Infinite Anime [161-163] (Patreon)

Chapter 161: Gusion’s Grand Lecture

“Is that really the case?”

The officers present discussed among themselves, frowning. Although they’d visited many countries, it was always as pirates—they never cared about a nation’s economic state or national strength.

In the end, it was King who, after some thought, gave his answer. “It does seem that way. Countries with slavery often aren’t developed, but what does that have to do with operating costs?”

Everyone else fell silent, turning to Gusion and waiting for his answer.

“To explain this is a bit complicated, so I’ll just keep it simple,” Gusion began. In truth, he didn’t know much about deep economic theory, only bits and pieces from history books. He really wished he had the mind of someone like Aizen, and a tongue skilled at persuasion.

With everyone’s attention on him, Gusion continued: “First of all, slave systems lack economic incentives. Slaves have little motivation to work, usually only laboring under force, which is very inefficient. You should’ve noticed this already by comparing the productivity of old and new factories. So, let’s analyze the costs of both.”

“Do we even need to analyze it?” Maria interrupted. “You obviously pay higher wages than the old factories. Doesn’t that make your costs higher?”

Gusion frowned slightly but patiently explained, “If you looked closely at the report, you’d see the basic wages at the new factory aren’t much higher. We’re still using the local currency. The old factory paid 5 silver a month, and the new one pays 7.”

Maria missed the core issue and just focused on the numbers. “Isn’t that still a higher cost?”

Gusion felt a bit hopeless regarding people’s intelligence here—Maria was supposed to be one of the smarter ones among the Beast Pirates, yet she compared only the amounts and missed the important part.

He could only patiently explain to a group of illiterates, “Cost analysis needs to go step by step. Aren’t you curious why just a slightly higher wage makes my workers so satisfied and motivated?”

This time, the officers began to think, realizing something was off.

Right, they remembered that 5 silver was just enough for one adult to eat for a month. For a family of three, it definitely wasn’t enough—they’d be half-starved.

If 5 silver barely suffices, then 7 silver shouldn’t make a big difference. So why are workers at Gusion’s factory so happy and well-fed?

“It’s because grain prices changed, right? Mr. Gusion also intervened in the market recently?” King, who’d always paid attention to Gusion’s reforms in Wano, was first to realize. “So the currency has effectively appreciated. The old factory’s wage is essentially higher now, too.”

“There’s such a thing!?” Kaido’s voice rose. “Does that mean I lost out?”

Gusion thought, “Even capitalists would shed tears at this.” He could understand Kaido’s way of thinking—Kaido probably only realized he’d paid more in wages.

But the reality was, Kaido never understood that his real costs were always the same. When he gave food to Orochi or Yamato, he never charged them. The wages he paid weren’t in the world currency Beli, but in Wano’s local money. Only the imported grain was the real asset cost, and that part he’d never charged for.

“Governor-General, I understand your concern, but please hear me out,” Gusion reassured him.

Kaido eyed Gusion suspiciously, but since production was up, he decided to listen.

“Back to costs—if I hadn’t adjusted grain prices, both old and new factory workers would be starving, even with higher wages as Maria said. So, where are the savings?” Gusion guided them, but none of the officers could answer. King was wracking his brain.

Gusion continued, “Let me ask another way: Don’t you think it’s cheap to get a worker for the old factory and have him work?”

“Of course!” Maria replied.

“Miss Maria, you’re familiar with factory hiring. From recruitment to when a worker is competent, what must we do?” Gusion asked.

Maria frowned, unsure where this was going, but recalled, “For the weapon factories, we have veteran craftsmen train new ones for three months until they’re familiar with operations, then let them work.”

Gusion clapped. “Exactly.”

The officers looked at each other, seeing no issue.

But Gusion continued, “Miss Maria, you don’t think worker training isn’t a cost, do you?”

Maria froze, suddenly realizing the point—these were skilled jobs, not simple mining. Craftsmen had to be trained, which took time. During training, veteran craftsmen couldn’t work; equipment was idle; and trainees had to be fed and paid, or they’d starve before qualifying—what a loss that’d be.

