Chapter 41
Kyle’s expression as he left the house was completely different from how he looked when facing his mother. It was as if his complexion had suddenly darkened.
His eyes were filled with worry, as though something bad had happened, and there was no strength at all in his steps.
Kyle, whose dream was to become a chef, had been working for three years as an assistant cook at a fairly well-known restaurant in the imperial capital called “Blue Forest Path.”
From his home on the outskirts of the city to the restaurant took about twenty minutes at a brisk pace. Along the way stood the house of a man named Bartang, infamous in the neighborhood as a loan shark.
Was it just his imagination that Kyle’s steps slowed noticeably as he passed by that place today?
Kyle was someone who normally wouldn’t even associate with loan sharks, calling them despicable scum who sucked the lifeblood out of commoners. There was clearly something going on.
“Phew…”
His sluggish pace quickened again only because he was running out of time before work. Pushing his tangled thoughts aside, Kyle hurried on.
“Hello there.”
But someone stopped him in his tracks—an unexpectedly beautiful woman. Wearing a neat uniform, she smiled at Kyle and held something out to him.
Without thinking, Kyle accepted it. It was a single sheet of paper, with large letters reading Calista Bank.
“A bank?”
“Oh, you can read?”
The woman’s eyes sparkled with delight. Thanks to his father, who had once worked for a merchant guild while he was alive, Kyle had learned to read a little.
“Yes, a little.”
Judging by the flyer, it seemed a new bank had opened in the imperial capital. Curious about the unfamiliar name, Kyle looked at the woman as she began her explanation.
Then—
“A credit loan?”
Kyle’s eyes widened at her words. It was surprising enough that even depositing just one cooper would earn interest, but what he needed most right now was money.
“Yes, sir. Of course, this isn’t something available to just anyone. Since we lend without collateral, this product is only offered to those with reliable credit.”
“W-Would someone like me qualify?”
“Well, that isn’t for me to decide. If you’d like a more accurate consultation, why not visit the bank in person?”
“Can I go today?”
“Of course. Our business hours are from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.”
The woman’s radiant smile looked almost angelic to Kyle.
He’d need to learn more, of course, but if the flyer was accurate, the interest rate was incomparably lower than that of loan sharks.
A bank that would lend money to a poor commoner—neither merchant nor noble—and without collateral at that.
As Kyle ran toward the restaurant, the gloom on his face had completely vanished.
It felt as though heaven itself was helping him. Apparently, life wasn’t determined to kill him just yet.
“I’m heading out!”
Taking advantage of a brief lull after the lunch rush, Kyle asked for permission to step out. He had to be back within an hour to prepare for the dinner service, so he didn’t have much time.
Following the map printed on the flyer, Kyle hurried off with a heart full of hope.
“How may I help you?”
Calista Bank was located in the busiest part of the imperial capital. Passing through spotless glass doors, Kyle immediately sensed that the atmosphere here was different from other banks.
If traditional banks felt solemn and rigid, this place felt remarkably comfortable.
As a newly opened bank, everything was impeccably clean. The interior décor was elegant yet classical, and large and small green potted plants placed throughout added a refreshing touch.
Most of all, what pleased Kyle the most was the staff’s attitude toward him.
He’d worried about being turned away at the door, but instead, they greeted him with warm smiles and treated him with great friendliness.
There were quite a few people inside for an opening day. Judging by their clothing, most were commoners like himself—probably people who needed money, just as he did.
Hoping that good things would come to everyone, Kyle finally explained his purpose.
“I’m here to apply for a credit loan.”
“Have you already heard a detailed explanation about our credit loans?”
“No, just a little.”
“Then may I explain it again for you?”
“Yes!”
Kyle nodded eagerly. That was exactly what he wanted.
He was genuinely impressed by the employee’s attitude—asking for permission rather than acting as though it were a burden. Whoever owned this place, their staff training was clearly thorough.
“…Lastly, since there is no collateral, we cannot offer very large sums. Do you have any other questions?”
“No, that’s enough. So if I apply, you’ll give me a definite answer in two or three days?”
“Yes. It may take a little longer if necessary, but we’ll do our best to process it as quickly as possible. Would you like to apply now?”
Kyle, of course, agreed. The employee then asked him several questions.
Name and age, place of residence, family situation—and especially detailed questions about his workplace, including its size and location.
“Are you familiar with our lottery?”
Just as Kyle finished answering and was about to stand, the employee handed him a small slip of paper.
“A lottery?”
Now that he thought about it, he had seen something about it on the flyer. But since his attention had been fixed entirely on the credit loan, he hadn’t read it carefully.
The employee smiled brightly and explained kindly.
“To commemorate our opening, we’ve prepared a small event for our customers. Do you see the number written here?”
