Chapter 16: What Is Marketing? (4)
Chapter 16: What Is Marketing? (4)
Translation: Godtl
Penelope had been bustling about these past few days.
The top floor of the Litchfield Hotel was being renovated into a luxurious suite to welcome Bellaby.
Penelope personally oversaw the entire process.
"I never expected the young lady to take charge like this."
"Don't thank me, old man Ritz. I'm just doing my part. How's the VIP's reaction?"
"Lady Bellaby seemed quite satisfied. You have a good eye for detail."
Surprisingly adept at handling the tasks, Penelope listened to Ritz's flattery while harboring her own plans.
She wasn't doing this out of any particular attachment to the hotel.
After all, this hotel might as well already belong to her sister Clarice.
The more she contributed to elevating the Litchfield Hotel's prestige, the higher the chances Clarice would take over its management.
Her sister didn't trust her.
Clarice was already assisting their brother, the heir, in managing the family business.
Meanwhile, Penelope was the troublemaker who had been expelled from the same university and whose every venture since had ended in failure.
The difference between them was stark to anyone who looked.
There had been times when sticky feelings of inferiority and inadequacy, along with the cold indifference she faced, had festered inside her.
But contrary to what she had told Ritz, Penelope didn't truly hate Clarice.
She couldn't.
Prioritizing the family's future over familial affection—that was simply the burden her sister carried.
With their father unable to manage the family due to prolonged illness, Clarice had only made the best choices for the Rosemores.
At any rate.
The real reason Penelope was running around the hotel was, ultimately, the cola.
The last of Bellaby's requests:
—Every evening after dinner, an ice bucket filled to the brim with six bottles of cola must be prepared.
In that single sentence, Penelope glimpsed infinite possibilities.
She held a 30% stake in the cola venture.
She had helped refine the recipe and provided a substantial investment when Jurgen was struggling with funds.
Though the amount might seem small, it was an achievement she had carved out on her own, without relying on the family.
If, as Jurgen had promised, the cola business sparked a culinary revolution with its impact—
If Penelope could establish a proper enterprise through it—
Wouldn't her sister finally acknowledge her then?
Wouldn't she regain her standing in the family and restore their once-close relationship?
That hope simmered quietly within her.
But first, she had to seize this opportunity with both hands.
She was so serious about it that she even set aside her pride.
Roll, roll, roll.
"Ugh, this is heavier than it looks."
Dragging a tray behind her, Penelope personally delivered the cola Bellaby had requested.
Normally, she would have had servants handle it, but she planned to meet Bellaby in person and ask for her help in promoting the cola.
"May I come in?"
When the door opened, Bellaby stood with her back turned.
The moment she glanced over her shoulder, Penelope couldn't help but hold her breath.
The elegance of Britannia's greatest actress seemed impossible to capture even in black-and-white film.
Against the backdrop of the lavishly redecorated suite, her blue-tinged raven hair and cool glass-like eyes stood out.
Even if Penelope wasn't socially inferior by any measure, she still felt overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the woman.
"Penelope Rosemore. It's an honor to meet you."
"Bellaby Blanville. The pleasure is mine, and thank you for your hospitality."
Each holding the hem of their skirts, they exchanged a slight bow.
"..."
"..."
Penelope wasn't much of a talker.
Her naturally unsociable disposition had twisted further after enduring endless mockery and scorn.
Bellaby, too, didn't seem keen on forging an active friendship, leaving an awkward silence between them.
"..."
What do I do in this situation?
Should she offer money in exchange for promoting the cola?
No. That might just offend her pride.
An actress of Bellaby's caliber would surely have strict legal contracts regarding product endorsements. It'd be better to win her favor and approach her on a personal level...
"Excuse me, is that the cola?"
"Ah, yes. It is."
"What an intriguing bottle. It's quite elegant."
"You've heard of cola before?"
"Only through rumors. I've been curious about it."
Fortunately, Bellaby's eyes sparkled with interest as she spotted the cola, and the conversation flowed smoothly.
To make matters even better, she seemed genuinely intrigued by the cola.
Penelope, her face brightening, awkwardly recommended the cola like a novice salesperson.
"Would you like to try a glass?"
