirect approach, offering subtle advice or minor interventions only at critical moments. The Knights, the Trade Company, and various other agencies, now enjoying greater autonomy, balanced their respective domains and roles under the council’s rule. As countless agreements and precedents piled up, Virginia entered a peaceful era of prosperity.

Kim Lee-sang had spent over a decade savoring those leisurely years. But the situation had changed.

The Virginia community, once numbering around a hundred thousand, had grown into a massive state of millions, bolstered by numerous member nations. A territory vaster than the mainlands of France and Spain combined lay beneath their feet.

The Agricultural Knights now drove tractors, managing the most systematic and large-scale agricultural operation in human history to feed this exploding population. They had even played a pivotal role in liberating Florida with their war tractors. The Federal Trade Company had evolved from a small merchant house connecting Virginia and England into a global powerhouse, transporting grain, fruit, and precious metals on a scale that could shake all of Europe.

The government had changed as well. The original Virginia Council was now merely a regional government overseeing one of the many member states. The actual government ruling the entire Continental Covenant was now the Continental Congress.

It hadn’t taken long for the agreements and precedents established in the tiny, early Virginia community to become useless and meaningless.

“This vessel belongs to the Navy! It has always been so, and it shall remain so!”

“What? How can you say that? It was requisitioned for coastal defense occasionally, but it’s been used for trade ten times as often! We were merely lending it to you!”

“Nonsense! It was the other way around! We lent the ship to you, but its true ownership lies with the Navy!”

Disputes over assets that had previously been settled with a vague shrug suddenly burst into flames.

“By the way, do these clerks actually belong to the Trade Company? Distributing the profits from our agricultural sales should technically fall under the jurisdiction of the Knights, shouldn’t it?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“We’re the ones paying their salaries, aren’t we?”

“No, wasn’t that just a handling fee you were paying us for our services?”

Issues regarding loosely defined boundaries and jurisdictional authority began to surface as well. As the old agreements crumbled, disputes—both large and small—erupted as if they were a natural law. The series of events triggered by Guy Fawkes’s terror had merely acted as the fuse. With the authority of the old precedents shattered, people instinctively moved to find a new authority, a new mediator.

Kim Lee-sang wondered what the Continental Congress was doing in the middle of all this. Of course, the Congress was busy.

“Building a road? Why bother? We can just walk.”

“If we want wagons to pass, we have no choice.”

“Why not just use boats? I don’t see why we need wagons at all.”

“…”

However, it was not in a position to function properly. While the Virginia Council at least had the fence of being a consultative body for people belonging to a single community, the Continental Congress was entirely different in nature.

Florida and the Wabanaki Confederacy were as distant from one another as Portugal and Norway. To them, each other was just as foreign as a European. Furthermore, each member state was itself a federation of various tribes with very short histories, making them far from a singular, unified community. Since each had sent its own representatives, reaching a consensus was an uphill battle.

Some still didn’t understand how the gift trade functioned. Others sat in their seats without truly grasping what a parliament was supposed to be. In such a situation, they lacked the margin to provide authority and trust to other institutions. In the end, the only authority the warring public agencies could rely on was…

“O Nameless One!!”

“We implore you!”

“Put an end to this chaos!”

“Stop their tyranny!”

…singular.

There was a reason a thirty-year-old nation was creaking like a fresh startup again. After much contemplation, Kim Lee-sang finally recognized the truth: it was the resurrection of a problem he had already solved once.

And if that were the case, the conclusion would likely be the same.

***

Thomas Hewitt, a newly elected member of the Continental Congress, hurried from his home toward the farm, his mind racing. He adjusted his coat and took a moment to steady his breathing before raising his hand to knock—

Creak.

“You’re here,” a voice said.

“Lord Nemo.”

As always, he was the first to greet Hewitt. He was dressed in sturdy blue overalls over a checkered shirt, finished with black boots—his work attire. Seeing Hewitt arrive in a frantic state, Nemo merely offered a casual, slight smile before closing the door and heading toward a nearby vineyard greenhouse. He spent a moment inspecting the ripening fruit before turning back to Hewitt.