The slip of paper in Kyle’s hand had the number 81 written on it.
“Yes. What is this?”
“At Calista Bank, we give every visitor a lottery ticket with a unique number. That means 81 is your personal number.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Now listen carefully. This small piece of paper might bring you tremendous luck in one month.”
“Luck?”
He remembered seeing the word luck on the flyer as well—it had taken up a large portion right beneath the name Calista Bank.
“See this?”
What the employee showed him was the other half of the lottery ticket, torn from the one Kyle had received. It also bore the number 81.
“We split the tickets in half for the drawing. You happened to be the eighty-first customer to receive a ticket today.”
Saying that, the employee placed the slip into a glass box beside them, already filled with many others.
“In one month, our bank will randomly draw three winners—first through third place. As a token of our gratitude for using our bank, we’ll award prize money.”
“…Prize money? You mean actual money?”
“Yes. First prize is 25 gold, second is 10 gold, and third is 5 gold.”
“W-What?!”
Kyle cried out in disbelief.
Had he misheard?
Twenty-five gold!
As a third-year assistant cook, his monthly wage was eight silver. Twenty-five gold was an amount that would take over five years to earn—assuming he saved every single coin.
“Giving away that much money just through a drawing? Does that even make sense?”
His mouth hung open, unable to close.
And at that moment, Kyle prayed sincerely—please, let him at least win third place.
Even five gold was an enormous sum to him. With that money, he could pay off his debt to the apothecary and still buy his mother better medicine.
“W-When is the announcement?”
“One month from now, right here. I sincerely hope good fortune smiles upon you.”
Leaving behind the employee’s warm smile, Kyle stepped out of Calista Bank with a dazed expression.
Just before opening the door, a sudden shriek made him turn around. An older woman was repeatedly asking an employee, “Really? Really?”
She must have just heard the explanation about the lottery.
A lottery…
Would it really bring good fortune, as its name suggested?
Kyle carefully unfolded the lottery ticket fragment he’d been clutching tightly in his hand instead of pocketing. It might have been his imagination, but for a brief moment, the number 81 seemed to glow with a bright light.
* * *
“Master, Chief Gosset has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
The man, who had been staring out the window with a cigar between his lips, finally turned around as the door opened.
Early forties, perhaps?
With sharply protruding cheekbones and short brown hair slicked straight back, the man exuded an oppressive presence. Though small in stature, he looked resolute, and his narrow eyes carried a piercing sharpness.
He was Lord Sullivan, the owner of Sullivan Bank, the largest bank in the empire.
The man who entered—Gosset—seemed intimidated by Sullivan’s gaze, hunching his shoulders as he bowed.
“So, did it go well?”
Even with the cigar in his mouth, Sullivan’s pronunciation was clear. He walked slowly to the sofa and sat down as he spoke.
Gosset, answering like a guilty man, couldn’t even meet his eyes.
“They said… they need time to think…”
“So you just came back?”
A faint wrinkle appeared at the corner of Sullivan’s eyes. At the same time, cold sweat formed on Gosset’s forehead.
“They said next month…”
“That’s more than enough time to meet another bank.”
“Well, that’s true, but… as you know, there aren’t many banks capable of paying off the Chenowis family’s debt. And there are even fewer bold enough to interfere once Sullivan Bank has stepped in.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Gosset emphasized that the negotiation wasn’t over yet.
“As if I don’t know that.”
Sullivan shot Gosset a contemptuous glance.
He knew well enough.
The Chenowis family’s debt was so enormous that an ordinary person couldn’t even comprehend the amount.
As Gosset said, only a handful of banks in the empire could handle such a sum—and even then, it wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. One wrong move could topple the bank itself.
Moreover, once Sullivan Bank was involved, others would avoid the Chenowis family just to avoid offending him.
What irritated Sullivan was that this issue had dragged on for months unresolved. He despised procrastination.
“….”
Tapping the armrest with his fingernails, Sullivan stared intently at the floor as if deep in thought. Gosset stood silently beside him.
After some time—
Even after a considerable pause, Sullivan said nothing. Normally, Gosset would have waited silently, but today he had another important report.
“M-Master…”
As Sullivan’s eyes flashed with irritation, Gosset quickly held something out.
It was a single sheet of paper.
“…Calista Bank?”
“Yes, Master. It’s a newly opened bank that started operations today. They were handing these out on the streets.”
“Smooth.”
The texture of the paper felt surprisingly good. This quality would have cost quite a bit.
“They spent some money.”
When shops opened, they usually advertised with posters. Since many people couldn’t read and paper was expensive, handing out flyers like this was rare.
Sullivan acknowledged the novelty of the approach—but judged it to be far from an effective method.
