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Chapter 38
“D-Did she leave?”
With a voice that drooped as if something enormous had just swept past, Elliot asked the question. I nodded.
“Yeah. She’s gone.”
As soon as she discovered the entrance to the ruins, Diana, who had come to us, quickly assessed the situation and then left right away.
The image of Diana glaring at me with those intensely sharp eyes still lingered before me.
‘Felt like lasers were going to shoot out of her eyes.’
If I recalled the way she appeared in the original work, I knew my actions right now were insane—but what could I do?
If I didn’t get the “Orb” right now, I’d be dead.
Better to make an enemy of Diana than to die.
At that moment—
“Th-this will be fine, right? What if we provoked her for nothing and…”
“Elliot.”
“…”
He looked like he had drained all his mental energy in the quarrel with Diana. His eyes had lost focus… wait, focus?
“Hey! Elliot!”
“H-Huh? Oh… uh, Camon. W-What?”
With completely unfocused eyes, he looked at me like his soul had flown away. I shook my head and tapped his cheek.
“Hey, hey. Snap out of it. She’s gone. Hey, Elliot!”
“Y-Yeah. Right.”
Finally, as though he was regaining his senses, Elliot’s gaze came back into focus. He stared at me with a deeply thoughtful expression.
“Hey, Elliot. We haven’t even properly started excavating yet. Get your head straight.”
“You’re right. This is where the real beginning is.”
At my sharp and cold tone, Elliot barely managed to pull himself together, nodding firmly.
Seeing him like that, I couldn’t help but smirk to myself.
‘Feels kind of familiar.’
Elliot Fren in reality wasn’t just some useless, idiotic villain. He was simply too timid and weak-willed to be suitable as the head of Fren Trading Company, famed as the greatest on the continent.
Which is why he could never stand against Diana—cruel and merciless as she was—and ended up ruined miserably.
But somehow, his appearance gave me a strange sense of familiarity.
‘Kind of reminds me a bit of Bren…’
Just then—
“Master Elliot. The mercenaries and excavation crew you requested have all assembled. If you give the order, we can enter the ruins immediately.”
Elliot’s attendant reported this with a voice full of excitement.
Elliot too seemed filled with anticipation and was about to shout loudly—
“Good. Then let’s begin the excavati—”
“Hey, Elliot. Hold on a second.”
“Huh? Camon, what is it?”
I looked at him and asked plainly,
“How much money do you have on you right now?”
“…What?”
“How much are you carrying? I need to buy something before we go into the ruins.”
“H-How much do you need?”
Though Elliot Fren was an heir to the greatest trading company on the continent, and owner of immense wealth, he was extremely stingy when it came to spending.
More accurately, he avoided spending large sums. He was simply timid by nature.
Of course, that stinginess and timidity weren’t the only reasons he lost to Diana, but still—
‘Guess I’ll fix that. Time he learned how to actually spend money.’
With the broadest smile I could muster, I asked,
“How much can you support me with, heir of Fren Trading Company, Elliot Fren?”
“Take that too. Oh, and I’ll need that one over there as well.”
“Um, Sir Camon. Our hired excavation specialists already prepared a list of necessary supplies. It may be better to trust them…”
At the butler’s words, I rolled my eyes.
“Then why have those so-called specialists always been slower than Diana?”
“T-That’s… well…”
The butler was at a loss for words. I immediately called out,
“Elliot?”
“Shut up and pack everything he says. Do you think Camon is telling you to buy things for nothing? Useless fools!”
“B-But this is a potion that actually increases weight! Why would we…”
“Just buy it already!”
At Elliot’s firm shout, the attendants could no longer object and began buying up everything according to my instructions.
“That too. Oh, right—just buy the whole box of that one. And all of these as well!”
Not long after—
“Ugh, it’s all loaded.”
Looking at the ten wagons now filled to the brim, I grinned in satisfaction.
Next to me, Elliot whispered quietly to his butler,
“How much did that all cost?”
“We spent 230 gold coins. About 70 remain.”
Wow. Still seventy left?
As expected of the heir to the greatest merchant house on the continent. The amount of disposable funds he had was enormous.
“Hmm, not as much as I thought. I expected it to be worse.”
…What?
Not as much?
“Elliot.”
“Hm? Camon, do you need something else?”
When he looked back at me kindly, I crooked a finger at him.
