Chapter 18: Competition Isn't Fair (1)
Chapter 18: Competition Isn't Fair (1)
Translation: Godtl
If human relationships were likened to chemical reactions,
The pitch-black night would be the catalyst that accelerates those reactions.
For instance, a man and woman who fancy each other would exchange sweet whispers of love, while an unguarded passerby meeting a robber would engage in a cordial financial transaction.
And when the head of the Devbun Trust Bank and a city council senator meet under moonlight, they exchange lobbying favors.
This is common sense.
"Councilor, I hear the city council has been handling some interesting proposals lately. Word has it you're discussing port expansion as a public works project."
"Nortaris is developing too. Haven't port cargo volumes increased by 50% over five years? The current facilities can hardly handle it. But the problem is..."
"The allocation of expansion sites, I presume."
"Hoho, you're sharp. That's why I like you."
"It's not like we've only known each other for a year or two, is it?"
"True. I'm always grateful to you. That aside, do you plan to talk business all day? Let's have another drink."
The senator before him was a veteran politician with forty years in office.
A thoroughly cunning old fox whose influence carried weight even in the senate.
He must have anticipated what favor would be asked from the moment this private meeting was arranged.
"Lately, whenever people see me, they come looking for ports—I might as well change my name to 'Port'! It's utterly exhausting! Ahahaha!"
Thus, the senator's roundabout manner was nothing unusual.
It was the political equivalent of saying, 'I have plenty of friends besides you—what can you offer me?'
"Because you devote yourself day and night to Nortaris's welfare. Perhaps this modest support might compensate for your efforts."
The bank manager pulled out a hefty bag and placed it on the table.
Inside the opened bag gleamed crisp bundles of bearer bonds and neatly stacked gold coins secured with bands.
"Oh my, what's this between us?"
"A clean gift prepared by our brightest associates. You could use it as political funds without any issues."
"More generous than usual, I see?"
"I've included five times the usual amount. All we ask is for you to exert your influence to have our bank's land designated as the official development zone."
"Hmm..."
Yet the toad-like senator only smacked his lips, hesitating to accept the bag outright.
And understandably so.
Real estate development was a gold mine where blind money gushed forth at the first shovel strike.
Countless merchants, corporations, and nobles were undoubtedly engaged in fierce lobbying battles beneath the surface.
"You don't seem entirely satisfied."
"It's not that..."
To secure the influential senator's support, a more decisive 'one-shot' was needed.
The manager smiled knowingly and produced another bag.
"Then how about adding this to the offer?"
"Oh? Oh! Ooh... Ooooh!!!"
A document case lined with crimson silk.
And beyond that, something carefully wrapped in white cloth...
"I-Isn't this cola? Six bottles of this precious stuff?"
"Heh heh, it was hard to come by. See the production date on the caps? This isn't some dusty stock buried in a warehouse. Fresh cola, delivered straight from yesterday's production line."
For someone at the senator's level, money rots away until they can smell the corrosion of gold coins.
The bribe that moves such a person's heart must be 'something even money can't easily buy.'
"There's also a thirty-bottle crate in the trunk. Feel free to take it all."
"Ah! Ahaha! Our manager here is truly grand! My daughter's been pestering me endlessly about this cola! Thanks to you, my authority's about to skyrocket! Let's toast! A toast!"
"To securing Devbun Trust Bank's land—!"
"Cheers!"
In the world of powerful figures where bribes and lobbying run rampant,
Cola had emerged as the most coveted 'gift.'
But cola's popularity wasn't limited to solicitations and political circles.
A month had passed since Bellaby's departure.
Spring had come even to the frigid city of Nortaris.
Though outsiders would balk at venturing outside in such persistent, bitter cold...
"Ohohoho!"
"Ahahaha!"
"Hohoho!"
For the noble young ladies of Nortaris, brimming with northern spirit, it was perfect weather for an outdoor tea party.
The young ladies, each dressed in their finest gowns, covered their mouths as they burst into laughter over some unknown amusement, exchanging lighthearted chatter.
"Ohohoh, everyone, did you know Father gifted me a bag this time?"
