A Venture of One's Own
Franche bit her lower lip and lowered her head. Eden tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, his voice dripping with cold impatience. "Did you actually comprehend a single word I said?"
"...Yes."
"Then I suggest you make your decision quickly."
Come to think of it, she hadn't even looked at the list of marriage prospects yet. Not that she had any desire to. Did that document even still exist?
"Where did you put the list I handed you last time?"
"It is in the drawer beside the bed."
"Bring it here."
Franche rose from her seat and approached the bedside. Her eyes locked with ours—Kazar and I were still huddled together, desperately clinging to each other in our hiding spot. For a fleeting second, her face contorted in sheer disbelief, but she swiftly smoothed her features back into a mask of aristocratic indifference.
"Here it is."
"Review the list and make your decision. Right here, right now."
"I have not yet had the opportunity to verify who these individuals are."
"I believe I gave you more than enough time."
Eden narrowed his eyes, his gaze boring into Franche. He was clearly losing patience, demanding an immediate answer.
"Look over it now. I personally selected candidates from reputable families, so none of them will compromise the prestige of the Descartes Ducal house."
His voice was freezing, his tone razor-sharp. I absolutely loathed it. Even if noble marriages were almost entirely political arrangements driven by power and influence, one still had to verify what kind of person the prospective spouse was. What if Franche married some lunatic who abused her or subjected her to unspeakable horrors? These people wouldn't spare her a single thought. They were rotten to the core. That was precisely why they had orchestrated and ignored every ounce of suffering Franche had endured up to this point.
"Why the silence? Review the list at once."
"Very well..."
Franche reluctantly unfurled the parchment. "...Every single one of these men possesses an atrocious reputation in high society."
"Does high society's gossip concern us? What matters is what their families possess."
Listen to this absolute bastard...
"Franche Decartes. Do not forget your place. Regardless of their reputations, every man on that list is far too good for you."
Were those truly words meant for one's own sister? If Franche were illegitimate or adopted, perhaps such treatment could be expected from certain cruel people. She wouldn't be a true member of the family. But Franche was a highborn lady who carried the pure, unadulterated blood of the Descartes family. I still couldn't fathom why they harbored such deep-seated hatred for her. Just because her mother died during childbirth? Was that really enough to justify this level of malice? It made absolutely no sense. Perhaps there was some other hidden reason that neither Franche nor I knew about.
Franche forced her mouth open, her voice tight. "Young Duke. Allow me to make myself perfectly clear. I have no intention of choosing a spouse from this list."
Eden scowled. "And why is that? Have you not spent your entire life wishing to escape the Descartes estate? Besides, consider your age. You are no longer a child to be coddled as a young lady."
Eden's words held a grain of truth. Even though she had been denied a formal coming-of-age ceremony, Franche was legally an adult. She was no longer a mere *young lady* of Descartes, but Lady Descartes. In the modern world, twenty was young, but this was a completely different realm—a world akin to the pages of history. At twenty, she was well past the age when a noblewoman should have had her marriage settled. Franche hesitated for a long moment before finally voicing her stance.
"There is something I wish to pursue."
"Something you wish to pursue?"
"Indeed."
"I am fairly certain you could pursue whatever that is after leaving this house."
Franche bit her lower lip so hard it nearly bled. "It is an endeavor that can only be realized while I remain within the Descartes family."
"An endeavor that can only be realized here? And what, pray tell, is that?"
"I am afraid I cannot disclose that to you."
Eden let out a sharp, mocking scoff. "How amusing. Are you not simply spinning excuses because you refuse to marry, or perhaps because you find the men on my list beneath you?"
His tongue was laced with pure venom. I wanted nothing more than to leap out of hiding and deliver a full-swing slap right across his smug face. Eden Descartes stood up and strode toward the door.
"In any case, make your decision swiftly. My patience is not infinite. If you have not chosen within a week, I will proceed with the betrothal myself. Consider yourself warned."
Thud. The door slammed shut. Only then did Kazar and I finally crawl out from under the bed.
"Ugh, I thought I was going to suffocate to death in there."
"Is that really your biggest concern right now? A literal tempest just swept through the room."
"Well, we can worry about that later."
