Chapter 42
[Kleist Bank]
It looked more like an opera house than a bank.
A structure that seemed practical yet never sacrificed aesthetics—just like its owner.
Odette halted in front of the building, reminiscent of the Beaux-Arts style she once learned about back in her previous life.
“Whoa, whoa.”
Dismounting, she checked the time on a pocket watch engraved with the Kleist family crest through the veil covering her face and lightly bit her lip.
“It’s already 11. I’m later than I thought.”
The delay was because of Theodore’s outburst when they were leaving the detention center with the children.
Theodore simply couldn’t accept that Karl would be left behind.
“Everyone finds Karl creepy! They’re going to kill him, I know it!”
Certain that Odette intended to kill Karl, Theodore cried uncontrollably. Odette had exhausted herself trying to calm him down.
Had Karl not knocked Theodore unconscious by striking the back of his neck, they wouldn’t have made it before midnight.
Odette, still rubbing the bruised shoulder she got from Theodore’s struggling, pulled a letter from her pocket and clutched it tightly.
“I’ll ask the bank manager to deliver this letter to Sion and then head straight to the mansion.”
She had hastily scrawled the letter on the train.
The letter simply read: “I want to purchase all the information Your Excellency has on Karl.”
That damned man would no doubt demand an outrageous price in return, but for now, the important thing was to send the letter before the day ended.
He’d need time to gather the intel, after all.
She remembered Sion’s letter once said: “If you ever need anything, just go to the bank and show the necklace.”
The necklace was incredibly effective. The guard at the front gate of the bank, upon seeing it, immediately exclaimed:
“Please wait right here!”
He then ran off to fetch the bank manager in a panic.
Moments later, a man in his mid-30s came running into the lobby in his indoor shoes and bowed 90 degrees to Odette.
“Greetings, milady. I am Max Kleist, the bank manager of the capital branch. I will guide you to the VIP reception room—please follow me.”
Odette, behind her veil, blinked in surprise.
“So Max is the capital’s bank manager?”
She recognized him.
He was a character from the Sion Route—a collateral relative of the Kleist family and the third son, with no title to inherit.
“He was described as financially brilliant… but I didn’t think he’d be working this close to Sion.”
Because in the Sion Route, he was one of the antagonists.
He strongly opposed Sion marrying a commoner like Charlotte, insisting she should remain only a mistress, and refused to back down until the end. Even when Sion told him to shut up, he remained uncompromising. Eventually, Sion stripped him of the Kleist family name.
“So they were close once. You wouldn’t entrust someone with a role like capital bank manager otherwise.”
Then again, if Sion was to prove his love for Charlotte, severing ties like this might have been necessary.
“It’s our first time meeting. A pleasure, Max.”
Odette greeted him as if she didn’t know him and handed over the letter.
“No need for the reception room. My visit is simple. I just want this letter sent to His Excellency as quickly as possible. That’s all.”
It would be much faster than using the central post office. The Kleist bank likely had its own internal courier system.
However, Max shook his head with a troubled expression.
“His Excellency gave strict orders. Anything related to the lady carrying the necklace must be handled directly by him.”
“That’s troublesome. I don’t have time to meet in person.”
“His Excellency guaranteed he would arrive within five minutes. Please, allow me to escort you to the reception room.”
Max was insistent, leaving Odette little room to argue.
“If it’s within five minutes, I suppose it’s fine.”
“Then I’ll accept your escort.”
Odette followed Max to the reception room.
Max glared at the marquis as if chewing glass.
“What the hell kind of new madness is this?”
“Shut up.”
“Do I look like I can shut up right now? The only redeeming quality of the Director—who’s currently wasting time here—is his punctuality!”
Max nervously checked his pocket watch again.
“When the hell are you going down there?”
Midnight was approaching.
He had confidently claimed it would take five minutes, and yet Lady Albrecht had now been waiting nearly an hour.
“Maybe I should’ve just taken the letter myself?”
The reception room was directly below this office.
Max couldn’t understand why Sion, who had arrived long ago, was wasting time here in the bank manager’s office.
“What’s gotten into you now? Didn’t you just have fun tormenting Count Albrecht at the palace?”
No doubt he had just been toying with Count Albrecht again.
“Purify the Crown Prince and we’ll meet all your demands,” he must have said.
Starting tomorrow, it would be more emotional torture: “Though the rampage passed safely this time, such events could happen again. We’ll offer the promised compensation in advance for your future cooperation.”
While Count Albrecht floated in his hopes and dreams, Sion’s lackeys were busy laundering his illegal funds. The cleaned-up money was being funneled straight into Kleist bank vaults.
So why was Sion in such a foul mood?
“Why the hell did you come running like an excited monkey if you’re just going to sit here brooding like a depressed philosopher?”
He sat at the head of the office table, flipping through documents in frustration.
“If you’re going to read documents, at least read them properly. Why are you reading them upside down?”
“…Ah.”
Max had suspected something was wrong, seeing the infamous document-reading machine taking forever.
And sure enough, at his comment, Sion quietly flipped the paper right side up.
Even so, the way he stubbornly kept his head down gave off the air of a sulky child.
A word Max had never imagined associating with his cold, bastardly cousin.
“For god’s sake! When are you going down there?! She’s right below us! Why waste time up here? You’re the Empire’s biggest jerk, sure, but punctuality is your one redeeming trait!”
“I said shut up. I’m not going.”
“Huh? Why not? You sprain your ankle or something?”
But Sion only gave him a pitiful look and sighed.
“Is he insane? Who’s the pitiful one here?”
Worn out, Max grumbled.
“Ugh. Now I look like the one who breaks promises to a pretty girl. Damn selfish bastard.”
Even knowing her reputation, Odette was stunning. He worried about looking like a fool in front of her.
Max smacked his lips, recalling the girl in the reception room.
It wasn’t until she removed her veiled hat that he realized the woman with the necklace was Odette—and he’d been shocked.
That upright posture, the polite greeting. Who would’ve guessed such an elegant person was the infamous villainess?
And when she rang the bell thirty minutes later and politely asked, “May I ask when His Excellency will arrive?”, Max had felt his face burn with shame.
“Fine. I give up. I’ll stop trying. You’ve always been emotional when it comes to the name Odette.”
He glanced at Sion’s arm, which flinched ever so slightly.
“I know very well how much you hate that woman. Hell, I’d understand not even wanting to see her face.”
“That’s not it. Not… like that.”
Sion immediately denied it in a suppressed voice—but to Max, it only confirmed the opposite.
The man who’s obsessed with time—practically has a time obsession disorder—is sitting here checking his watch every few seconds and still refusing to go to her.
What more proof could there be?
