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“Me? As Your Grace’s ally?”
“Yes.”
“…It’s an honor that you hold me in such regard, but… do you really believe I have any power that could be of use to Your Grace?”
“Of course.”
I answered immediately to Elam, who asked with a troubled expression. After all, among those I could count on right now, who else could match him?
He possessed not only personal knowledge about Marquis Even and his daughter, but also solid business skills. Such a supporter would be hard to find anywhere—almost impossible, really.
“The person who can provide me with the information I most need right now is you, Elam. And it isn’t only about Marquis Even and his daughter. If it’s you, wouldn’t you be able to predict what kind of interference they might attempt in the future?”
“I couldn’t give you a detailed plan… but I should be able to make some guesses.”
“Exactly. I need every bit of foresight and information I can get. And I need your business skills as well.”
“My business skills… you must be referring to this restaurant.”
“Correct.”
He seemed to grasp exactly what I meant. His expression shifted noticeably, far more serious than before. Afraid that he might reject me, I hurried to continue.
“What I ask of you is to share information about Marquis Even and Lady Julieta, as I said. And as for the contract I wish to propose—it’s a collaboration between Sub-Baron Evitt’s new café branch in the capital, Café Roland, and this restaurant of yours.”
“I understand about sharing information on that man and Julieta. As for the contract proposal, I see the outline, but I’d like to hear more details about what you mean by ‘collaboration’ between Sub-Baron Evitt, myself, and this place.”
“All right. You know that Marquis Even’s café essentially copied everything from Sub-Baron Evitt’s café, don’t you? From the menu to the interior.”
“Yes, I am aware.”
“The varieties of flower tea differ slightly, but anyone could tell they were imitations of his. The taste, however, is worlds apart.”
Even with preparation, there hadn’t been enough time to properly train his tea sommeliers. Of course, the flavor of his flower tea couldn’t compare to the Sub-Baron’s.
Marquis Even probably had never truly tasted Sub-Baron Evitt’s teas—or perhaps he simply lacked the palate to appreciate them. Otherwise, could the teas brewed by his handpicked sommeliers have been so inferior?
“Have you tried the flower tea at that café?”
“Yes. Before coming here yesterday, His Grace the Archduke and I visited it, pretending to be customers. By chance, we even ran into Marquis Even.”
“…I see.”
“He was very confident, offering me tea with a smug smile. Without even being asked, he went on about how much effort he had put into it. The décor and teaware were refined, certainly, but when I finally took a sip, the taste was dreadful.”
“So, it seems they couldn’t replicate the Sub-Baron’s tea at all.”
“Not in the slightest. I couldn’t find even a trace of similarity.”
I still couldn’t fathom what confidence had led him to serve such tea. It was certainly his mistake. He had failed at the one thing that mattered most—the taste itself.
Did Lady Julieta, that possessor, not meddle in that aspect?
If she had truly been helping him, she would have paid more attention to flavor. Atmosphere and décor aside, the essence of a café was the tea. Sub-Baron Evitt’s success lay in that unique taste. Surely she must have known?
The thought nagged at me, but Elam was waiting expectantly, so I continued.
“So after a sip, I put the cup down and stood up. I told him outright the tea was unpleasant before leaving. When I gave him my opinion of the flavor, you should’ve seen his face.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“He kept going on about people’s ‘roots,’ so I said, ‘Even a person with noble roots can’t easily produce a tea that satisfies with purity and clarity.’ Then I added that if he wanted to harp on about roots, he should look beyond appearances and into the essence.”
“…”
“Before boasting of lineage, one should reflect on what truly matters. If he has any wit at all, he would have understood my meaning.”
“…”
“Elam?”
I thought I had landed a solid blow against the Marquis. I hadn’t meant to insult Elam himself. In fact, I expected him to be pleased. But he only stared at me silently, his face stiffening, brows furrowed, lips pressed tight—as though restraining anger.
Wait—had I said something wrong? Had I overstepped by speaking ill of his father in front of him? But hadn’t I assumed his feelings toward the Marquis bordered on hatred?
His reaction caught me completely off guard. As I struggled to think how to recover, a breathy sound escaped him.
“…Ha… haha!”
“Elam?”
