Chapter 36
“Welcome! What brings you here?”
In truth, the clerk had been warned since the founding of this company to watch for the appearance of one very important guest.
That guest was none other than the Marchioness of Molton.
Some even whispered that this very “Twist Company” had been created with her in mind.
In any case, she could not be lost.
The clerk quickly erased every trace of weariness from his face and stepped forward to serve.
He must not speak as though he already knew her purpose.
He must not behave as though he knew her identity.
He had worked in customer service, moving from place to place, for over twenty years.
If this deal went smoothly, he had been promised a great fortune.
So great that he would never need to work again.
“Welcome indeed. Ours is the only shop open at this hour. What do you need?”
At his polite manner, the Marchioness of Molton stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“Could I borrow some money? Just a little.”
That she revealed her purpose so bluntly meant she was in quite a hurry.
The clerk immediately guided her to a table.
The wooden table and chairs were rotting and cracked in places.
Ordinarily, the Marchioness would never sit in such a seat, but as a gambling addict, she no longer cared.
Obediently sitting where he indicated, she waited.
Soon, the clerk returned with a pot of hot tea, a thick ledger, and a locked box.
“Here, have a cup first. It’s cold outside, isn’t it?”
The Marchioness of Molton accepted the chipped cup filled with bitter-scented tea and drank without protest.
Her nerves, sharp as shards of broken glass, loosened at once.
“How much do you need?”
“Not a lot right away. How much is possible?”
“That depends on what you can offer as collateral. Still, since you are a first-time customer, we’ll offer half our usual interest rate.”
“Half? How much do you normally charge?”
The clerk chuckled as he flipped through the ledger.
“Come now, do you think we could charge any more than others? About this much.”
He spread five fingers wide.
“Five per cent? If that’s the case…”
At her words, the clerk snorted and waved a hand.
“No, no. You must not know this business at all. Five percent is close to the Central Bank’s rate. If that’s what you want, then you should go there.”
“Then…?”
The clerk leaned in slightly and whispered into her ear.
She recoiled in shock and repeated his words.
“F-fifty percent?”
A sly smile touched his lips as he nodded.
“Exactly, Madam. But as I said, since it is your first time, we will do twenty-five percent. A one-time benefit, so make the most of it.”
“Why is it so outrageously high? Who would borrow money at fifty percent interest?”
At her outburst, the clerk replied in his leisurely tone.
“Because you and I have neither trust nor credit between us.”
“What…”
“Unless you show me your residence, reveal your identification, provide a guarantor, and offer collateral, there is no other way… Can you do that?”
“……”
Of course, the Marchioness of Molton could not reveal her identity.
If her husband learned of this, it would not end with divorce alone.
Yet she still could not stop gambling.
On the contrary, the more she lost, the more desperate she became to recover her losses.
“Well, what will it be? If you leave through that door, next time I can only offer fifty percent. It’s the policy of our company’s owner.”
Though she glared at his grinning face, the Marchioness of Molton did not rise at once.
***
After she left, the clerk quickly slipped into the storeroom and pulled out a mirror.
He tapped on the surface as though knocking, and the glass rippled.
A weary-faced man appeared within.
It was James, the butler of Duke Wentworth’s estate.
“What is it? I told you not to call me over trivial matters.”
“M-my lord Duke must be told at once.”
“It’s urgent, truly urgent! If you tell him a guest of honour came by, he’ll demand to be connected immediately!”
At the clerk’s frantic urging, James hesitated.
Which would bring harsher wrath—waking the Duke from his morning sleep, or delaying a message that might be critical?
“Hold on.”
He chose the former.
That would only earn him a scolding, but the latter might mean a beating or even dismissal.
Moments later, the mirror rippled again, and an unkempt Duke Wentworth, beard thick and wild, appeared.
“My lord Duke!”
“It was truly her?”
“Yes, yes. A middle-aged woman dressed as a maid. Her clothes were shabby, but her bearing and speech were unmistakably noble.”
“Heh. No doubt then. Did she take the bait?”
“She did, but she was more cautious than expected, so she did not bite too deeply.”
“How much did she take?”
“One hundred thousand gold.”
Not a small sum, though not as large as he had hoped.
One hundred thousand gold would cover a commoner’s yearly expenses, or buy two rather fine carriages.
Duke Wentworth frowned in disappointment.
“The collateral?”
“This.”
The clerk produced something glittering from his pocket.
A sapphire necklace inlaid with tiny diamonds.
“You got an appraisal, of course?”
“Of course. From Shanil’s jewellery house.”
“Hmm. Then it’s genuine. Still, it’s disappointing. All this for a single trinket.”
At the Duke’s click of his tongue, the clerk bowed deeply and soothed him.
“Such a person will not come just once. Wait and see. Next time she’ll bring something bigger.”
“Well… true enough. I ought to send someone to the arena she frequents.”
“Yes, I’ll look into it.”
“Good work, Stephan.”
The mirror cleared, leaving only Stephan’s reflection.
Seeing himself, he straightened his hair and beard with his hand.
Then he drew a small pocket watch from the drawer.
A rare item, it had been gifted to him by a recent client.
After checking his appearance once more, he opened the watch.
Tick, tick—the hands moved, then stopped.
With a far more respectful tone than before, Stephan spoke.
“Your Highness, Crown Prince, it is I, Stephan.”
***
Zeiss peeked through the slight gap of the half-open door.
“Heh, still like that?”
“Yes, ever since you stepped out briefly to speak with someone, she’s stayed right there.”
“It’s been about four hours, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, about that.”
Zeiss stepped back from the door and moved to stand a little further away.
He turned to the head butler and demanded an answer.
“Who gave permission for a midnight maze run? It’s only open in the daytime.”
“Well, that…”
“If Lady Amelia had truly been gravely injured or killed in there, Duke Wentworth would have seized the chance to attack us head-on. Do you realise how disastrous that would have been?”
Zeiss understood Duke Wentworth all too well.
As rival houses, he had little doubt that the Duke also knew plenty about the House of Royce.
“I am sorry, young master.”
Too quick a submission.
It made Zeiss frown.
“Head butler, I think you failed to answer me. Don’t tell me you opened it on your own authority? You know the maze garden requires permission from a direct Royce heir.”
“I know, of course I know. I’ve worked in this estate for thirty years.”
“Then why—”
From the far end of the corridor came the sharp sound of footsteps.
Turning, Zeiss saw Elena Royce approaching slowly.
“Brother, is Amelia the one lying there?”
“Yes, Elena.”
She pursed her lips, glancing at Zeiss.
“Heh, I gave her permission, brother.”
“What?”
“I said I gave her permission to open the maze garden.”
Zeiss stared at Elena in shock.
