Chapter 37
The silverware clinked, producing a cold metallic sound.
Agnes, seated at the table, rolled her eyes around.
Across from her was Lionel.
It felt unfamiliar to have someone other than herself in the vast space.
Despite his long military life, Lionel’s every movement was elegant, befitting his noble birth.
Even the small gesture of cutting meat.
In contrast, Agnes was still clumsy with utensils, so without realizing it, she became intimidated and her movements grew cautious.
Wandering among the numerous utensils, Agnes finally picked up the fork placed farthest out.
Chewing the well-cooked lettuce, a sweet taste spread on her tongue along with the buttery aroma.
“You asked earlier why I proposed the investment to you.”
Agnes’s hand stopped.
The lettuce speared on the fork tip fell with a plop.
“…Yes.”
Lionel took a sip of wine and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“To be honest, I need your help.”
Agnes’s eyes, which had been gazing at Lionel as if entranced, widened.
She hadn’t expected the word “help” to come from his mouth.
“I want you, Agnes, to find information related to Rebelt from inside the Bardo trading company.”
This was the new usefulness Lionel had found in Agnes.
If the information she had already provided was insufficient, he could simply make her bring more definite evidence.
However, it was still too early to reveal his true intentions.
Lionel maintained his usual aloof expression, concealing his composure.
Lionel maintained his usual aloof expression, concealing his composure.
Agnes felt her breath catch for a moment.
Whenever the trading company was mentioned, a chill ran down her nape.
How desperately she had struggled to escape that place.
Yet now he was telling her to return.
Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
She didn’t want to disappoint Lionel, who for the first time saw value in her.
“Even if I agree, would Father accept me back at the trading company?”
“He will. I guarantee it.”
Lionel judged that Agnes had agreed.
“I will definitely pay the price for helping me, so tell me if there’s anything you want.”
“…A price.”
She would gladly help even if he just asked. Agnes thought for a moment and spoke of the greatest thing she desired.
“Then… just once a week, please have meals with me like this.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes. It’s a meal we have to eat anyway.”
Lionel’s brow furrowed slightly.
“I think eating together is better than eating alone.”
Lionel was silent for a moment.
He simply rolled the wine glass and gazed down at its red light.
“Very well.”
It was a curt reply, but at least it contained no sign of dislike.
Relieved by that, Agnes cut the meat and put it in her mouth.
It was warm.
It was the first time she had tasted meat this tender and fragrant.
But what felt even warmer was the fact that she was sitting face-to-face with someone eating a meal.
Perhaps because of that, the food tasted exceptionally sweet.
Agnes swallowed the warmth of excitement spreading softly like warm food and quietly smiled.
“…Delicious.”
As that smile entered his view, Lionel’s eyes trembled very faintly.
Agnes’s smile lingered in his mind much longer than expected—and far more than anticipated.
Even without anything particularly sweet, a sweet taste seemed to linger on the tip of his tongue.
***
“Damn it!”
Adrian trembled his legs in anxiety.
When he left the Valheim ducal house, he had thought finding an investor would be easy.
But reality was different.
“Where on earth did they all hear it from…!”
The financial instability of the Bardo trading company had become gossip on dinner tables across the empire.
Even rumors of secret ties to Rebelt were spreading.
At this rate, it was only a matter of time before the trading company faced existential crisis.
At that thought, Adrian’s fingertips trembled.
“Hand the trading company work back to that wretched Agnes?”
Adrian gnashed his teeth.
“If that girl realizes the company is in her name, it’ll be over.”
Muttering angrily, Adrian rubbed his forehead to wipe cold sweat and consoled himself.
“Calm down, whew.”
Adrian rubbed his damp hands on his thighs.
Honestly, what was he lacking compared to that Agnes?
He had only delegated work because it was bothersome; he was capable if he set his mind to it.
Adrian, incapable of self-objectivity, straightened his back.
The place where he sat was Jerome’s office.
Faint sunlight seeped through thick curtains, and the air was thick with cigar smoke.
He hadn’t forgotten Jerome’s warning to clean up his own mess.
But Adrian was confident he could provoke Jerome.
“If he learns the Valheim duke is investing, jealousy will surely make him want to invest too.”
Whatever Lionel did, Jerome always wanted to do it bigger.
Jerome’s inferiority complex and hostility toward Lionel were beyond imagination.
Though the emperor’s younger brother, Jerome’s name had always been followed by Lionel’s since childhood.
In studies, fame, appearance—Jerome had always stood behind Lionel in every way.
If the emperor wanted to break the Valheim family, Jerome wanted to stand above Lionel.
So when Lionel became a soldier, he did too.
When Lionel gained honor, Jerome had to seize it to be satisfied.
Bang.
The door opened, and Jerome entered amid cigarette smoke.
Unbuttoned military jacket, loosely hanging sword at his waist, pipe clenched in his mouth.
He looked more like a street thug than a noble.
“Well, well, a welcome face.”
“I, I came with a request.”
“A request?”
Jerome smirked and flicked his pipe.
Cigar ash scattered in the air.
Adrian explained what had happened at the ducal house, including Lionel ordering Agnes’s return to trading company work.
“My head hurts, so keep it short. What’s the reason you came to me?”
“If the penalty for this contract breach is resolved, we’ll return to profit. So if you, Colonel, invest—”
“Invest? Me?”
Jerome rubbed his smooth chin and narrowed his eyes.
“Fine. I’ll do it. More than the amount Lionel is offering.”
As expected.
At the predictable reaction, Adrian secretly clenched his fist under the table.
But Jerome’s next words froze him.
“On the condition that you entrust the trading company work to the duchess.”
“What?”
“That way, when we catch Rebelt later, we can entangle the Valheim family too.”
Jerome grinned.
Thick smoke leaked between his white teeth.
He thought:
It would be better not only to steal Lionel’s achievements but to collapse him entirely.
He didn’t know Lionel’s intentions in pushing his wife into the trading company, but he planned to use it against him.
If he framed all the suspicious transactions of the Bardo trading company—past and future—as Agnes’s doing.
Then he could swallow Rebelt and Valheim at once.
Jerome licked his dry lips with his bright red tongue.
“Agnes. She was quite pretty.”
The name rolling in his mouth left an unfamiliar heat.
Glancing at the financial statements Adrian presented, he got a sense.
It was Agnes who had built the current Bardo trading company.
He had thought the rumors exaggerated, but she had such an interesting talent.
“If her legs were only intact, I might have coveted her.”
Jerome tapped new cigar leaves into his pipe.
Huu—.
Thick smoke rose into the air.
Through it, Jerome’s gaze settled darkly.
At that moment, a sly smile spread across Adrian’s lips opposite him.
He had accurately read Jerome’s intentions.
It was a perfect opportunity to deal with Rebelt, Agnes, and Lionel all at once.
‘It was about time to cut off those Rebelt bastards anyway; this works out well.’
Since the terrorism, the Rebelt lot had been cautious, so he hadn’t profited as much as during the war.
Moreover, their attempts to blackmail him with the weapon smuggling were pathetic.
If he followed Jerome’s words well, he could dispose of the annoyances at once.
Finding new trading partners to replace Rebelt would be easy enough later.
Adrian rubbed his palms together, greed seeping through, as if he had never been wary of Agnes.
“Understood. I will do as you say, Colonel.”
“Ah, and there’s one more condition.”
Jerome puffed his pipe strongly, full of arrogance.
“I’d like to place one of my people in your trading company. That should be possible, right?”
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