Chapter 49
Peter, the butler, rushed out to the front steps and personally opened the carriage door. His face was so shocked it looked as if an earthquake had struck.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please, come quickly!”
Peter reached out and helped her down from the carriage with haste. At that moment, a foreboding sense swept over Monica.
“What happened?”
“Madam, the annex… please go to the annex. The Riat Merchant Guild, they…”
The butler stammered in confusion, unable to form his words properly. Monica frowned and asked again.
“We already told them to send goods in advance. Why are you making such a fuss over something like that?”
“No, madam. It’s not that. They sent so many goods that the vice guild leader, a man named Rowe, is waiting for you. He insisted that the items must be handed directly to you, so a whole line of wagons is waiting outside the annex.”
Monica immediately glanced back at the Countess of Pencil, who was standing behind her.
“Come with me. From now on, what I do will also concern you.”
The Countess of Pencil realized Monica’s words were no longer a lie. The tension that had stiffened her shoulders gradually began to loosen.
Half-dazed, the countess followed behind Monica.
By the time they reached the annex entrance, Monica was stunned at the sight before her.
What on earth is Princess Taylor thinking?
She had expected two or three wagons at most. But instead, nearly ten large freight wagons were lined up in formation outside the annex.
All Monica had asked for was enough glass jars to begin the business. But Taylor seemed to have sent every glass jar that existed in the entire empire.
Is she impulsive, or just incredibly bold?
With that thought, Monica stepped forward and entered the reception room.
“Duchess. It’s been a while.”
“What are those wagons doing in front of the annex?”
Flustered, Monica skipped the formal greeting and immediately questioned Rowe, who was waiting inside.
Rowe had risen to greet her, but his eyes shifted when he noticed Monica had not come alone—another woman was with her. He looked at the stranger intently.
Realizing her impatience, Monica quickly introduced the Countess.
“This is the Countess of Pencil, wife of Count Pencil, one of House Orsay’s vassals.”
Rowe politely bowed to the countess.
“I am Rowe, vice guild leader of the Riat Merchant Guild.”
After the brief greeting, he turned back to Monica.
“Did you bring her so she could join our discussion?”
“That’s right. Please, let’s sit.”
Once Monica spoke, both Rowe and the Countess took their seats on the sofa.
“Rowe, explain the line of wagons outside.”
“Ah, did it startle you? Our guild master has a rather generous nature. I heard that you asked for glass jars to use in bottling strawberry jam. So he prepared small jars, medium jars, and large jars—three kinds in total.”
An involuntary ah slipped out of Monica’s lips.
Taylor truly was a businesswoman. She was not simply humoring Monica but was approaching the matter with clear vision and detail.
Rowe’s voice continued.
“Since you agreed to entrust distribution to us, we thought it best to begin with small jars of jam and then gradually expand to the other sizes. That’s why we prepared everything in advance, so please don’t feel pressured. And…”
He placed a document on the table.
“This is the contract, stating that distribution rights will be transferred to the Riat Guild. The guild master was so pleased with the product that he proposed a 70–30 split. Seventy percent to the Duchesses of Orsay, thirty to the guild.”
It was a remarkably favorable offer. Rowe had never seen such terms before. Yet he voiced no objection.
His eyes already gleamed with full understanding.
This was not merely business—it was a step toward raising the women of House Orsay as a rising force, and ultimately paving the way for Taylor to ascend as emperor.
“For now, I’ll leave the contract here. Please have the goods moved into the annex’s kitchen and storage. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Monica didn’t sign immediately. She had only just finished talks with the Countess and needed time to consider.
Rowe, sensing her intent, nodded slightly and rose from his seat.
“Then we’ll move the goods as you wish and take our leave. Please contact us soon.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“We look forward to working with you.”
“Yes, yes.”
Rowe bowed to Monica, then to the Countess, who awkwardly returned the gesture.
Now only the two women remained in the reception room.
The Countess blinked her large eyes, glancing between Monica and the contract on the table.
So many shocking events in quick succession left her so dazed that she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake.
“Countess Pencil?”
“Yes.”
Snapped back to her senses by Monica’s voice, the countess stammered a reply.
“I told you, I wasn’t saying those things to torment you.”
“…You were right. It was true.”
Though she had doubted Monica’s words, her curiosity about this “strawberry jam” had been too great.
Now she asked again.
“What will you do now?”
“What do you mean? You agreed to help me.”
Monica shrugged lightly.
“…What?”
“Please. For all of us, summon a bit of courage. If I step forward alone, no one will believe me—just like you didn’t at first.”
“That… that’s…”
As the Countess faltered, Monica pressed on.
“If I had defended you at the tea party, do you think it would’ve changed anything? No, you would’ve thought I was a capricious woman. It’s the same here—no matter how good my proposal is, if it comes from me, they won’t believe it.”
The Countess slowly closed her eyes, then admitted honestly:
“You’re right. If you hadn’t asked me for strawberries and sugar, and if I hadn’t seen you speak with the Riat Guild myself, I wouldn’t have believed you. So tell me what you want me to do.”
Monica smiled gently.
“I’d like you to use your abilities. Take the lead in persuading the other ladies to join us. We’ll split profits equally once they come in.”
“But it would be strange for me alone to claim I arranged all this.”
“Don’t worry. By now, Liam and your husband should be finishing their conversation.”
“My husband… with the Duke?”
“Yes. Just say you and Count Pencil planned this together. That way it’ll go smoothly. And gradually introduce me to trustworthy ladies.”
“Are you sure it’s alright?”
Monica nodded lightly and rose from her seat.
“Shall we go to the kitchen now? I want to show you how to make strawberry jam.”
The Countess stood immediately and moved closer. Her eyes had changed.
At the tea party, she had looked like a dead woman with hollow eyes. Now, they sparkled with a vibrant light.
“Are you sure today’s task isn’t dangerous?”
It was already the fifth time Liam asked Monica the same question.
The butler had twice come by to remind them that the retainers were waiting for the imperial event, yet Liam still refused to let Monica go.
“If you stall the match long enough, it won’t be dangerous. Besides, Lady Gonzales will be there too, so don’t worry.”
“Can that young lady be trusted?”
“Her Highness the Princess sent her personally. I’ve spoken with her several times—she’s sharp and quick-witted. Really, stop worrying. Even if my death wouldn’t end the world but only bring hellish repetition, you’re overprotective.”
“Su-jung.”
“What?”
“Don’t you write in Korean anymore?”
“If I do, the letters appear on your body. That’s why I’ve been careful.”
“Then at least carry a notebook and pen today. If something happens, you can write so I can come find you.”
“If it eases your mind, I’ll do that. But it’s really not that dangerous.”
“You never know.”
“Sit down, Liam. I’ll explain.”
When he sat on the sofa, Monica leaned close beside him.
“Listen carefully.”
She raised her hand and whispered, revealing her plans for during the match.
Even though they were alone in the room, she lowered her voice, her breath warm against his ear.
“See? Now you understand. So stop worrying.”
Liam’s heart thumped, his chest tickling. Surely, she didn’t see him as a man.
Otherwise, how could she so casually grope him while checking for letters, or lean so close that her lips almost brushed his while whispering?
His dark eyes drifted to her hair. He lifted a hand and gently untied her ribbon.
“Hm?”
Her pink locks cascaded down. He took her hand and began retying the ribbon.
“Remember? How a woman ties a ribbon on a man’s sword before he goes to war?”
“Yes.”
“Well, today you go to war. So I must tie it for you. Saving the world is all well and good, but if you’re in danger, I’ll only curse myself for failing to protect you.”
“Even if I am endangered, it won’t be your fault.”
