YHBMF CH 02

Chapter 2

The two visitors just stared at me, dumbfounded.

Yep, I thought. They’re exactly the type of loan sharks I used to see back in Korea.

When you imagine debt collectors, what comes to mind? Tattoos, cigarettes, cheap shirts, and that cocky swagger—“Hey, you borrowed money, so pay it back on time.”
That’s exactly the type. It works on most people because fear makes them pay.

But me? That doesn’t work anymore.

I’d dealt with debt collectors for over ten years—at this point, we were practically family. I’d even called some of them “uncle” and shared bowls of black-bean noodles with them.

So even though these two were frowning at me, it didn’t bother me one bit. My nerves had been hardened and seasoned in the salt of poverty.

Ah, there they go again, putting on a show.

Judging from their stiff shoulders, they were probably rookies anyway.
If they were new at this, they’d pick a fight soon enough—

“‘A shabby place for shabby people’? For a noble, your manners are awful,” the woman snarled. “You borrowed money from these ‘shabby people,’ remember?”

Ha! Called it.

I smiled and shot right back.

“You’re right. I’m shabby too. We’re all just shabby people struggling to survive, so let’s at least keep some manners. Put your feet down.”

“Why should I?”

“Well, when my family goes bankrupt, that table will be sold off. Who’d buy a table covered in filth?”

She blinked—because it actually made sense—and reluctantly lowered her feet.

I sat across from them and said calmly,
“I’m Aileen Dante, new head of the Dante Marquisate. Looks like we’ve got plenty to discuss.”

***

Ken and Shark exchanged glances under the table.

Is she insane?
Seems like it…
Or maybe she’s terrified and pretending to be bold.
Yeah, that makes more sense—no noble lady would talk to us like this otherwise.

They signed to each other secretly. Normally, noble ladies turned pale and trembled just sitting across from them. But this one cracked jokes? Either reckless or crazy.

That won’t work on us, miss.

Shark pushed a stack of papers toward me.

“You’ve seen this before. Your father listed you as guarantor. So whether you inherited the title or not, you owe us fifty million gold—”

“Not introducing yourselves first?” I interrupted.

“What?”

“I introduced myself. It’s polite to do the same, isn’t it? Even a five-year-old says hello back when greeted.”

Tch. Shark clicked his tongue.

“I’m Shark. This guy’s Ken. We’re from the Moonlight Beauty Branch. We’re here to collect what’s owed. Happy now?”

“Nice to meet you, Shark. And you too, Ken. Let’s have some tea first, shall we?”

“We’re not here to —”

“Oh, come on. It’s our first meeting. Let’s toast to it.”

“To-toast? With tea?”

“Why not? There’s no law saying you can only toast with alcohol.”

I raised my teacup. Fortunately, they seemed to understand the gesture.

Just as I thought.

No matter what world this was, I figured it came from a Korean author. Of course the ‘cheers’ custom would exist here.

“We’ll be seeing each other a lot, right? Let’s toast.”

They awkwardly clinked their cups.

That tiny act meant more than they realized.

How nostalgic.

Both Shark and Ken had crossed the desert to reach this kingdom. In their homeland, clinking cups symbolized trust and peace. The gesture stirred something in them.

How does this noble know our customs? they wondered.

Their guard began to drop.

“Never thought I’d hear a noble ask for a toast,” Shark muttered. “That’s more of a mercenary thing.”

“Such a nice custom—why don’t nobles use it?” I said. “Anyway, does the host drink first here too?”

“Yeah. Should I?”

“No, I’m the host, so I’ll go first.”

Before they could answer, I downed the entire cup in one go. I drank tea like it was beer.

“Ahh! Why’s this so weak?”

“…That’s the third-use leaves, I think.”

“Ahem… sorry. We’re a bit broke. Have some more. Scar, pour them another cup — and bring some cookies. There’s gotta be something left in the cupboards.”

“Wait—you’re serving us?”

“You’re guests. It’s only polite to treat guests well, right?”

Their expressions grew complicated.

When was the last time anyone treated us politely?

They almost softened—but business was business.

Ken straightened up.