I quietly stepped closer to Franche. Her hands were trembling violently. Her lower lip was slightly split, bleeding from where she had bitten down to suppress her rage. Her emerald eyes glistened, brimming with unshed tears. Every raw, painful emotion she was trying so hard to hide was laid bare on her face.
"Jin..."
Even without her speaking, I knew exactly what she wanted to say—what she wanted to ask of me.
"I will go and slaughter every single man on that list."
Kazar let out a sharp gasp, slapping her hands over her mouth.
"A-Are you out of your mind?! What will you do if the Empire launches an investigation?!"
"Nothing is impossible for a Sword Master."
"That doesn't make it okay! How can you just assassinate an entire list of nobles? There have to be at least ten of them on there!"
Ignoring Kazar's frantic protests, I kept my eyes on Franche. "What is your command, my lady? Eliminating them all is a perfectly viable solution."
"...Do not speak of such absurdities."
Franche pressed a hand to her forehead, staring down at the parchment for a long, agonizing moment. "I have no other choice."
"A choice regarding what, my lady?"
"I must request an audience with the Duke."
The legs of her chair scraped against the floor as Franche stood up. "I shall speak with him alone. Wait here for my return."
Franche stood before the heavy doors of the Duke's study. A suffocating blend of anxiety and dread sent a violent tremor through her hands. She clamped her left hand over her right, trying desperately to steady herself.
"Whew..."
If I kneel and bow my head to the floor, Father will listen. I will beg him for just one chance. A single opportunity to prove my worth. Steeling her resolve, Franche knocked on the door.
"Your Grace, it is Franche Decartes."
"Come in."
*Click.* The double doors of the study parted. The only sound in the vast, silent room was the rhythmic *scratch, scratch* of a fountain pen. The Duke sat in perfect composure, methodically reviewing his documents.
"What brings you here?"
"I have an urgent request to make of you."
*Clack.* The scratching of the fountain pen abruptly ceased.
"A request?"
"Yes."
"Speak."
*Thud.* True to her plan, Franche dropped to her knees. Her kneecaps struck the hard marble floor with a dull crack, but she ignored the sharp pain and spoke.
"...Why are you kneeling? What sort of request warrants such a display?"
"The Young Duke is attempting to force a marriage upon me. I have no desire to wed at this time."
"What nonsense is this, Franche? It was not long ago that you knelt and begged me to arrange a marriage for you."
"I have found a purpose I wish to pursue. If I am wed now, my freedom will be stripped away, and I will lose any opportunity to prove my capabilities."
At the mention of *capabilities*, the Duke's brow twitched with mild interest.
"Stand up and take a seat on the sofa first. You will ruin your knees."
Franche rose unsteadily to her feet.
"Now, what is this endeavor you wish to pursue?"
"A business venture."
"...A business?" Duke Decartes' brow furrowed deeply.
"You have never been taught a single thing about commerce, yet you wish to run a business?"
"It is not a massive enterprise. I intend to start small and expand gradually."
In truth, Franche knew next to nothing about running a business. I hadn't given her a detailed explanation yet. She was merely improvising based on the few scraps of information she had gathered from me.
"A small business... and that is what you wish to dedicate yourself to?"
"Yes."
"And that is your reason for rejecting the marriage prospects?"
"It is."
The Duke hummed thoughtfully, stroking his chin.
"I must admit, wanting to start a business is quite unexpected. I assumed you were merely throwing a tantrum over your broken engagement with the Young Duke of Persia. It seems I have treated you too much like a child."
Franche pressed her lips together, waiting in agonizing suspense for his permission. She was fully prepared to drop back to her knees and press her forehead against the cold floor again if he showed even a hint of refusal.
"Very well. Go ahead and try. If you possess the confidence to prove your worth through tangible results, it is only fair that I grant you the opportunity."
The permission came surprisingly easily. Only then did the frantic, deafening pounding in Franche's chest begin to quiet down.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"However, you understand that if you fail, you will have no other options left to you?"
"Of course."
"You may leave. I shall handle the matter regarding your marriage prospects. See to it that you submit a business proposal to me later."
"Thank you."