"Yes, please. I was just curious about it."
The cola, chilled to an almost brain-freezing crispness, was poured into a crystal glass.
Bellaby tilted the glass elegantly, like a bird moistening its beak with dew.
"Huh?"
Her eyes soon widened in surprise.
"Good heavens..."
"It's amazing, isn't it?"
Penelope, who had been timidly raising her eyebrows to gauge her reaction, allowed herself a small smile.
She felt a sense of kinship.
The first taste of cola was nothing short of revolutionary.
Even if Bellaby's cooperation remained uncertain, the taste of cola was guaranteed.
Wasn't this the same devilish drink that had ensnared Penelope herself, leaving her utterly bewitched?
"How mysterious. The sweetness glides smoothly like velvet, and this effervescent fizz feels almost like..."
"Like stars bursting on your tongue, right?"
"Yes! That's the perfect way to describe it."
"Shall I pour you another glass?"
"Oh, yes, please."
Bellaby, who had maintained nothing but a businesslike demeanor until now, matched Penelope's enthusiasm and drained the rest of her cola.
At this rate...
There might actually be a chance!
Penelope cleared her throat lightly and prepared to continue her sales pitch.
"It stands shoulder-to-shoulder with any beverage in Britannia. It's a drink I developed with my business partner, you see. So, actually..."
But then she froze mid-sentence.
The dreamy, blissful expression on Bellaby's face had shifted abruptly.
She was now staring intently at Penelope.
The smile at the corners of her lips dissipated like wisps of cotton clouds, replaced by a piercing gaze that seemed to bore straight through Penelope.
"Why are you looking at me like that...?"
Penelope was flustered.
Was this a silent warning to drop the obvious sales tactics before she made an unreasonable request?
Or had she committed some grave faux pas without realizing it?
"You said you developed this with your business partner?"
"Huh? Yes."
"Is your partner... a gentleman?"
"I wouldn't call him a gentleman, but he is a man... Is there a problem?"
The strange tension made Penelope answer awkwardly without thinking.
Penelope, after all, had no experience navigating the delicate tightrope of business negotiations.
The pressure of not failing this time made her body stiffen even more.
"Heh."
Bellaby, who had been observing the rigidly tense Penelope with an impassive expression, let out a low chuckle.
It was a bittersweet smile—almost self-deprecating—yet also detached, as if she had let go of some lingering attachment.
"You want me to promote the cola, don't you?"
"Huh? Y-yes. If it wouldn't trouble you, Lady Bellaby..."
"Alright. I'll do it."
"What?"
"I said I'll do it. I'll promote the cola."
Penelope had barely managed to stammer out a "Huh? Y-yes," yet the answer came swiftly and decisively.
"Please tell your business partner... I'm grateful he made such a wonderful drink."
"Well, that's not too hard to pass along..."
The rest of the conversation wrapped up smoothly.
Bellaby had agreed to promote the cola without demanding anything in return.
After exchanging pleasantries and stepping out of the room, Penelope still couldn't quite grasp what had just happened until the very last moment.
Was it the actress's nature that made her demeanor shift so abruptly? She couldn't understand it.
Nor could she fathom why Bellaby had stared at her so intensely—almost with hostility—only to grant her request without hesitation.
"Was it really that delicious?"
She was bewildered, but in any case, things had turned out incredibly well.
"Jurgen's going to be shocked."
When he eventually realized Penelope's true identity and learned of her spectacular success today, he'd surely be grateful, right?
Penelope's steps grew inexplicably lighter.
The air was thick with the mingled scents of grand chandeliers and an array of perfumes.
Waiters carried silver trays of drinks, their movements precise, while the glitter of ornate jewelry sparkled under the light.
The ballroom of the Litchfield Hotel, freshly renovated for the charity event, was brimming with a dreamlike radiance.
It was as if it perfectly embodied the commoner's yearning and admiration for high society.
When films and novels sought to depict the opulent lives of the upper class, they didn't choose ballrooms for no reason.
But there was an ironic twist to it all.
The truth was, among the nobility, those who genuinely enjoyed social gatherings could be counted on one hand.
Because this place is, at its core, a battlefield.
