MLWR 38

Chapter : 38

“…Wow! You’re so beautiful, Lady Marianne.”

After a brief period of persuasion and discussion, Marianne finally decided to hire Lana and Fabian.

It was because of a fact that Lana had hesitated over for a very long time before revealing.

“How could I just let go of friends who have no home and sleep outside when the weather’s good…?”

The aftermath of the scam they had suffered was far more severe than she had expected.

Looking back now, she realized that she shouldn’t have sent the loan shark’s henchmen away so gently.

Determined that she would capture them one day and take bloody revenge, Marianne called out to Lana, who kept expressing admiration.

“Lana. Thank you for the compliment. And I think you can stop brushing my hair now.”

“Ah, yes! Yes! It’s just so soft… I’ll braid it right away. Then, shall I fix it with one of these hairpins?”

“Yes. Please do.”

Since the effect of the magical potion had worn off, Lana had regarded Marianne as an angel descended from the heavens.

On top of that, her gentle and soft personality meant she never asked questions even when Marianne didn’t explain things. She seemed to trust that their mistress must have had a valid reason for changing her appearance.

“Hehe, okay!”

Lana smiled broadly as she busily worked with her hands. Marianne watched with fascination as the hairstyle gradually took shape with Lana’s skillful fingers.

“Wouldn’t it have been better to be a hairdresser than picking fruit to sell?”

Lana’s dexterity was remarkable. Considering she handled carriages well, she must have had a good reputation as a maid too.

If only there weren’t unsavory rumors about her borrowing black money, many households would have wanted to hire her.

“All done, Lady Marianne!”

“Thank you. I love it.”

Marianne sincerely praised Lana. The braid, reflected in a hand mirror, looked neat and elegant—perfect for the occasion she was about to attend.

“I didn’t expect the head of Trope Mercantile to meet me personally.”

Wearing a dress hastily bought from a boutique, Marianne instinctively wanted to ask for a coat but bit her lower lip.

Being in the southern region, even in winter, there was no need for an outer garment during the day. That fact hit her more than she expected.

“Let’s go, Lana.”

She shook her collar lightly for no reason and turned. Lana, who had been following in quick steps, hesitated, then slowed slightly and asked cautiously.

“Yes! But… may I accompany you, Lady Marianne? I wonder if Lord Trope might be displeased…”

It seemed she was worried because he was a noble. Among nobles, there were plenty of despicable ones who would disregard commoners.

Lana and Fabian must have wanted to work for Marianne so desperately because she was different from those nobles.

Marianne toyed with her ring and smiled faintly.

“Don’t worry, Lana. Lord Trope is probably broad-minded. And if he drinks the tea you’ve prepared, even a narrow mind will feel as wide as the ocean.”

It was not widely known outside, but according to the original story, Lord Trope’s mother was a commoner. That’s why he had given up the fight to inherit early and opened the mercantile business.

The chances of such a person being overly aristocratic were very low.

“…Ah, deciding to serve Lady Marianne as my lifelong mistress will be the best decision I’ve ever made! Let’s go quickly!”

Lana, quickly regaining her energy, opened the door with sparkling eyes.

They boarded the carriage pulled by Fabian, who had been waiting, and it didn’t take long to reach Trope Mercantile. As it was the main office—or perhaps thanks to the help of Count Trope—the building was a large, three-story stone structure used solely by the mercantile.

“Welcome to Trope Mercantile headquarters. How may we assist you today?”

A middle-aged employee, chatting with a colleague at the entrance, walked over to Marianne with a smile.

Despite looking close to middle-aged, he spoke politely and respectfully, instantly recognizing that Marianne was a noble. Marianne inwardly admired his sharp eye.

“I am Marietta Luno, Viscountess. I have an appointment with Lord Trope.”

Marianne presented her identification, and the employee checked a clipboard he held. It seemed they kept a record of expected visitors.

“Yes. Viscountess Marietta Luno… confirmed. I will take you to the reception room immediately.”

The employee guided Marianne and Lana with a professional smile.

The reception room was as well-decorated as the main hall. Sunlight poured in, and every detail, from wallpaper to carpet, seemed meticulously chosen.

Lord Trope was already standing, reading documents in the sunlight, even though their scheduled meeting time hadn’t arrived.

“Lord Trope, your guest has arrived. Tea will be served shortly.”

Lord Trope stood immediately upon hearing the announcement.

A man with dark gray hair and eyes, he had a calm, gentle appearance—more like a scholar than a merchant.

