Sure enough, the Shepherd demanded that the king distribute relief funds so the commoners could survive the winter.
At the same time, she began monitoring the nobleman's work.
She also took off her Golden Fleece Garment and had the Fake Tailor begin the preliminary work on the wedding dress.
At first, the nobleman thought things would be simple. He even felt that even if he did nothing, a week would pass quickly enough.
Yet he regretted it on the very first night.
"Why is this damned shack leaking drafts everywhere?" the nobleman grumbled as he looked around in disgust.
The places these lowborn people lived in were filthy, chaotic, and wretched.
Forget sleeping—he found even sitting anywhere disgustingly dirty.
Only then did he realize that the aristocratic clothes he usually wore were so poor at keeping him warm.
They looked luxurious, but there was nothing warm beneath that finery.
Thinking about it, though, he realized that he usually stayed either indoors or in a carriage.
And those places all had braziers or similar things to maintain the temperature.
Naturally, noble clothing did not need to provide warmth.
"Damn it, I haven't had my massage or grooming," the nobleman complained bitterly.
His daily life had always been exceptionally refined.
That refinement extended to every aspect of his life.
Normally, countless servants bustled around him.
Yet now, he could only stay alone in this filthy, chaotic shack.
Then the nobleman began to feel hungry.
"Someone, bring me—" He instinctively called for someone to bring him food, then stopped midway.
The nobleman gritted his teeth and stood up.
Though he bore blessings, they had little to do with survival or daily living.
If he went without food for too long, he would still starve.
For a moment, the nobleman had no idea what