“Give me five gold coins.”
“Five gold?”
He tilted his head in confusion, but before he could answer, his butler cut in sharply.
“Why do you need that money? If there is something you wish to purchase, please tell me instead, Sir Camon.”
Tsk. Not working, huh?
I had hoped to skim off a little pocket money, but…
Just then—
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Elliot scowled at his butler and spoke in a low, irritated voice.
“M-Master…”
“My friend needs five gold coins. Who are you to question what he’s using it for, huh?”
Snapping angrily, Elliot then laid a hand on my shoulder and grinned.
“Forget five, bring fifty gold coins!”
“B-But, Master…”
“Do you want your head chopped off?”
“…Right away!”
At Elliot’s firm command, the butler quickly produced a heavy pouch from his robes.
Clink.
After taking the pouch, Elliot handed it to me with a warm smile.
“Camon, if you ever need money, just tell me. I’ll always make sure you’re covered.”
“Uh… thanks.”
The pouch was heavier than expected, and I was taken aback.
‘Wait… five gold suddenly became fifty? What is this, money duplication? Is this what being filthy rich looks like?’
I had just wanted a little pocket change, but… well, thanks, Elliot!
“Alright, then let’s depart—”
“Hold on.”
I quickly stopped Elliot again as he was about to start the excavation.
“Huh? Now what?”
“We don’t have much time. If we keep delaying, the other side will steal the lead,” the butler said sharply, glaring at me.
Elliot, swayed by his words, looked a little uncertain as he turned back to me.
“Camon, what’s wrong? Is there a problem?”
“There’s something we need to take care of before the excavation.”
“Take care of?”
Looking puzzled, Elliot followed my gaze as I pointed toward his sulking butler.
“Yeah. We need to exterminate the rats first.”
“…What?”
Thud. Thud.
Crossing her legs on an ergonomically comfortable-looking sofa, Diana tapped the table with her foot repeatedly. A luxurious pipe dangled from her lips.
“Are you alright, my lady?”
Her butler, Clarke, instantly sensed her foul mood and asked carefully.
“Phew. What would be wrong?”
“…Nothing, my lady.”
Blowing out a stream of thick smoke, Diana glanced at him. Clarke prudently stepped back.
“You’re dull. Anyway, what’s the current status?”
“Proceeding as scheduled.”
“And Elliot’s side?”
“They apparently just began excavation.”
“Moving faster than I expected.”
She nodded slightly. Clarke, looking cautious, spoke again.
“My lady, perhaps we could dispatch our mercenaries to seize the entrance Lord Elliot discovered?”
“What?”
“Our hired mercenaries are stronger in combat, and Elliot’s men are likely preoccupied with the excavation…”
As Clarke cautiously laid out his plan, Diana’s lips curved faintly.
“So, you’re suggesting we stab them in the back?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Diana’s faction still hadn’t even found the ruins’ entrance. Meanwhile, Elliot already had and was excavating.
Even if she had more men and better resources, it was clear she would lose the race against time.
If she wanted to catch up, a drastic, ruthless move was needed.
Diana quietly studied Clarke, then chuckled.
“So? That’s what our people think. You still think it’s a good idea?”
Her sudden switch to formal speech puzzled Clarke. And then—
“Of course, if you desire it, so be it. The only thing that matters is the outcome.”
A calm, masculine voice rang out from the empty space. Clarke immediately stepped in front of Diana.
“Who’s there?!”
“Clarke, move.”
Clack.
Annoyed, Diana set down her pipe.
“Move aside already.”
“B-But, my lady—”
Trying to fulfill his duty, Clarke held firm. But Diana’s eyes sharpened.
“Loyalty is fine and all, but if you’re that stupid, I’ve no reason to keep you employed, Clarke.”
“…What?”
“Can’t you tell at a glance? That’s one of Father’s watchdogs.”
“Y-You mean the Master…?”
Shhh.
Before Clarke could finish, space in one corner of the office warped, shimmering like heat haze.
And then—
“I am not a watchdog, but a sentinel, my lady.”
A middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed goatee and a fine suit stepped forth.
“Whether you’re a watchdog or sentinel doesn’t matter to me. What matters is who ends up the final victor, right?”
“Well, I trust you know the answer to that better than I, my lady.”
To her question, the middle-aged man responded without the slightest change of expression.
