The Count let out a hollow sigh.
He had half-hoped—like something out of a novel—that some young genius with an exceptional grasp of finance would appear out of nowhere with a poof and miraculously revive the family. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.
Of course. There was no way a miracle would grace a ruined count’s household.
It seemed that Theon’s early visit was for this second young lady’s sake. Most likely, the child had insisted on seeing the banquet hall ahead of time out of curiosity.
“My son is upstairs… Would you like to play with him, my lady?”
The Countess asked the girl, hiding her disappointment with effort.
If the family were to be thrown into the streets someday, it would at least be better if her son were on friendly terms with a noble lady—that was the sad calculation behind her words.
But the girl shook her head firmly and spoke.
“We didn’t come to play, madam. We came to help the Count’s family.”
She spoke in a clear, precise tone, typical of a child. Despite their disappointment, a faint smile appeared on the Count and Countess’s faces.
“My lady, our Oscar is good at many games. Why don’t you try suggesting he play merchant with you?”
“No, not Oscar—I mean the Count.”
The girl shook her head again, as if frustrated.
The Count and Countess turned to Theon with puzzled expressions. To their surprise, Theon nodded seriously.
“Theon, what is her ladyship talking about…?”
“Just as you heard. We came to help the Count’s family.”
Theon said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“…What?”
At his signal, the young girl rummaged through her dress pocket and proudly took something out.
“…What is this?”
The Count and Countess looked both confused and curious.
The girl gently placed a bottle filled with a transparent liquid on the table and smiled. Then, in her cheerful voice, she began explaining its effects.
As they listened, the Count and Countess’s faces slowly lit up with a faint glimmer of hope.
✦ ✦ ✦
Guests began to gather at the Count of Rostian’s residence one by one.
Most of them were distinguished nobles or well-known merchants.
From the moment they stepped into the banquet hall, they grouped up based on their industries and began chatting.
Many of the guests curiously glanced around the banquet hall.
“I think they held a similar banquet last year… but something feels different. It’s not as glamorous.”
One merchant muttered, and several around him nodded in agreement.
“Isn’t it obvious? The Rostian family’s finances have worsened to an incomparable degree since last year.”
“Even worse than last year? I remember they were already in serious trouble then…”
A young viscount known for his business savvy chimed in.
“What was the previous Count thinking, handing over the title? The current Count is a good man, but business isn’t exactly his forte…”
As his words trailed off, the first merchant lowered her voice behind her fan.
“You didn’t know? Rumor has it the previous Count was addicted to the hallucinogen Asetran.”
“No way!”
“Is that true?!”
“I’ve heard that too. Specifically…”
Another noblewoman picked up the thread. The crowd’s attention shifted to her.
“They say the family’s finances collapsed, and the title was passed down early because of that addiction.”
“If that’s true, then the Count of Rostian is as good as finished.”
The young viscount shook his head with a tone of pity, though his eyes gleamed with gossip-hungry amusement.
“Exactly. Our merchant guild lent them money expecting the previous Count’s performance—but we’ve never gotten it back. Investing in the Rostian family now is like throwing money into a pit.”
“Unless the old Count somehow recovers from his addiction and returns to lead the business…”
“Impossible. No one’s ever recovered from Asetran addiction.”
The guests all chimed in with their opinions.
Some counted the reduced number of attendants, while others estimated how much it would cost to buy the Count’s mansion, soon to be auctioned.
“Ahem!”
Just then, a cough echoed from near the grand spiral staircase at the center of the hall.
Heads turned in unison.
Standing there were Count Gabriel Rostian and his wife, just descending from the second floor.
Their faces were strangely flushed—not from despair over failed business, but rather from excitement.
“We are deeply grateful to all of you for returning to the house of Rostian.”
The Count bowed respectfully.
A few guests clapped politely with sympathetic expressions. Others wore amused, mocking smiles.
“I’ve managed our family’s business in my father’s place these past few years, as he’s been in poor health.”
The Count continued, ignoring the skeptical stares.
“But now, it’s time for me to step down from business and focus on managing the estate.”
His words caused a stir among the guests.
“So it’s official—they’re quitting the business.”
“Good news for us competitors. Not that they were a threat anymore anyway.”
“I suppose the estate in the capital is useless now. Maybe I should make an offer to buy it…”
“Ahem!”
Another cough from the Count silenced the rude whispers.
He swallowed hard and spoke again.
“Everyone, allow me to introduce the person who will now take over the Rostian family business.”
The guests’ eyes widened.
Someone to continue the business? Not someone to oversee bankruptcy?
With a faint smile, the Count gestured dramatically toward the staircase and raised his voice.
“My father, the former Count Yustice Rostian.”
At that, a middle-aged man with a straight-backed gait descended the stairs and stood beside the Count.
Though he leaned slightly on a cane, he barely needed it.
The crowd froze as if they’d seen a ghost.
Thinner than he’d been three years ago, yet his complexion was healthy. The man standing before them was unmistakably Yustice Rostian—the revolutionary of the silk industry.
“Wh-what’s going on here?”
“This is impossible! My servant said they saw him at a gambling den…”
“Could they have dragged him out here just to secure new investments?”
“No, look at him—no one that far gone on Asetran could look like that. Even his walk is steady!”
“Then… it was all just rumors?”
The murmurs grew louder. The former Count looked out at them, overwhelmed, then struck the floor with his cane.
Bang.
All eyes turned to him.
The charisma of Yustice Rostian—the man who once controlled a vast empire of commerce—was still intact.
“You’ve been discussing the rumors, I see.”
He began calmly. A faint smile softened the face usually known for its sternness.
The merchant who had first spread the rumor stepped forward awkwardly.
“It’s been a while, sir. I must confess… there were many disgraceful rumors about you. But now I see—they were all false.”
She studied his face as she spoke, still unable to believe what she was seeing.
“No, all the rumors are true.”
The former Count shook his head slightly.
“I was, indeed, addicted to Asetran. I brought this family to the brink of ruin.”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh my!”
“What?!”
“What do you mean?”
Gasps erupted across the room.
“Until this very morning, I was deep in addiction. I couldn’t walk or think clearly. My hands would reflexively shuffle invisible cards, as if I were still gambling.”
He paused to breathe deeply, voice trembling with disbelief.
“But today, a noble guest gave me an antidote to Asetran. Though I didn’t believe it, I had nothing left to lose, so I took it. And the result is what you see.”
He pulled a small bottle from his belt. It held only a single drop of clear liquid.
“This bottle contained the antidote I took. A cure I’d never heard of before—one that erased years of addiction in mere moments.”
Each word rang through the silent hall. Jaws dropped.
“Wh-what are you saying?”
“An antidote for Asetran? Instantly effective? That’s absurd!”
“If something like that existed, why has no one ever heard of it?”
Step.
The former Count scanned the crowd. He stepped forward, his eyes—still sharp with the clarity of his youth—shining slightly with tears.
Step. Step.
He fixed his gaze on someone and continued walking. At last, he stopped.
There stood a small blonde girl, barely visible among the guests.
Whip—Clatter.
Suddenly, he threw down his cane. Before anyone could react, he dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Lady Luperne.”
His voice was even more emotional than before.
“Tell me—what is that medicine made of, the one that saved me?”
The girl—Harper Luperne—blinked, hesitating. The former Count continued.
“There are many like me in those gambling dens. People who were tricked into taking that poison, who abandoned their families and lost their lives. If this could help them too… I would sell even my entire estate to obtain it.”
Onlookers’ faces were filled with shock and disbelief…