Just as Franche rose and turned to open the door, the Duke spoke up again. "Ah, one more thing."
"Are you no longer going to call me 'Father'?"
Franche's brow twitched violently. What on earth was this man playing at? A man who had never spared a single glance toward his daughter, who had utterly abandoned his paternal duties while she was subjected to horrific abuse, was now asking why she didn't call him 'Father'? The sheer, unadulterated hypocrisy of it made her stomach churn with nausea.
Whenever she had wanted something in this house, she had been forced to crawl to this very study, endure the cruel mockery and torment of Line and Eden, and beg on her knees with her forehead pressed to the floor. Even to secure a meager allowance, she had been forced to slam her head against the ground until her skin split and blood dripped onto the carpet. That was the only weapon Franche possessed in this household. It was the absolute best she could do to survive.
A lifetime of choked-back resentment surged up her throat, threatening to erupt in a torrent of pure, unbridled fury. Clenching her fists, Franche fought with every fiber of her being to maintain her composure.
"...I have nothing to say on that matter. Excuse me."
The Duke merely watched her in silence as she turned her back on him and walked out. Not a single spark of life remained in Franche's hollow eyes.
I sat at the table, waiting anxiously for Franche's return. My leg bounced up and down in a nervous, restless rhythm. *Could she really handle this on her own without me?* Kazar spoke up, breaking my train of thought.
"Why are you so incredibly anxious?"
"I'm worried about whether the Lady can handle this without me by her side."
"Oh, please. The Lady isn't a toddler. You're worrying over nothing."
*That's because you don't know her like I do.* Until very recently, she was a girl who wouldn't utter a single word of protest even when the lowliest servants tormented her. But explaining that to Kazar would be pointless; given her pragmatic nature, she wouldn't understand. I decided to keep my mouth shut. Just then, the door clicked open and Franche walked in. I sprang up from my seat and rushed toward her.
"How did it go, my lady?"
A faint, weary smile touched Franche's lips. "I succeeded in postponing the marriage."
She actually did it. What a relief. I had been sick with worry, but she had handled it beautifully.
"However, there is a condition."
"A condition?"
"You mentioned starting a business last time, did you not?"
"Don't tell me... you used the business as leverage?"
"Indeed."
*Hmm. So she bought herself time by promising to start a business.* Well, it didn't matter. We were planning to launch an enterprise anyway.
"So, will you finally enlighten me as to what this business plan actually is?"
"As I mentioned before, it will be an apparel business."
"Yes, but the apparel industry in this Empire is notoriously difficult to break into. There are already established, prestigious boutiques that hold an absolute monopoly over high society."
*I suppose a lady who used to squander fortunes on dresses and luxury goods would know the market well.*
"That won't be an issue. I know of a master artisan whose overwhelming talent is more than enough to crush every single one of those established boutiques."
Franche tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "A master artisan? Does such a person truly exist?"
"He is a hidden gem, completely unknown to the world."
Back when I played the game, there was a specific sub-quest. Having cleared it myself, I knew exactly where he was, what he was doing, and every detail of his circumstances. The quest was titled *'The Unfortunate Genius of Boundless Talent'*. The objective was to rescue a once-in-a-century genius from the shackles of brutal exploitation and allow his talent to truly blossom. The quest rewards allowed players to choose between an exquisite dress or a tailored suit; both boasted such stunning designs and incredible stats that they were wildly popular among the player base.
I turned back to Franche. "You said you secured permission to start the business, correct?"
"Yes. I have my own personal funds coming in, so capital won't be an issue, and my freedom of movement will be restored."
"Then let us prepare to depart."
"To find this artisan?"
I flashed her a confident grin. "Yes. He is the key to making our business an absolute, guaranteed success."
Just then, Kazar raised her hand tentatively. "Um, excuse me. What exactly am I supposed to do?"
Ah, right. I had almost forgotten about her. "Since you're already dragged into this, you're coming with us. You are officially a founding member of the France Corporation."
"France Corporation...?"
"What on earth is that cheap-sounding name, and why is my name attached to it?"
*...Hey, what's wrong with France Corporation? It sounds great.*
"Ahem. In any case, let's get ready. We have a lot of work ahead of us."