Chapter 09
She hadn’t exactly been worried about running into Hiss while wandering alone, but she reassured herself that the man was nothing more than a cold-blooded businessman with his eyes on the land. He wasn’t likely to cause her any harm, so she tied her worries in a mental knot and set them aside.
Mojave, standing at the podium, was busy wetting his dry lips while showering praise on Karl’s company.
“Money seems to be quite satisfying, huh?”
Mrs. Rosalyn whispered to Mojave’s wife and young son sitting beside her. The Mojave family, neatly dressed instead of in dusty, worn-out clothes, was far more convincing than any words could be.
Some onlookers appeared unsettled, but most, like Hannah and Lucas, pitied Mojave for being swayed by money.
“A person who’s spent their whole life working the soil should stick to the soil. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Exactly. If a fire breaks out, the soil may become more fertile without pests, but paper just turns to ash and flies into the sky.”
“Well, I heard stocks don’t even burn in a fire.”
Their neighbor Theo, seated beside them, chimed in, squinting through his wrinkled eyes.
“Ha! Where’s such a thing? If it doesn’t burn, how would you even see it? Are you buying a house with something invisible?”
“My thoughts exactly. How could anyone understand it? And if it’s invisible, how do you know how much you’re getting for a plot of land? Ha ha ha.”
Laughter erupted up and down the rows. Mojave cleared his throat, trying to regain attention. Then it happened.
At the far back, employees of Karl’s company stood up, eyes fixed on someone. Mojave turned, puzzled. At the wide-open entrance beside the podium, a pair appeared: the young Countess of the village and Karl’s representative, Sir Hisshark Axen.
Hannah, spotting Sephine, jumped up from her seat.
The Countess—what on earth was she doing here?
Yet Hannah stayed silent, unable to approach, unsure how they had ended up at the hall together.
All eyes in the village turned toward them. Sephine lowered her gaze, clearly caught off guard.
Hisshark, however, remained calm. His perfectly composed face bore a faint, knowing smile directed at her.
What she couldn’t understand was the violet-colored bonnet in his hand—her hat. In full view of the gathering, he handed it to her. Blushing, Sephine accepted it.
Whispers spread among the crowd, as though they had stumbled upon a young couple secretly in love.
A carriage pulled up at the Tailored Duke’s estate. Hisshark disembarked and walked toward the mansion. As he neared the entrance, faint piano notes from the garden grew louder.
It was clear that the Duke’s only daughter, Veloa, was playing. Not a masterful performance, but not unpleasant either. The notes sounded like a baby crying across a battlefield—innocent, fragile, but piercing.
Even though he should have ignored it and moved on, his steps faltered. The familiar sound tugged at him, and a bitter smile crept across his face.
As he slowly advanced toward the entrance, the doors opened from inside. Duke Fuko Tailored welcomed his guest with open arms.
“Welcome!”
The Tailored Duke, wielding considerable political influence within Tulego, had recently inherited a massive fortune. Every venture he touched turned to success, and now he sought to bring the young, successful businessman into his fold.
“How have you been?”
Hisshark, for his part, maintained cordial ties with the Duke to secure his own strong position in the empire. He shook the Duke’s hand firmly, politely acknowledging the exaggerated warmth.
“I thought you were far away in that remote area. Hard to see your face here.”
After the servants quietly prepared the car and took the guest’s coat, the Duke seated himself on a sofa.
“So, where exactly? Greenwood? Greenhouse?”
“Greenwood.”
“Ah, Greenwood. So there’s something hidden there, I see.”
Hisshark smiled politely at the Duke’s banter.
“You know it’s a beautiful land.”
“Of course, I know the country is nice, but I don’t know the names of every place. Is it really that good?”
“It’s the kind of place you want to possess.”
“Ah, then take it! Ha ha ha.”
The Duke laughed heartily, then began praising his guest.
“About the supplies last time… the steamship schedule couldn’t keep up with Karl’s company’s delivery rate.”
It was late summer, still warm. Hisshark sipped cold brandy calmly as he responded.
“If the Duke could propose legislation to extend the railways, it would resolve the problem.”
“Eh, that won’t happen overnight. Speaking of shipping… if you were to join, it would feel like having a very reliable partner. What do you think?”
“The reliable one would be my company, not me. I still own all the shares.”
“Ah, but the representative must guide the company, otherwise it won’t move.”
“I’ll review it. By the way, Duke, you must have some magic with words.”
The Duke blinked widely.
“What do you mean?”
“You present a massive venture, something that might take a lifetime to accomplish, as if it were a simple childhood game. I had no interest in shipping, but hearing you present it makes it seem not difficult at all.”
The Duke smiled, satisfied, lowering his voice. Now the real discussion was beginning.
He explained that Tulego, having secured political dominance after fierce battles, planned to expand southward.
“You know Baltess is politically chaotic right now.”
Hisshark had no desire to side with forces attempting to meddle in that scenic, peaceful country. Nevertheless, it would be a primary stage for him—both professionally and personally.
“Other than the beautiful scenery, it has few advantages. If there’s no need to exploit it…”
“If we don’t step in, they will. Baltess is in internal turmoil. Fights between the ruling and reform parties are natural. Being geographically close, we can intervene subtly, perhaps just support the reformers a little.”
“Through supply lines?”
“Exactly!”
The piano from the living room fell silent. The Duke leaned closer, lowering his voice further.
“Sir Axen will inevitably be involved. Besides you, there’s almost no company in the empire that can procure weapons.”
The elderly Duke was revealing precious information to the young blue-eyed businessman for one reason: to covet another’s financial power.
From Hisshark’s perspective, both Count Buchanan—who sent a gypsy boy to the battlefield—and the Tailored Duke—focused on exploiting capital—were equally petty.
The difference was that the Duke cared deeply about solidifying his influence through Karl’s steel factories.
Ah. One more thing—they had another similarity. Both had foolish daughters. For aristocrats, daughters were tools: weapons in crises, weaknesses, negotiable assets, or troublesome liabilities.
Count Buchanan had sent a naive boy to war simply because his daughter played a trivial love game. Controlling a daughter meant for future bargaining was his only duty.
And then…
The rustle of a dress stopped at the entrance of the parlor. Hisshark didn’t need to turn to know who it was, keeping his gaze on his brandy glass.
When a woman in a deep-necked dress approached and paused, he finally lifted his head with a faint smile. It was the Duke’s pride—and his weakness—Veloa, peeking at him.
“Veloa, it sounded lovely. Why did you stop? Don’t you want to show Sir Axen your beautiful skills?”
Though the long conversation had been interrupted awkwardly, the Duke turned to his daughter affectionately. Veloa pouted before speaking.
“I didn’t want to show my practice yet. When I become proficient, then.”
“Practice? Anyone hearing it would think a master teacher was playing.”
“Father, really.”
“How did you find it, Sir?”
The Duke raised an eyebrow expectantly. Hisshark stood and extended his hand to the shy, slightly blushing Veloa.
“Very well played. Distracting only slightly from conversation.”
Veloa shyly twisted her shoulders and extended the back of her hand.
“It’s been a while, Sir Axen.”
Hisshark respectfully kissed the small, fair hand.