He exhaled lightly, then suddenly burst into laughter. I blinked in surprise, studying him carefully.
The grim expression had vanished. He was smiling brightly now, as though he had never been biting his lip or frowning at all.
So that was it. He hadn’t been angry—he’d been holding back laughter.
Relief washed over me, though his reaction was far fresher than I had expected.
After a while, he calmed down and looked at me.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. That was discourteous of me.”
“No, it’s fine. Can I take it that you laughed because my words pleased you?”
“Of course. If not, I wouldn’t have laughed like that. It’s simply been a long time since I felt such satisfaction—I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s good to hear. Honestly, your face was so grave I thought you were upset.”
“What? Impossible. Why would I be upset? On the contrary, Your Grace struck him perfectly. It was refreshing.”
The tension had vanished completely from him. After laughing heartily, he now looked relaxed, even liberated.
So it had been my misunderstanding after all. Considering he didn’t even call Marquis Even “father,” it would have been stranger if he had been offended.
It was the first time I had ever seen him laugh so openly. He always wore faint smiles, but this bright expression suited him just as well.
Adjusting his spectacles, slightly askew from laughter, he straightened and spoke again.
“I imagine Your Grace’s words struck him harder than expected.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he always believes he is the best, that nothing is beyond him. Being rejected by Sub-Baron Evitt’s contract must have wounded his pride deeply. I’m certain he wished to eliminate him at all costs.”
“The terms Marquis Even offered were practically a slave contract. If Evitt had signed, he would have lost everything to him and never escaped.”
“He judges people solely by whether they have skills worth exploiting. A textbook noble who clings to his own power. I doubt he ever saw that contract as unfair.”
“…That explains it.”
It had been absurdly one-sided, yet he considered it perfectly reasonable. I mentally added another line to my evaluation of Marquis Even: not just selfish, but delusional.
Elam gave a wry smile at my grimace and continued.
“Even if Julieta helped him greatly, he was not idle. He is still the one managing the Marquisate and its enterprises. As family head, he has fulfilled his role.”
“So he did play his part as patriarch and business representative.”
“Yes. No matter what Julieta advised, in the end, the decisions were his. And until now, those decisions hadn’t failed him. His only failure was in the café business.”
“And that failure was compounded by Sub-Baron Evitt and the foreign investor ‘Anas Wen.’ No wonder he’s seething. Not only did he fail, but two people of questionable ‘roots’ thwarted him.”
“Precisely. Regrettably, had Sub-Baron Evitt been merely a baron, not a sub-baron, the Marquis might have acted differently. As you know, in noble society, sub-barons receive poor treatment—sometimes not even regarded as true nobility.”
“That’s true. I heard that when he sought investors for expansion, he was humiliated often for his rank.”
Turned away at doors, ignored, insulted… He told me he was on the verge of giving up when he met me.
I recalled his words, how he had described me as a ray of light, his gratitude still vivid. Thirst tightening my throat, I drained the last of my tea.
As I set down the empty cup, Elam asked gently, “Shall I brew you more?”
“No, I’m fine. I was just feeling stifled thinking about all Sub-Baron Evitt endured. I’m all right now. Please continue.”
“As you wish.”
He nodded and resumed.
“To him, the sight of a rootless sub-baron and an unknown foreign investor joining hands and succeeding—exactly as you said—must have set his heart ablaze.”
“Daring to reject his offer and side with some mysterious outsider? Petty of him. He could have simply brought a fairer proposal.”
“If he were capable of fair terms, he would never have made that proposal in the first place.”
At that, I couldn’t help but laugh with him. He was absolutely right.
“So, that’s why he turned to Lady Julieta for schemes of sabotage?”
“Yes. Spreading malicious rumors, producing counterfeits—it may not have been the main strategy, but he must have hoped it would cause some damage. Yet it achieved little.”
“That must have only infuriated him more.”
“Without a doubt. He must have been seething. And then came something worse.”
“You mean when Lucius and I judged his café’s tea unworthy?”
“That, yes—but more than that, it was Your Grace’s scathing words. After all his posturing about roots, to have someone like you dismiss his effort and walk away… I’m sure he is grinding his teeth in frustration even now. Quite satisfying, isn’t it?”
A refreshing smile spread across Elam’s face.