A stage where one's family prestige, personal dignity, and abilities are perpetually called into question.
A dance on the edge of a blade—where even the slightest misstep in etiquette or manners immediately drags you into scandal.
Amidst the covert bargains and schemes, you must prove, no matter what, that "I am better than you"...
...But today, the atmosphere was different.
"When do you think Lady Bellaby will arrive?"
"To see the Jewel of Britannia in person... I could die without regrets after this."
"I heard she rarely attends such events..."
"That just means she holds Nortaris in special regard!"
The reason was simple: those who would normally bicker—"My suit is more luxurious," "Your dress looks like your grandmother wove it herself"—had silently agreed to an unspoken ceasefire.
When you think about it, the power struggles at social gatherings exist solely to prove who stands above the rest.
But who could possibly outshine Bellaby?
"The most radiant jewel of Britannia—Lady Bellaby Blanville makes her entrance!"
After a long wait, Bellaby finally appeared, announced by the attendant's booming voice.
"Wow, it really is Bellaby Blanville."
"How is it possible for someone's head to be that small?"
"But she's got all her features—eyes, nose, and mouth!"
Her presence alone declared her the undisputed protagonist of this stage.
Clad in a lavender-blue silk dress, Bellaby captivated every gaze the moment she stepped in.
"...Will you go talk to her?"
"Ahem, I think the oysters I ate earlier weren't fresh..."
"Didn't you say you'd ask Lady Bellaby for a dance?"
"Hey, come on—when did I ever say that?"
Despite the anticipation, no one dared to approach her.
To understand why, one had to grasp the unwritten rules of high society.
Rumors painted Bellaby as an untouchable flower.
She rarely appeared at formal events, and even when she did, she politely declined all forms of communication.
No one wanted to be the first to approach her, only to be rejected and then mocked with cheerful greetings like, "Ohoho, hello there! So-and-so, who got clingy with Bellaby and got burned!"
So instead, they blinked rapidly, exchanging glances, waiting for someone else to make the first move.
To Bellaby, this scene was nothing new.
After all, those very rumors were part of the image she had carefully cultivated.
Though now a celebrated actress, her commoner origins meant her footing was always precarious.
Had she grown drunk on fame and wielded it carelessly, the slightest misstep could have toppled everything she'd built.
She had a dream.
She didn't want to lose the career she'd worked so hard for.
Every step she took was weighed with deliberation and caution.
Even the connection she cherished with one person—she kept it at arm's length, stealing only occasional glances.
Bellaby thought of Penelope.
Her business partner—or rather, the pretty young lady who had made cola with Han-bin.
A fleeting fantasy crossed her mind: Had she let go of her dreams just a little, perhaps she could have been in that position instead.
What a naive game of "what if."
Yet it was Bellaby herself who had chosen to forsake that possibility and chase her dreams.
Under the weight of countless gazes, Bellaby made her way to the cocktail bar at the edge of the ballroom.
"Lady Bellaby must be going for a drink."
"That Bellaby?"
Another of Bellaby's nicknames was "The Teetotaler Bird."
For reasons unknown, she was famous for never touching food, alcohol, or even beverages at social gatherings.
So when she headed for the cocktail bar, murmurs spread like wildfire.
"What will she drink?"
"Surely the finest wine?"
"Maybe Nortaris' famous frozen strawberry liquor?"
When he had contacted her out of the blue after years, asking for the absurd favor of promoting cola—
And when he had earnestly pleaded with her to keep Han-bin's identity a secret—
She had been furious.
And when she realized Penelope was involved with that cola, she even felt a twinge of jealousy.
To think he'd dare ask this of me, of all people.
How utterly oblivious can one man be?
Wasn't it almost impressive?
But what could she do?
A promise was a promise.
Regrets and lingering attachments remained, but a severed connection was just that—a connection that had run its course.
Well, since things had come to this, she might as well prepare a grand farewell gift—one foolish enough to leave him with regrets.
Go ahead and wallow in regret later to your heart's content.
With the practiced grace of an actress, Bellaby spoke softly to the bartender.
"One cola. Crushed ice, with a slice of lime. Please."
He would soon witness it.
Why Bellaby Blanville was called the most radiant jewel.