“Pleased to meet you, Viscountess Marietta Luno. You keep your appointments very well.”

“Haha. Time is money, but trust is priceless. I am Abelard Trope, managing this mercantile to the best of my abilities.”

After a brief greeting, Marianne sat across from Abelard Trope.

In noble society, discussing business before tea was considered rude, but Marianne judged that Abelard was not such a rigid aristocrat.

Leaning lightly against the chair, she began.

“Let’s get straight to the point. I want to invest in Trope Mercantile.”

Abelard paused briefly as he organized the documents on the table.

He straightened his posture and replied with a gentle smile.

“…You are not a southern noble, are you? May I ask your reason, if it’s not too much trouble?”

He spoke politely but with subtle caution.

Indeed, if a noble suddenly sent a suspicious letter and claimed to want to invest in the mercantile, it would be strange not to be cautious—especially if the noble’s name was previously unheard of.

Marianne sipped the tea brought by an employee and nodded.

“It’s simple. I came south for recuperation, but the sea in the Trope domain is so beautiful that I intend to settle here. So, naturally, I want to make a good impression on Lord Trope, the heir of the estate.”

“Hmm. I see.”

Though his reaction was lukewarm, Marianne was not hurried.

After living with the gentle and naïve Lana and Fabian, meeting someone who was astute, business-minded, and calculative felt oddly refreshing, bringing her a sense of reality.

She leisurely swallowed her tea and continued.

“I also have the obligation to pay salaries to my loyal servants, so I want to invest in the mercantile and receive a portion of the monthly income.”

“From your explanation, it seems you intend to invest not in gold but in other ways. Am I correct?”

Marianne looked calmly at Abelard, who already knew but was reiterating the point, and nodded.

“Yes. Trope Mercantile already has sufficient capital. Instead, I want to provide information. As I mentioned in my letter, if you consider dealing with a noble in the capital, I must emphasize that you should not.”

“…Putting aside how you know this, may I ask your reason?”

Marianne cleared her throat, considering how much to reveal.

Revealing too much might make him doubt her identity, but being too vague would not earn the trust he valued.

After organizing her thoughts, she refreshed her throat with tea and explained.

“The noble you intend to deal with is highly likely to be an Imperial supporter.”

“……”

At such times, silence usually meant agreement. Of course, when she later allied with Louis, it was an obvious conclusion. Count Trope, while based in the south, was known to be aligned with the Emperor’s faction.

“According to the records, he was not on bad terms with the count and must have been educated to pledge loyalty to the Emperor from a young age.”

Thus, he had likely built a foundation in the Trope domain before seeking opportunities to expand into the capital—though the expansion only happened three years later.

There was only one highly probable reason Marianne could speculate.

“A rebellion will occur soon in the capital. I cannot say exactly who, but he is a noble long disguised as an Imperial supporter.”

Of course, the rebellion would fail, the Emperor would be enraged, and Imperial nobles would face severe pressure and investigation.

That was why, in the original story, Cedric was left in nominal seclusion during his childhood after Marianne’s death.

“The Emperor was too busy and ill to extend his hand to the north. In the end, power mattered more than his daughter.”

This left the north relatively free from imperial oversight but cut off even the minimal support, causing original Cedric to suffer greatly.

Marianne smiled wryly and continued.

“All Imperial supporters will draw His Majesty’s suspicion. If you conduct business with them now, Lord Trope would also face great difficulties from the investigators sent by the Emperor.”

It was unknown what choice Abelard Trope made in the original story.

But if he trusted Marianne and she provided him with crucial information to avoid danger, then even if he did not help Louis, it would still be beneficial for both her and Cedric’s future.

Marianne reached for a cookie served with the tea and stated confidently.

“If my words are doubtful, you can call your staff sent to the capital and gather information. I guarantee you will be grateful to me for at least the next five years.”

She leisurely bit into the cookie.

The crisp texture was delightful. The subtle sweetness paired well with the slightly bitter tea, and Marianne broke the cookie into pieces, savoring it slowly.

She wanted to give Abelard plenty of time to think.

After finishing the cookie, Marianne cleared her mouth with tea. When she set down her cup, Abelard slightly raised his head to meet her gaze.

“…Understood. I will contact you again later.”

“Lord Trope seems wise, so I trust he won’t keep us waiting too long. I hope this will become a good partnership.”

Marianne smiled warmly. Abelard returned her smile gently.

Neither realized that this partnership would last far longer than either anticipated.