So, training, personnel costs, equipment downtime, early wages—all of it was cost!

Education itself is the biggest cost.

Worse, as Gusion’s analysis pointed out, their workers weren’t durable—after months of training, many would die from hunger or illness within a few years. Doing a simple calculation, with a five-year lifespan, the old factory’s worker cost was several times higher than that of free workers! Even extending to ten years, free workers were still much cheaper.

As everyone was stunned by this, Gusion added, “And didn’t the old factories need many overseers to keep workers in line? Some are pirates, some locals; our own people aren’t paid, but isn’t that using up our fighting force? And the local overseers—don’t we pay them?”

Gusion’s words hit hard. Maria’s mouth hung open—he was right, overseer costs were high.

Most overseers were Beast Pirates. Even if not fighting, they were still part of their strength—real cost. Local overseers’ wages were substantial.

“How do you ensure workers do their jobs properly without overseers?” Maria asked.

“There’s something scarier than whips in reality—reality itself,” Gusion said. “To eat, to provide for their families, to get ahead, to buy a big house, to live better—life pushes everyone forward. Once basic needs are met, ambition drives people.”

He pointed at the report’s numbers. “That’s proof. I told them if new factory performance is poor, the scheme ends—they’d go back to scavenging. So they work hard.”

“But isn’t this just short-term pressure? Won’t they slack off in the long run?” King asked.

“Some will, inevitably, but the wage system ensures most will work hard,” Gusion said, flipping the report. “You probably haven’t looked closely, so let me explain the differences between old and new factory pay systems.”

The officers looked sheepish—they really hadn’t looked, just glanced at the numbers.

Some were even illiterate, only recognizing their own wanted posters.

“Isn’t it 7 silver?” Maria asked, embarrassed.

“Not exactly,” Gusion replied. “That’s just the average. In reality, base pay at the new factory is only 2 silver. The rest depends on performance. The better you do, the more you earn. On average it’s about 7 silver, but some get less, and the best get 8 or even 10 silver.”

He went to the blackboard and drew. “This idea came from my labor in Udon Prison—pay-for-performance is a great motivator. The Governor’s idea was smart.”

Kaido nodded. “Yes, that’s a good rule.”

“And I added another rule: craftsmen who underperform for three months get dismissed; those who exceed the average for a year get promoted—their base wage and status rise. They can reach the top, become technical advisors, and avoid hard labor, with higher pay and social standing.”

Gusion drew the factory’s personnel structure. “Wouldn’t you want to climb up in this system? And to do so, what would you do?”

The officers finally understood—this was like their pirate crew structure. Everyone strives to move up; even without war, no one slacks off.

“Mr. Gusion, this is simple yet brilliant. Why didn’t I think of this before?” King looked at Gusion with newfound respect. He and Maria had set up the factories, but now he saw the old model was garbage.

“Mr. King, you flatter me. I haven’t even finished on the advantages of free workers,” Gusion said. “Since everyone cares about costs, let’s analyze those further.”

He drew a circle on the board and wrote “Wano” inside. “Have you thought about what exactly we pay our craftsmen with? What is our real cost?”

Chapter 162: Even Pirates Would Cry

“Isn’t it Wano’s silver coins?” Queen asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Silver coins? They’re precious metal, but not a universal currency at sea—they only circulate within Wano and aren’t valuable to us,” Gusion explained. “As far as I know, we haven’t looted Wano’s silver coins, though we’ve taken plenty of gold.”

“It’s grain!” King, who’d been pondering, spoke up.

Gusion nodded approvingly. “Exactly. The only real asset we provide to Wano is grain, which the Beast Pirates acquire through trade. In other words, Beli is like this country’s foreign exchange—we use it to import grain, which is then sold to the public for local currency.”

“In short, we directly provide grain; wages are essentially grain.”

He wrote “foreign exchange,” “grain,” “local currency,” “wages,” and drew arrows between them on the board, making the officers dizzy.

The smarter ones—King and Maria—barely kept up. Kaido just kept a poker face, pretending to understand.

