CHAPTER 58………………..
After returning home, the Marquis first searched for the notice that Bear had mentioned.
Two letters he had never seen before were indeed tucked in among his work documents.
As Bear said, they were the notice he had received the day after his first loan and a copy of the loan contract with additional conditions.
“I… I really did receive them…”
The Marquis went pale, staggered, and called for his butler.
“Lance! Lance, when did this come? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
He hurled the papers in his hand at the butler’s face in a fit of rage.
The sheets scattered at the butler’s feet. He bowed his head calmly.
“My apologies, My Lord. I brought them to you, but it seems you did not notice.”
“What do we do now! You should’ve handled this properly! What are we supposed to do!”
“I’m sorry.”
The repeated apology carried no emotion.
He had delivered the letters, but knowing his master’s irresponsible nature, he had simply left them where they would be found.
The butler’s loyalty to the Marquis family had long since faded, but the Marquis, unaware of this, vented his frustration at him for a long time.
Then, left alone in his office, the Marquis clutched his head in despair.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
Where could he possibly get 880,000 gold within a week?
Even if he sold the estate and the fief, it would not be enough.
But simply refusing to pay wasn’t an option either… that young moneylender would never leave him alone.
Even if he planned to repay later, the weekly interest rate was 25 percent—it was terrifying to imagine how fast the debt would grow.
He was sinking into despair, unable even to light his cigar, when—
Knock, knock.
“Darling… I have something to tell you.”
The Marchioness carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
She hesitantly sat down, and the Marquis straightened his posture, wary.
Both were guilty in their own ways, and neither could easily begin the conversation. Finally, the Marquis spoke first.
“So… what is it?”
“…I’m sorry, dear. The truth is, I’ve run up some debt at the dressmaker’s.”
“Debt? How much?”
“A little over 300,000 gold…”
The Marchioness feared her husband’s fury but had no choice but to confess if she wished to avoid being sued.
Contrary to her expectation, however, the Marquis did not explode in anger—he only sighed quietly.
Of course. His own debt was three times larger.
“…Actually, I’m in debt as well.”
“What? What kind of debt?”
“I… lost it at cards.”
“You gambled again?!”
Her voice rose to a shriek. The Marquis frowned, displeased.
“And what about you! Sneaking around wasting money on luxury and racking up 300,000 gold in debt!”
“T-that’s… So how much is your debt, dear?”
“…”
“Darling?”
The Marquis mumbled something under his breath. She leaned closer to hear.
“Eight-seven… what? Eight hundred and seventy thousand gold?!”
“Ahem!”
He cleared his throat awkwardly. The Marchioness was dumbstruck.
Together, their debts totaled around 1.19 million gold.
“W-what are we going to do…? If I don’t pay, the dressmaker will sue me!”
“My creditors are threatening my life.”
“That can’t be…”
She slumped in despair, but then, looking at her husband’s golden hair, she thought of someone.
“…Darling, what if we ask Franz?”
“Do you think that boy has over a million gold?”
“You never know. Even a little would help.”
“…True, there’s that.”
What a shameless conversation.
They, who had failed to support Franz as a child and instead used threats, now sought his help.
Yet, having cast aside all shame, the Marquis couple summoned Franz the next day.
They explained their situation and asked for aid. Surprisingly, Franz readily agreed.
“With what I’ve saved and some funds I can gather, I should be able to pay it all off.”
“Really? Thank goodness.”
The Marquis let out a sigh of relief and reached for his cigar. The Marchioness, sitting beside him, also relaxed.
Just before he lit it—
“But, on one condition.”
Franz smiled brightly.
“Hand over the family name and the title to me.”
“…What?”
“Are you insane?”
The cigar dropped from the Marquis’s lips to the floor.
The Marchioness stared at Franz in disbelief.
“Did you think I’d pay such a sum with no strings attached?”
“Of course! You’re my son!”
“Seventeen years ago, you told me I wasn’t—and threw me out.”
Franz retorted with scorn.
His once gentle expression now turned cold as he stared at his parents.
“Transfer the title and the family name. If you sign a document relinquishing all rights, I’ll help you.”
“You insolent wretch!”
The Marquis leapt up, face red, jabbing a finger at his son.
“Franz Ravello, do you have no respect for your parents?!”
“No, none at all.”
“W-what?”
“If you wanted respect, you shouldn’t have raised me like that, Father.”
Franz sneered openly at his father before his expression hardened.
“Now that I’m a father myself, I understand even less how you treated children so cruelly.”
He thought of his younger sister.
Priscilla was so young then.
That fragile girl had shouldered the burden of being the elder twin, struggling to survive.
Remembering how she died, he knew he could never forgive the Marquis family.
“Make your choice. Lose your name and title through gambling and luxury, disgraced forever in noble society—or give them to me.”
“…!”
The couple flinched. To suffer such dishonor would indeed mean permanent exile from noble society.
Franz gave them a cold look, then rose without a word of farewell.
They could only sit there in shock, unable to stop him from leaving.
The Marquis couple could not decide immediately. But Claire was calm.
There was no way they could raise such a sum in just a week.
“In the end, they’ll come to Franz of their own accord.”
And so, everything they had once tried so hard to trample would fall into the hands of the siblings.
“Young Lady, this is from the butler.”
Becca quietly handed her a letter.
It was from Alex, whining about how hard life was in the Pakan Kingdom and how he had no money coming in.
Claire skimmed it and promptly burned it. She had done the same with all his previous letters.
“It seems Alex must really miss his parents.”
“In that case, I’ll help as a good sister should.”
She murmured meaningfully, then took out paper and pen.
Soon, she summoned Becca and Lena, handing each an envelope.
“Becca, send this to Darling’s Dress Shop.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
“And Lena, deliver this to Morning Olsen—without anyone knowing.”
Morning Olsen was one of the capital’s four major newspapers.
Nicknamed “Money-Mad News.”
They thrived on gossip and scandal, so they would certainly print what Claire sent.
Watching her maids depart with the letters, Claire smiled quietly.
Two days later.
Rumors spread like wildfire around Darling’s Dress Shop, tarnishing the Marchioness’s reputation.
She had always flaunted her wealth, scorning others, and now had squandered her fortune on vanity.
Having already humiliated herself before Countess Gordon and her circle, the Marchioness’s reputation was dealt a fatal blow.
“Aaah! My image! What will I do now?!”
Her screams shook the Marquis’s mansion.
Meanwhile, the Marquis himself fared no better. A major newspaper had just published a bombshell piece about him.
[Exclusive) Noble A on the Verge of Ruin from Gambling Debts!]
Though unnamed, it would take little time for his identity to be exposed if he failed to repay.
“Bear, you wretched cur! I won’t let you get away with this—!”
Hearing his curses echo throughout the estate, Claire smiled with satisfaction.
With pressure closing in from all sides, the Marquis couple could not hold out for long.
But then—
Unexpected news arrived for Claire from Teddy.
“Who did you say he met?”
“Duke Muton,” Theodore replied calmly.
“The Marquis of Ravello secretly went to see Duke Muton.”
