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CHAPTER 99……….
‘Come to think of it, didn’t we recruit some fashion designers last time?’
For months now, he’d been paying salaries to the designers he had hired to block Leticia’s business—without giving them a single task.
‘Then why don’t I gather those designers and start a clothing business?’
Business had its trends and limits. Once things were established, it was hard to maintain them by simply sitting still.
If the Farnese dukedom was to keep its prestige, it was time to expand into a new line of work.
And above all—
‘If I take control of the clothing business, I might be able to crush that woman Leticia’s pride.’
It would be a chance to show that the wealth of the Farnese dukedom was not because of her abilities, but entirely due to his own.
If that happened, perhaps investors would reevaluate his business acumen and be willing to invest again.
But there was one decisive problem.
‘Starting a new business requires capital…’
He was already juggling payments just to cover immediate bills.
‘Is there nowhere I can get investment?’
As he thought over the distant relatives and noble families he usually socialized with, Phaidan frowned.
‘To think I’d have to bow my head to those people…’
The thought was distasteful.
While rubbing his chin in thought, a certain person came to mind.
‘Yes, if it’s him…!’
The next day—
The place Phaidan visited was…
‘As expected, the Grand Duke’s residence is on another scale entirely.’
It was the Grand Duke Zahir’s estate.
Yesterday afternoon, Phaidan had recalled something Deon once said at a charity bazaar:
“If you ever need my help, come see me anytime.”
He’d heard that Deon lent money to people in difficult circumstances and charged interest.
For someone like Phaidan, who desperately needed funds, Deon was the perfect helper.
‘Thinking about his history with Leticia is a bit unpleasant…’
But right now, his anger toward Idris—who had taken Leticia from him—was greater than his anger toward Deon, who had once made advances toward her.
Besides, Deon was royalty, so asking him for help would hurt his pride less than going to some cadet branch or another noble family.
With that in mind, he had sent a letter requesting a meeting yesterday, and…
The reply came that very night.
[As it happens, I’m free tomorrow. Come by.]
It seemed Deon’s words about wanting good to prevail had not been a lie—his answer was friendly enough.
Phaidan entered the drawing room with the butler, anticipation in his chest.
Deon was already waiting there.
“I had hoped we would meet again, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”
“I remembered Your Highness told me to contact you freely. I reached out on a whim, but I didn’t expect you to so readily agree. I’m grateful.”
“I wasn’t just saying it. Please, have a seat.”
A cup of tea had been prepared in advance for Phaidan’s place.
After taking a sip himself, Deon got to the point.
“Forgive me for being abrupt, but I have another engagement at lunch. May we get straight to the reason you’ve come?”
“Ah, yes!”
Phaidan put the cup down without having taken even a sip.
“The truth is, I’m preparing a new business. But as you may have guessed, the investors have all pulled out because of recent events.”
“Oh dear. People without faith in their own judgment tend to be swayed by public opinion like that.”
“Yes! Spineless fools! Who do they think has been leading the dukedom all this time, to flinch at mere gossip like some women…”
Getting carried away at Deon’s sympathy, Phaidan raised his voice before catching himself and regaining composure.
“In any case, I need capital for this new venture… and I’ve heard Your Highness handles large loans.”
“So you’re asking for my help?”
“Yes… If possible, I would be most grateful.”
Deon didn’t answer immediately. He took a slow sip of tea, letting the moment stretch.
Phaidan, tense, placed his hands on his knees. His palms were damp with sweat.
Deon was his last hope, and that made him all the more desperate.
Finally, Deon spoke.
“I’ll help you.”
“R-Really?”
“As I’ve said before, I want to see the righteous prevail.”
Hearing the answer he’d hoped for, Phaidan’s face lit up at once.
“Thank you! Thank you, Your Highness!”
But there was a condition.
“Of course, I’m no philanthropist. I won’t take on risk for nothing.”
“You mean…?”
“You’ll pay interest for the period of the loan. Moving such a large amount of cash is a burden even for me.”
Indeed, handling such large sums wasn’t easy—
—which was exactly why Phaidan had come to him in the first place.
Yet even so, the proposal gave him pause.
‘I’ve heard many stories of people ruined by borrowing money this way…’
Sensing his hesitation, Deon asked,
“Is there any reason to hesitate? Unless you’re planning to dive into a doomed venture without confidence in it.”
Phaidan flinched.
If he hesitated now, he’d look like a reckless child throwing himself into a flimsy business with borrowed money.
His pride throbbed painfully.
‘Either way, if I borrow from someone else, I’ll still have to repay with interest.’
Provoked by Deon’s words, Phaidan firmed his resolve. Looking him in the eye, he spoke with conviction:
“I accept your offer, Your Highness.”
Unaware of the chilling glint in Deon’s eyes as he looked at him.
On the way to the boutique—
I heard news from Wigg about my father.
“I looked into Viscount Cloel, and yesterday morning he left the capital by train.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I confirmed with the station staff.”
‘What on earth has gotten into him?’
Knowing he had left the capital brought some relief, but the sudden change in behavior left a lingering unease.
Still, there was no need to pry and create trouble unnecessarily.
“You’ve worked hard.”
The carriage soon arrived at the boutique.
As usual, we entered through the back door, where Madame greeted us.
“Lady Leticia, the Count’s daughter from House Florence is here to see you.”
A surprising announcement.
“Lady Florence? Why would she…?”
Lady Luwen Florence—
—the very same lady who had drunk poison in the Imperial Palace.
She had written before the bazaar to say she would be focusing on recovery and wouldn’t attend.
Since she had come here now, she must have fully recovered.
“Prepare some cool dandelion tea.”
“Not black tea?”
“No, dandelion.”
I made the request to Madame, then sent Wigg away before entering the reception room.
Luwen, startled, rose to her feet.
“Your Grace—oh, I mean, Lady Cloel!”
“It’s been a while, Lady Florence. Have you been feeling better?”
“Thanks to you. I’m truly grateful.”
She was about to say more when a staff member entered, set the tea down, and left.
Luwen tilted her head at the cup in front of her.
“Is this a flower tea?”
“It’s dandelion tea. I thought you might prefer it.”
The tea she had drunk at the Empress’s tea party—the poisoned tea—had been black tea.
Even if she had fully recovered, the memory and fear of black tea would linger.
But instead, her eyes began to glisten with tears.
‘…Did I just remind her of her trauma instead?’
I wondered if I’d done the wrong thing.
Then Luwen suddenly grabbed my hand.
“…Lady Florence?”
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Lady Cloel. If not for you, by now I would have…”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the words.
I was used to the polite facades and measured kindness of high society, so such heartfelt gratitude felt foreign and awkward.
“If you thank me so much, I’ll feel embarrassed… Honestly, I helped you less for your sake and more because I knew I’d regret it all my life if I turned away in that moment.”
“But even so, there are people who would turn away. And some who deliberately create such moments.”
Her eyes flashed with anger at the mention of the latter.
I didn’t need to ask who she was thinking of.
“I actually wanted to thank you sooner, but you seemed busy after the bazaar. And I thought it was better to say it in person than in a letter.”
“You did well. I’m glad to see you looking better.”
Encouraged by my words, Luwen’s eyes sparkled as she pulled something out.
“And… I have another reason for coming here…”