“A nation’s foreign reserves are important. We’re not just exporting; the factories’ products are exported, bringing in more foreign exchange. This is why the Beast Pirates have grown stronger.”

He circled “cost” on the board. “Are our costs really that high? Mr. King, what’s the overseas price for grain?”

King, who handled procurement, quickly recalled, “About 300 Beli per kilo of rice.”

Gusion nodded. “At current Wano prices, 7 silver buys 30 kilos of rice, so one worker’s wage costs 9,000 Beli a month.”

“That’s still pretty high,” Jack said, doing a quick calculation.

“Is it? Mr. Jack, you don’t know our profits,” Gusion chuckled. “For example, a basic worker in the weapons factory produces items worth about 900,000 Beli per month in exports—a 100x difference!”

“So much!?” Kaido exclaimed; he’d never realized the profits were so high.

Gusion nodded. “So our wage costs are a drop in the bucket compared to profits. We just need to keep workers happy and motivated, and we’ll always make money.”

“And the people of Wano have no concept of this profit ratio. Even if they knew, Beli is meaningless to them—they only see what’s in front of them, like food and daily goods. Beli is just paper if they never leave the country.”

Kaido finally understood, getting excited. “So, we should run all factories like the new model—keep turning foreign exchange into grain, then into weapons, then into my money—multiplying it a hundredfold?”

“More or less. The key is, we don’t need to treat workers like slaves. If they live well, we make more money, for longer, at lower cost.”

Gusion thought, “For Kaido to understand this much is already impressive,” so he didn’t complicate things further.

“Although most of what you said makes sense, are the costs really that much lower? Don’t new factory workers still need training?” King asked, frowning.

The question made the others realize—slaves need training, but don’t workers too? Isn’t that still a cost, and with higher wages?

“Mr. King, you’re missing something,” Gusion replied. “I explained the profit ratio so you’d see that, compared to our gains, wages are insignificant—even if we paid ten times more, we’d still be making huge profits. The real cost is time—the time of skilled workers, and equipment usage.”

King started to get it. “Because profits are a hundredfold, wasted training time is magnified a hundred times?”

He was still confused. “But don’t we still have to train workers for free?”

Unexpectedly, Gusion shook his head. “Who says I have to train them for free?”

Seeing everyone’s confusion, Gusion explained, “The beauty of free workers is that they come by choice, not force—so education costs should be theirs. We just build a technical school and charge for training.”

The officers were stunned. Queen even blurted, “You want people to pay to learn how to work for us!?”

He thought, “Who’s the real brutal pirate here? Weren’t you a traveler before? How did you come up with such a cruel idea?”

So, to work in the factory, they have to pay for their own training, then compete for the job?

“Why not? I believe many will pay, especially those already working—they’ll pay for their children to study, knowing it’s a good future,” Gusion said. In truth, there were flaws in his logic, but the simple-minded pirates wouldn’t notice.

His plan used classic capitalist methods—harsh, but effective at motivating people.

Comparing worker and slave training: workers pay their own way, slaves wait for the master to pay. You can’t always tell if a slave is learning, but workers self-motivate; all bosses need to do is pay low wages. And with workers, you can fire them cheaply if they aren’t good enough, unlike slaves.

So, worker costs are far lower than slaves—or rather, “worker” is just a nicer word for “slave of capital.”

Of course, Gusion couldn’t think of a better way. He figured giving people enough to eat, and work in decent conditions, was already progress.

As for the flaws—Wano was totally under Kaido’s control, so no matter the training method, Kaido still paid. Schools needed land, teachers, equipment—all costs. But compared to in-factory training, a technical school was a bit cheaper, and workers’ tuition was negligible in the big picture.

Gusion presented it this way mainly to make Kaido and the others feel like they were winning, since people are happy when others pay their own way.

In fact, Gusion was laying the groundwork for promoting educational reform in Wano.

If the factories ran smoothly, Kaido would get the idea that opening schools and charging tuition was profitable.

“Mr. Gusion, sometimes I really wonder if you’re a traveler or a demon slayer—how do you know so much about governance?” King was amazed.