“Did you come because of that?” Nemo asked.

His gaze settled on the letter Hewitt was clutching—the very letter Nemo himself had written and sent to him.

“Yes,” Hewitt replied, nodding nervously. “How could you make such a monumental decision alone? I mean, I have no right to question you, but this is…”

“It is merely a reflection of the thoughts I’ve been harboring for some time.”

Compared to Hewitt’s anxious and bewildered demeanor, Nemo’s tone and conduct were incredibly calm. Hewitt felt a momentary flash of shock at that inhuman composure, only to regain his senses when he realized that the man had been exactly like this for the last thirty years. Nemo’s bottomless calm and coldness provided him with a strange sense of stability—the assurance that the man must have a deep, underlying plan, and therefore, they could overcome even this sudden and shocking situation.

Hewitt took a deep breath to settle his heart. “This decision… it might distance the Covenant from you, Lord Nemo.”

“It almost certainly will.”

“Then why?”

Nemo paused, a small smile playing on his lips. He waited until the urgency in Hewitt’s heart had faded before speaking. “Eventually, shouldn’t it be this way?”

“…”

“I should not be the one making everyday decisions. People try too hard to read the will of the One who stands behind me in every word I utter. That is idolatry.”

Hewitt’s breath caught in his throat.

“People must know that I am not the One who is Light and Truth, and that my words are my own, not His. If they do not realize this, it is idolatry.”

“…”

“But I suppose that will be difficult to achieve,” Nemo added, scattering fertilizer as he spoke. “Hewitt, I want people to be free. I don’t want them trapped by the words of idols telling them what to do and what not to do. I want them to move solely according to the light that shines within their own consciences.”

Hewitt could only stand there in a daze. Nemo finished his light agricultural duties for the day and stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked down at Hewitt with a face that was as young and serene as it had been on the day they first met.

“Is that enough of an answer for you?”

Hewitt nodded, suppressing a surge of emotion that threatened to burst from his chest. A few days later, he stood before the Continental Congress, clutching that divine missive, and shouted to the assembly:

“The Nameless One has declared that he will now transfer his responsibilities and authority regarding public affairs to this Congress! Matters concerning the jurisdiction of the Knights and the Trade Company, as well as budget disputes, shall henceforth be mediated and executed by this body!”

A roar of murmurs erupted. Some representatives, upon hearing Nemo’s name, began to sing songs intended to summon spirits as a sign of respect. They were not Christians. In fact, more than two-thirds of the Continental Congress members were non-believers. The vast majority of the Covenant’s population was not Christian, and naturally, the representatives they elected held fast to their traditional faiths. Kim Lee-sang himself had forbidden their persecution or forced conversion, and the Covenant championed freedom of religion.

“The Nameless One wishes for us to know the joy of handling our own affairs! He desires the people of the Covenant to be governed under a government they themselves established, and to enjoy their freedom beneath it!”

Yes. He wanted the people of the Covenant to be that free. To follow their own beliefs, regardless of the faith they chose. To move according to the light within them, no matter the direction they took. To follow their own consciences. To be free.

That was his will.

The Continental Congress was thus entrusted with all authority by the Angel—or the Spirit—who had established the Covenant. Now, under their rule, the Knights, the Navy, the Trade Company, and every other public institution would mediate their conflicts and cooperate together. Under the free rule of those who followed their consciences, the chaos would gradually subside.

The Continental Covenant had survived yet another crisis, all thanks to his labor and his noble will.

***

“Hah.”

The moment the news reached me, a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped my lips. My hands trembled quietly. My eyes grew hot.

Finally.

Freedom.

I had finally obtained the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted. Now, for the most part, they would handle their own business. From now on, I could just sit back and offer the occasional “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it” like some backseat driver.

I could be away for long periods without any problems. I’d gone camping for a week as a trial run, and the world hadn’t ended. This was it.

If things stayed like this, I could eventually go.

To East Asia.

I’d put together an expedition for white rice.