Episode 60
He had never planned to inherit his parents’ shabby brewery business. But the money—and the condition attached to it—instantly flipped that decision.
The anonymous noble’s offer was simple: recreate the same rosé wine that had launched this year.
That was all. If he succeeded, the business would be entirely his, and all profits would go to him.
There was no reason to refuse. Brewing was the only skill he had—one he’d been forced to learn since childhood. As long as he followed his memories, success was within reach.
“Well, it’s not a perfect copy, but close enough. I got lucky.”
Parda George puckered his fish-like lips at the wine bottle. Sluurp. The moist sound was followed by fog on the glass from his breath.
Taste is subjective—some people would be drawn to his wine. And even those who had tasted the original rosé might be curious enough to try this “new” version.
“Who cares if it’s the original or a copy? The one left standing in the end is the winner.”
Even if he was accused of plagiarism, it didn’t matter—as long as the money came in. He had no honor to lose, which is why he released his pink wine at a cheaper price than the original rosé.
In these times, just being the first to release something didn’t guarantee protection.
As long as there were slight differences and he emphasized them, people couldn’t complain. And really, no one cared who made it first.
In fact, people might even support him if his wine was cheaper and easier to get.
“I hope they back off soon. Then I can mark it up and slap a premium on it. Ha!”
He was already looking forward to the day when rosé sales would drop and customers would flock to his pink wine instead. That would be the day he started raking in real money.
He couldn’t stop smiling. As he chuckled to himself and poured champagne until it overflowed the glass—
“My lord!”
“Didn’t I say not to interrupt me?”
“I apologize, but I believe you need to see this right away…”
His butler approached with a pale face and handed him a white envelope. For a brief moment, Parda George considered throwing his glass at the man for ruining his mood.
“What’s got you so worked up, huh? Tch.”
Thankfully, the glass didn’t fly. He was in such a good mood that, uncharacteristically, he showed restraint.
Parda George snatched the envelope, shot his butler a glare, and looked down.
“Where’s this from…”
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room.
He hadn’t even realized he dropped the glass. His hands, clutching the letter, were trembling uncontrollably.
Glass shards scattered around the ripped envelope on the floor. The butler stepped back cautiously, reading the atmosphere.
“What the hell is this nonsense?! Trademark infringement? Patent rights?!”
“It’s a court summons, sir. The knights are already waiting at the front gate…”
Parda George’s face turned bright red, ready to burst.
It wasn’t just a notice of damages and an immediate sales suspension for violating patent rights—it came with knights.
He was dumbfounded. What the hell were patent rights, and why was the court getting involved?
“What kind of sick joke is this? Get out of my way! I need to go straighten this out!”
He stormed out of the room, shouting about how the pink wine was rightfully his, completely ignoring the knights.
But his path was blocked—strong hands grabbed his arms.
“Do you know who I am?!”
Sweat pouring from his face, Parda George suddenly found a warrant for his emergency arrest waved in front of him.
His loud voice was no match for his dangling legs, which swayed in the air due to the height difference—making the whole scene rather pathetic.
“Wh-what is this?! What kind of law lets you arrest a man over patents?! This is oppression—!”
“The law went into effect this year,” said the knight holding his left arm with an emotionless tone. “People tend to ignore new laws, so this month we’ve been strictly enforcing this one to spread awareness…”
“Bad timing, I suppose.”
It was a tone soaked in contempt.
Patent rights.
A foreign concept to most in this era.
But for Louisa, who had once lived in modern society, it was perfectly familiar. And the fact that this law had just taken effect this year only meant one thing:
Use it to your full advantage.
It wasn’t a perfect law—it couldn’t catch every subtle case of plagiarism. But blatant copying? That it could catch with ease.
And because it was such a new system, the standards for patent approval were still loose. Louisa exploited that expertly.
Good thing I told Brown to file the patent first.
She included every shade of pink and rose that could be associated with rosé wine.
As for flavor, there were already many wines on the market. Trying to patent a specific taste could appear too greedy and cause backlash. So Louisa focused instead on the wine’s distinct color as a key characteristic and registered that.
The authorities were quick to act—likely as a way to show off the new system in action—but the punishment itself wasn’t severe. With no previous case law, it would probably end in a slap on the wrist.
But far more dangerous than jail time was debt. If sales were suddenly halted and investments couldn’t be recovered, the business would collapse.
And that’s exactly what was about to happen to Parda George.
Now the question is: What to do about the person who invested in that jerk?
Louisa lightly tapped the front-page newspaper article about the rosé wine patent case.
Three days had passed since.
Unlike the Albert Rosé family, who were shocked by the move but later relieved, the public now knew that Louisa Blake and Albert Rosé held the patent for rosé wine.
“Mmm… It’s really transparent now.”
Louisa’s eyes cooled as she looked at the mountain of letters beside the paper.
Ever since the rumors spread, letters had flooded in. It felt like she’d received a lifetime’s worth in just a few days.
“I should just use them as kindling.”
She was just thinking about telling someone to take them away when Brown arrived, holding even more letters.
“Don’t tell me those are for me too?”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Yes… haha…”
“Burn those along with the rest.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to read any of them?”
“Yup. But I doubt that’s the only reason you came.”
“Correct. I found the financial trail behind Parda George.”
Brown’s smile faded slightly.
“Is it who I thought?”
“Yes… if I may, how did you know?”
“Of course that’s a secret. You’ll report everything I do to my father anyway, won’t you?”
“No! The Duke ordered us not to report anything you instructed personally.”
“Funny. He seemed to know a lot about the wine business.”
“That was—!”
“You don’t have to lie. I get it…”
“I’m not lying! That was just a misunderstanding. When Baron Albert Rosé came to visit, I had to explain—your father assumed it was something personal because it’s rare for you to have guests, and the Baron is unmarried, so…”
“What? My father? He doesn’t care about that kind of stuff.”
“No, he absolutely does! When I told him it was strictly business, he looked visibly relieved!”
Well… he was her father. Maybe it wasn’t just health matters he cared about.
The idea that he might also care about her personal life gave Louisa a conflicted expression.
Is he only pretending to care because he knows I won’t marry anyone anyway?
She didn’t have any loyal aides, and it was a hassle to look for one, so giving orders to the competent and convenient Brown was just the easiest option.
Well, it’s not like I had to lie. Even if I told the truth, it wouldn’t matter.
In any case, the rosé wine matter was far more pressing than whether or not she’d discussed it with her father. Brown had executed everything she asked with precision.
Especially when she asked him to check whether they could register a joint patent with Albert Rosé immediately after releasing the wine—an order that paid off big time.
Now they had returned full circle: investigating the man behind Parda George.
Louisa had given Brown a name and ordered the investigation to center around him.
Marquis Louis Dimitri—the Empress’s brother.
If Louis Dimitri was involved, then the Empress is definitely behind this.
In the original story, Louis Dimitri’s role was to handle dirty work in the shadows on behalf of the Empress.
Louisa had suspected as much when rumors about her terminal illness started spreading from the Empress’s palace.
Now she had her answer: The Empress was actively trying to suppress her.