“Uh… I’ve just seen a lot of countries. The East Blue is peaceful; lots of countries there are well run. I learned by watching,” Gusion answered awkwardly, thinking, “Good thing this isn’t the real world—otherwise, I’d be acting out of character.”

“Hahaha, either way, higher factory profits are good. Let’s get the new ones going!” Kaido roared. He didn’t care for the details; he just knew he was about to make a fortune and Gusion was doing well.

“What about the old factories?” Maria asked hesitantly.

“Change them all—do it Gusion’s way!” Kaido decided.

“Governor, this can’t be rushed,” Gusion advised. “Can you let me handle it? Sudden changes could cause unrest and hurt production.”

Kaido was in a good mood and agreed. “Fine, it’s yours.”

Gusion relaxed. His real plan was to reshuffle old factory staff, mixing veterans with new hires—this way, new factories could run smoothly. Output might drop at first, but would recover in a year or two.

This would also give veteran craftsmen the status they deserved—based on their skills, they’d start at higher levels, which would win them over.

Next, all he had to do was hire old masters as teachers, and gradually expand the factories with new Wano workers.

“Governor, my visit today isn’t just to explain the changes to factory management,” Gusion said, getting to his main point. “I want to discuss the artificial Devil Fruit factories.”

“Is there a problem?” Kaido asked, now trusting Gusion enough to discuss even his core operations.

“My research shows the artificial Devil Fruit factories don’t yield much profit. I want to discuss whether we should cut back or even stop this line of business,” Gusion said, revealing his true goal.

Chapter 163: Gusion: “Kaido, What Is Your Dream?”

“What did you say!?” Kaido’s good mood vanished at the suggestion of shutting down his Devil Fruit factories.

“Governor, don’t get upset. Please let me show you the numbers,” Gusion said as he erased the board and drew a table. “I said our factories have a 100x profit margin—but not the Devil Fruit factories.”

The officers looked at the board like attentive students.

The table showed: with a 9,000 Beli monthly wage, the weapons factory had a 93x profit margin, the seastone factory 119x, but the artificial Devil Fruit factory… just 2x.

Yes, 2x is technically high, but compared to the other lines, it stood out.

“Why is that?” Kaido frowned, always thinking the Devil Fruits were the most profitable.

Gusion explained, “There are many reasons. We pay low wages, and artificial Devil Fruits sell for high prices, but their raw materials and equipment are extremely expensive. Labor costs are negligible; the real cost is in materials and machinery.”

He showed a list of the Devil Fruit factory’s construction and equipment costs, plus the cost per fruit. Compared to these, labor was nothing.

“It’s really that expensive?” Kaido looked around. The officers shared his confusion.

But Kaido soon realized: it wasn’t that the artificial Devil Fruits were so costly, but that he’d never calculated the profit margins of his other businesses—they were just so much higher.

“This is an ideal scenario. In reality, costs could be even higher. According to last year’s financials from Mr. King, the artificial Devil Fruit line actually brought in the least revenue,” Gusion said.

“That’s because we eat most of the artificial Devil Fruits ourselves, not sell them. So you can’t just look at the numbers,” Maria pointed out.

“True. But I calculated the profit margin as if we sold all of them at market price, including what we consumed,” Gusion said. “Despite growing wealth, our expansion is slow because too much is tied up in artificial Devil Fruits.”

“Gusion, maybe you don’t know, but my goal in making money is to build the strongest Devil Fruit army,” Kaido said, still calm.

“We can discuss the army’s effectiveness in a moment. But let’s get back to costs,” Gusion said. “Why are they so high? It’s because this industry is long and complex, and we don’t control every part—Doflamingo supplies some materials, Caesar provides tech, and we buy all the core equipment from them. The tech blockade means most profit goes to them.”

This was a rhetorical trap, but Kaido, thinking about the other factories’ high margins, suddenly realized most of the profit from artificial Devil Fruits went to Doflamingo.

After all, the high-tech items were all imported—they couldn’t make any of it themselves.

