TPES 33

Chapter 33

“Phew….”

As soon as I stood in front of Father’s study, a sigh escaped me on its own.

Since there had been no further conversation after what we discussed when he returned home a few days ago, meeting him again felt unbearably awkward.

“Still, I have to borrow money.”

To be honest, the best person to borrow money from was Father.

Among the people I knew, the only one who had money and was at least somewhat trustworthy toward me was Count Leon.

He won’t refuse… right?

The story about him cutting Rose’s entire budget a few days ago kept bothering me. I worried for quite a while that he might cut my budget as well. In the end, thinking whatever happens, happens, I knocked on the door.

“This is Espin. May I come in for a moment?”

“Come in.”

Count Leon was seated behind a desk piled high with documents, reading them without even looking up at me as I entered.

We were never particularly close, but today the atmosphere felt especially cold.

“I have something to say.”

“Go on.”

For a moment, the chill in the air made me consider just leaving. But I decided to speak anyway. If it worked out, great; if not, I could find another way.

There was no reason not to say it.

“Please lend me some money.”

“All right.”

As if my worry had been pointless, Father nodded readily.

“I haven’t even told you how much yet.”

“How much is it?”

“About three hundred thousand ritas.”

Seeing how the last painting sold for two hundred and fifty thousand ritas, the amount would only continue to rise. At the very least, I needed three hundred thousand.

“Why do you need such a large sum?”

“I’ll pay it back in ten days exactly. With interest, if you want.”

Father stared straight at me.

Does he not trust me?

Well, how could he trust his own daughter?

After the previous countess died, the count had been preoccupied with matters outside the home, and Espin had been raised by servants. In short, there had been no time for a father and daughter to build any bond.

On top of that, in the original story, Espin was infamous for being an easy mark who became a target for scammers. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust a daughter like that either.

Maybe three hundred thousand ritas really is too much.

Just as I was wavering, thinking I might reduce the amount—

“All right. I’ll tell the head butler.”

Without asking any further questions, Father agreed to lend me the money—an amount that most families couldn’t simply hand over.

But there was a condition.

“However.”

“Yes? Is there a condition?”

“You are not to use this money to buy a house, purchase anything that involves a promise of marriage, or offer it as a dowry. Ah, and no becoming independent, and no giving money to another man either.”

“What?”

What kind of ridiculous conditions were those?

A promise-of-marriage item? And a dowry?

I looked at Father with a puzzled expression as he said things I couldn’t possibly understand.

“Ahem. If it’s not for those things, you may use it anywhere you like. After all, there is the inheritance your mother, the former countess, left you.”

“Ah.”

That was why he had agreed so easily.

I almost thought we were close.

I nearly misunderstood and thought we had a good relationship. In reality, he was simply giving me part of the inheritance in advance.

“So there’s no need to pay it back.”

“Yes. That works out well. Then I’ll—”

“Um….”

“Do you have something else to say?”

Father hesitated, working his lips as if debating whether to speak.

“If you have nothing else to say, I’ll be going now.”

Just as I was about to excuse myself, he finally made up his mind and spoke with difficulty.

“I heard that His Grace the Duke of Holt visited today.”

“It was nothing serious. His Grace agreed to be my partner for the imperial banquet.”

“Usually, partners are people who have romantic feelings for each other… You wouldn’t happen to have such feelings for His Grace the Duke of Holt, would you…?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

At my firm answer, Father’s eyes widened slightly.

“It was due to unavoidable circumstances. There’s absolutely nothing romantic.”

“I see. That’s a relief.”

A subtle smile appeared at the corner of Father’s mouth. Looking much more at ease, he set down the pen he had been gripping. Only then did his hand, which had turned pale from how tightly he’d been holding it, begin to regain its normal color.

“Hey, bring a few more chairs.”

The viscount looked around the venue where today’s auction would be held, counting numbers this way and that.

There were seats prepared according to the number of invitations sent out, but a few extra people might come after hearing the rumors.

“Yes, sir.”

“And seat these people as spread out as possible.”

The viscount handed over a sheet of paper with names written on it. They were his shills.

The ease with which he was making money only fueled Viscount Monzas’s greed.

That was how he came up with the idea of using shills—exploiting people’s competitive instincts.

They would drive up the price, and if the final bid ended up lower than the previous auction, a shill would deliberately call out a high price and win the bid. Later, the piece could be resold at a higher price. It was a foolproof plan.

To conceal their identities, he had even required everyone to wear masks from this auction onward.

Only the auction host—himself—and the people he hired verified identities, so there was no risk of exposure.

From the beginning, it was a business with no possibility of loss for the viscount.

“Here’s my invitation.”

As the auction time approached, people began to arrive one by one. The viscount’s employees carefully checked each invitation.

“Viscount.”

A noblewoman wearing a mask approached him and whispered softly.

“How many paintings are left? Please tell me honestly—just me.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’d like to tell you, but there are so many paintings that it takes us a long time to carefully examine which ones are actually by Melchasky. As soon as we find one, we put it up for auction, so I can’t say how many are left.”

The viscount deliberately hinted that this might be the last piece. He wanted to stir people’s anxiety by making them think today’s work could be the final one.

Those who fell for the ploy paid even more to secure the artwork.

“Ha… then the first auction piece—are you sure the Duchess of Ameron won it?”

“This concerns the bidder’s personal information, so I really shouldn’t say…”

“Viscount, I’ll keep it to myself. Just tell me quietly.”

“Oh dear, this puts me in a difficult position.”

The viscount gave a slight nod.

“I knew it.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled. Thinking that if the trend-setting Duchess of Ameron owned one, she had to have one too in order not to fall behind, the noblewoman’s resolve to win the bid burned even stronger.

This was all exactly as the viscount intended. Even before the first auction began, he had deliberately approached the Duchess of Ameron and planted the seed.

Thanks to that groundwork, the duchess became the first winning bidder, and noblewomen who heard the rumor grew increasingly desperate to secure a piece themselves.

It felt like another record-breaking price was likely today as well.

Smiling in satisfaction as he looked at the wallets filling the seats one by one, the viscount headed to the preparation room.

“So you’re finally painting something worth looking at.”

Pressed for time, Orson—the viscount’s younger brother—had barely slept while finishing the painting. He was now curled up asleep in a corner of the preparation room.

The viscount nudged him awake with his foot. Orson opened his eyes with effort, recognized his brother, and hurriedly sat up.

“The paint is completely dry, right?”

“Yes… I stayed up all night fanning it. It’s perfectly dry.”

Orson said this while rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Then get ready to bring it inside.”

Wary of his identity being exposed, the viscount used only the bare minimum of staff—and made full use of his brother instead.

With his heart pounding at the thought of the fortune he was about to make, he straightened his clothes and headed to the auction hall.

“Thank you all for participating in today’s auction.”

Every prepared chair was filled. Some people who had come as guests of guests were even standing, unable to find seats.

“I didn’t expect so many of you to attend. Next time, we’ll prepare more seating. Now, let me show you today’s auction piece.”

At the viscount’s signal, Orson brought out the painting. When the cloth covering it was removed, gasps of admiration poured out from the crowd.

Watching their reaction, Orson could only manage a bitter smile.