“Forget the snacks. If you’ve got money for cookies, you should pay us first. For all we know, your father hid treasure somewhere in this mansion.”

“Right. And don’t think this attitude will get you a discount. You’re an adult, aren’t you? You signed the contract; you know what that means.”

“Who said I’m running away?” I shot back, leaning forward. “I’m not here to beg or cry. If there really is treasure, I’ll find it. Just give me time to look.”

“Time? Why should we? We could just take the whole estate.”

“You can’t. I already checked.”

I pulled a ledger from my coat and laid it before them.

“I went through every record—what’s left of the estate, what’s inside the house. That damned fa— ahem, my father took everything and ran.”

Even ruined nobles usually had something to sell—land, or at least their title deeds.
But he’d run off with both.

That’s a headache for them, too.

Sure enough, Shark groaned.

“What a mess…”

“I have an idea,” I said. “You want your money back, right? Give me two years.”

“Two years? You really think you can earn enough in two years?”

“I’ve got all my limbs, all five senses working. I can labor if I have to.”

“Hah. You look too frail to lift a shovel.”

“If working’s what it takes to pay, I’ll work. You know as well as I do, rummaging through dusty antiques won’t get you half as much money.”

My eyes gleamed.

That confidence… Shark thought. Where have I seen eyes like that?

Then he remembered a merchant who died diving back into a swamp for one lost coin. A true miser’s eyes. It was a look he could trust when it came to money.

“We can’t wait that long. Not two years. One year. If you make a profit from this estate and repay within a year, we’ll wait.”

“One year? That’s tight… but fine. If I fail, sell me to the slave market or cut me open for parts, whatever you want.”

Then I added seriously, “Also—when I repay everything, can I hire you for a job?”

“A job? Well, once you’ve paid, sure. What kind of job?”

“I want you to kill the head of the Dante family.”

“Kill the Marquis…? Your father?”

“Of course. Who else? What kind of lunatic hires a hit on herself?”

“…We can, but…” Shark stared at me as if I were mad.

No matter how bad things got, no one usually ordered a hit on their own father.

When our conversation ended, the two left the estate in a daze. Halfway down the road, Shark suddenly screamed,

“Wait! We forgot to mention the interest!”

“Oh, crap!”

Too late.

“Why didn’t you say something?!”
“I was trying to set the mood!”

They gritted their teeth as they remembered me raising my cup for a toast.

***

It worked.

I clenched my fist in victory.

Carrot, stick, then negotiation—that’s the rule.

There’s only one way to handle loan sharks: prove you can actually pay them back. No amount of begging or crying works.

Alright, now I just have to actually repay it.

Running wasn’t an option anyway—they’d probably assigned someone to watch me already. If I tried to run, they’d cut my tendons first.

So I had to earn. Make a lot, pay it off, and take the estate for myself.

And then…

“If I repay everything, this whole estate is mine, right?”

“Yes, of course. That’s what the Marquis wrote in his letter.”

“Hehehe… So all this land will be mine… A landowner… a landowner…”

A greedy grin spread across my face.

All I have to do is repay it. Then everything here is mine!

I happily walked the two out of the mansion.

But then something strange happened.

As their shabby carriage rolled away, a luxurious one pulled up to the gate.

“Whose carriage is that?”

“Judging by the crest…” Scar looked uneasy.

“It seems to be from the House of Duke Asser—the richest family in the empire.”

“Then it’s none of our business.”

A duke’s family had no reason to care about our ruined marquisate. I was about to turn away when—

Screech.

The duke’s carriage stopped right in front of our crumbling gate.

A man stepped out—pale gold hair, clear blue eyes like a summer sky. Broad shoulders, tall, elegant. He looked like he’d stepped out of a painting—handsome enough to be the male lead of a romance novel.

“What the—? Is this guy a loan shark too? Did we borrow from the duke’s family as well?”

“No, my lady,” Scar murmured, face drooping like a student with unfinished homework.

“That’s Grand Duke Cartiman Asser, the young head of the ducal house.”

That wasn’t the important part. What mattered was—

“So did we borrow money from that handsome guy or not?”