“Mr. Gusion, those two are our partners. We can’t expect them to make nothing. Otherwise, it wouldn’t last,” King said. “And as Kaido-san just said, the Devil Fruit line isn’t just business—it’s military spending.”

“Military spending? Is it really effective?” Gusion smiled, making King pause.

“With the artificial Devil Fruits, we’ve built an army of over a thousand Gifters. Isn’t that military spending?” King asked.

Gusion looked speechless. He pointed outside. “Mr. King, do you think a thousand Gifters could beat you?”

He turned to Kaido. “Governor, why not try using your Conqueror’s Haki outside and see how many Gifters can stay standing?”

The room went silent. King compared their fighting power and realized he could probably kill all the Gifters in under a minute. Kaido also realized that his Haki would probably drop all but ten of them.

The other officers’ faces changed as they realized the Gifters were weak.

“So after more than ten years in Wano, spending astronomical sums to build a Devil Fruit army, is it really effective?” Gusion pressed.

Kaido’s face darkened. He suddenly realized he’d wasted years—he hadn’t become an Emperor because of the Gifters, but through his own strength and his loyal officers.

“Governor, whose idea was it to build this Devil Fruit army?” Gusion asked.

Bang—the wall behind Kaido shattered as his Conqueror’s Haki flared. He was furious.

“Doflamingo…” he growled. “That bastard tricked me!”

Gusion thought, “Poor King of Newsreading, but yes, Doflamingo should take the blame—he’s the only one smart enough in that process.”

“I don’t know the details, but the results speak for themselves. Artificial Devil Fruits are unreliable, maybe giving a minor boost, but nothing like real ones. Worse, they prevent swimming and have major side effects, like robbing people of their expressions. I suspect they even affect the brain, ruining a person’s potential.”

He continued, “In the worst case, our Gifters might have been stronger without eating artificial Fruits—they could at least swim in naval battles.”

Kaido’s face grew even darker. The blow was heavy—he’d spent over a decade on this, thinking it would help him build a world-crushing army.

But Gusion’s harsh facts made it clear: the army was useless. Even after another century, he’d never overthrow the World Government.

“Shut down all artificial Devil Fruit factories!” Kaido roared. He finally realized he was the only one actually consuming artificial Devil Fruits—Doflamingo never gave any to his own men, meaning he knew about the side effects.

So, for over ten years, the money went to Doflamingo, and all Kaido got was a useless army.

“Looks like you’ve figured it out, Governor. The Devil Fruit factories are a waste—no military value, just wasted time and money,” Gusion said.

“Gusion has a point, but if we stop the Devil Fruit factories, what do we do instead?” King asked. He was lost, too—he’d believed in this project for years.

If the Devil Fruit army was useless, how could they ever overthrow the Celestial Dragons?

“I don’t know,” Gusion answered simply. “Governor only asked me to help manage Wano and make money. From a business standpoint, just switch to weapons and seastone factories.”

“Gusion, tell me—how can we truly make the Beast Pirates stronger?” Kaido asked, staring.

Gusion was surprised—he hadn’t expected to become the Beast Pirates’ strategist so quickly.

But he straightened up and looked at Kaido. “Kaido, what is your dream?”

Depending on Kaido’s answer, he’d offer different advice.

Kaido noticed Gusion’s change of tone. He pondered, then spoke in his deep voice: “I want to drag those so-called nobles and rulers addicted to comfort onto the battlefield, to let war decide everyone’s worth again...”

He paused. “Simply put, I want to overthrow the Celestial Dragons and create a fairer world where only ability determines value.”

Some officers were shocked—most didn’t know Kaido’s ultimate dream. His words made it clear: he wanted to challenge the world’s absolute authorities—the Celestial Dragons.

“So, Kaido, do you want to overthrow the Celestial Dragons and become king of the world?” Gusion asked.

Kaido shook his head. “What’s the point of being world king? I just hate the Celestial Dragons. I don’t care about ruling the world. If I must be king, I only want to be Pirate King.”

Gusion wasn’t surprised—Kaido was straightforward. He had no interest in ruling; he just wanted to fight the Celestial Dragons.