Chapter 22
Star of Chaos (1)
“Hector seemed to have noticed something the moment he stepped into this room.”
He’s annoyingly sharp like that.
Anje shot a sideways glare at the duke’s broad back.
But in truth, the duke’s question was less about Hector and more because Anje had been poking his nose into matters that didn’t really concern him.
With a quiet sigh, Anje finally spoke.
“Well, actually, I had my eye on the same bag. Every time I dropped by the department store I made sure to look at it. Tough yet soft leather, beautifully stitched by a master craftsman—and best of all, it’s completely timeless…”
Anje trailed off and glanced at the duke to see if he believed any of it.
The duke merely listened, offering no comment.
“And, working as an information broker, it’s only natural I’d get a keen eye for things. These days even commoners carry a quality piece or two, but Hector’s was clearly a cut above.”
Anje’s eyes darted as he ran out of excuses.
“Well done,” the duke said.
“…Excuse me?”
Was the duke actually capable of a compliment?
Had Anje been scolded so much that he was starting to hear things?
“I said well done. I’ll give you a bonus.”
The same words came again as Anje absently scratched his ear.
“Didn’t you just say a moment ago that giving me extra pay was a waste?”
“Want me to take it back?”
The duke turned from the window to look at him.
Backlit, Anje couldn’t see the faintly teasing smile on the duke’s lips and flustered instead.
“No, of course not. I’d… be grateful. Yes, thank you. Ahem!”
His voice dwindled as he finished, and he cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment.
After all, with no clear plan for life after leaving the ducal household, money was vital.
What’s pride worth when every coin matters? Refusing would be pure luxury.
“Aaagh!”
Catching the embezzler was one thing, but Anje still had to complete every task to the letter.
Working late to rewrite reports, he let out a groan as he left the office.
Better to swing a sword than sit all day under a superior’s watchful eye.
He flopped onto his bed and shut his eyes.
Elliot’s tip came to mind: his hilltop mansion had gone in for repairs.
Once the renovations were complete, its prime location would drive the price far beyond what he’d paid. The thought made him feel as if he were floating on clouds.
Not that I’d ever sell it—it was Mother’s dream home.
Still, a rising value was nothing to complain about.
Add the commission and the bonus on top of that…
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
Taking on the duke’s request had been the right decision.
After wrapping up this job and pocketing the money, he planned to disappear for a while, then return when memories of him had faded and enjoy the mansion life his mother had wished for.
For that to happen, the duke and Hildegard absolutely had to marry.
“No obstacles. They’ll be happy…”
Just like in a fairy tale.
And the prince and princess lived happily ever after.
Grinning at the ceiling, Anje finally dragged himself up with a groan.
No matter how tired he was, he couldn’t sleep without washing.
As he turned his head, he spotted a neatly placed box on the once-empty table.
“There was nothing there this morning… what’s this?”
Maybe a maid had left something by mistake.
Frowning at the bother, Anje examined the box. A slip of paper fell out.
It bore the seal of Berkshire Department Store—a certificate of authenticity.
After a moment’s hesitation, Anje carefully undid the wrapping.
He pulled the yellow ribbon, peeled away the ornate paper, and lifted the sturdy lid.
His eyes went wide.
“This is…”
It was a craftsman’s bag identical to the one Hector had carried earlier.
Where Hector’s had been plain brown to avoid attention, this one was pale beige with delicate tooling along the edges.
“My goodness! Why…?”
A card nestled between the folds.
Keep working hard and don’t get clever. —Duke Seid
The card slipped from Anje’s fingers.
From the moment he saw the beautiful bag, he had guessed who sent it.
Who else would give him something so expensive, especially after today’s events?
Of course the duke had been the prime suspect.
The bonus was enough, and now this gift…
He had almost been touched by the duke’s thoughtfulness—
until he read the card and any warmth instantly cooled.
“What do you mean, don’t get clever? Or is he telling me to be clever?”
He’d gone out of his way, worked to the bone on a matter not even his own,
and the response was don’t get clever? Really?
Anje scowled at the card.
Just a simple thank you would have moved him.
No card at all would have been better.
But of course—the duke was a man with whom he had nothing in common.
Probably doesn’t even see a need to try.
Muttering under his breath, Anje flicked the card aside and carefully placed the bag in the wardrobe.
Marquis Schmidt Crow was in a foul mood from the start of the morning.
His trading company, which had posted profits even during the war, had recently suffered a major loss.
The moment he saw the numbers, he squeezed his eyes shut.
It was the worst figure in the history of his house.
As his foreign-sounding name suggested, the marquis’s family had once been wandering merchants, traveling the continent to sell their wares.
Only in his grandfather’s time had they settled in the Empire.
Young Schmidt Crow had done every job that earned a coin: odd labor, cleaning, chimney sweeping, back-breaking day work.
Remembering those days still made him shudder, though he had learned much—especially about money and people.
It was no exaggeration to say his views on both were forged in that period.
With the savings from those years, Schmidt Crow entered the money-lending business.
Back then, when the temples still dominated, lending money at interest was considered a sin.
I’ll gladly fall into hell if that’s the price, the arrogant young businessman would murmur, laughing off the priests’ sharp warnings.
But in the end it was the priests who fell first.
When the fifth imperial prince whom Crow supported became emperor, the clergy who had backed the crown prince lost their footing in the Empire.
Cut off from imperial favor and noble patrons alike, the grand temple in the heart of the capital sold its land and vanished.
The man who bought the entire temple was none other than Marquis Crow.
The triumph had been exquisite.
With the emperor’s backing he gained a marquisate, and his trading house flourished.
During the war it even surpassed the great Seid ducal company.
And yet—
no sooner had the war ended and the Duke of Seid returned than Crow’s profits began to fall.
The culprit was said to be the very Berkshire Department Store in which the duke had invested.
“Damn it.”
The marquis stopped walking and turned his head.
Through the vast glass ceiling the garden below bloomed with roses oblivious to the season, a striking contrast to the leafless branches shivering in the icy wind beyond the glass walls.
“Good morning, my lord!”
A cheerful voice rang out, deepening the lines between his brows.
The one who greeted him so blithely despite the marquis’s chill was the imperial astrologer, Davi.
A young man with loosely tied golden hair, Davi flashed a grin from his vivid green eyes.
Annoying brat.
Outside the palace, Crow most disliked Joseph; within it, he detested Davi above all.
Slender and wrapped in a lavish robe, Davi’s appearance made it hard to tell at a glance whether he was man or woman.