"Oh my! Isn't that the BRUNNEN Hoverbag No.8?"
"Wow, that elegant crescent silhouette! I heard it's made from hippocampus leather? How enviable..."
But make no mistake.
Just as social gatherings are battlefields for nobility, this small tea party was its own minor warfront.
If you thought this conversation was merely about showing off, then your understanding of "nobility" remains lacking.
Upon closer inspection, their eyes were clearly saying:
'Damn it! I was going to bring that first!'
'I had my eye on that from the catalog too! If I bring one now, it'll look like I'm openly challenging her!'
'I despise you!!! I wanted my Senator father to get me one too!!!'
Though it might seem childish at first glance, this too was part of politics.
Power ultimately stems from the intangible byproduct of human chemistry—
It begins with others' "recognition."
The young lady from House Ashford who'd just showcased the Brunnen hoverbag had acquired it faster than anyone else.
This proved her family's power, connections, and wealth—further demonstrating the Marquess's "investment" in his daughter.
In other words, she was flaunting that she possessed worth deserving such treatment.
'But... this isn't over yet.'
'I get that you want to show off, but a Brunnen hoverbag alone isn't enough. After all, it's just something anyone can buy with money if they wait.'
'Hmph, I heard House Ashford's mining ventures have been failing lately—seems it's true.'
The other young ladies launched their counterattack.
"It's truly lovely, but... doesn't it feel just the tiniest bit lacking to anyone else?"
"Exactly. It's a Brunnen product, so the design is exquisite, but doesn't it still feel somewhat empty? Lady Ashford, don't you feel the same?"
"It would be so much prettier with some Cola."
They were boldly displaying their own "weapons."
Cola bottles tilted elegantly against their bags.
Cola perched atop hats like ornaments.
And even Cola bottles themselves, decorated with gemstones as accessories.
Their message was clear:
'Well? How about this?'
'Fashion isn't complete without Cola.'
Under their challenging gazes, Lady Ashford snorted dismissively.
"Oh dear, how forgetful of me. Ohohoh! Maid?"
She summoned a maid to bring Cola and began completing her "fashion statement."
One bottle, two bottles, three bottles of Cola were tilted against her hoverbag.
The Brunnen hoverbag, coveted even by capital nobility, was now reduced to a mere Cola stand.
"My, three bottles do feel rather heavy."
"Th-Three bottles of Cola... Truly befitting House Ashford."
"I-It's amazing. The hoverbag looks complete now."
A truly overwhelming demonstration of her family's "class."
"Three bottles are too heavy after all—shall I just drink one?"
"Wha—? You'd... drink the Cola...?"
"What do you mean? Cola is meant to be drunk, isn't it?"
"I-I'm fine, thank you. I'm full. Hahaha."
Everyone averted their eyes from Lady Ashford's confident suggestion of victory.
'Am I insane? Gulping down something this expensive?'
'Who knows when we'll get more!'
'I borrowed this from my sister!'
The winner of today's tea party had been decided.
Not only had Lady Ashford brought three Cola bottles, she was now glugging one down.
Under that murderous noble pressure, everyone lowered their tails.
Instead, they began searching for an easier target.
'You're just perfect.'
'Let's go after her.'
Serena Lenoir, who'd been shrinking into her shoulders and watching nervously, became their mark.
"Miss Serena Lenoir."
"Y-Yes?!"
"Now that I think of it, didn't you say you'd obtain some Cola too, Miss Serena? Were you successful this time?"
"Well, you see..."
At a glance, the timid Serena Lenoir was the weakest link at this gathering.
Unlike the others from long-established noble houses, the Lenoir family were first-generation nobles of engineer origin.
That's why she's addressed as 'Miss Serena.'
If she gets trampled by Lady Ashford and that's the end of it, she won't be able to save face—so she tries to prop herself up by pushing the vulnerable Serena down instead.
"I did... bring it, but..."
"My! If you brought it, show us!"
"You said you managed to get some last time!"
Under the urging of those around her, Serena desperately shoved the cola bottle deeper into her bag.
It was something her mother had packed for her, telling her not to lose heart.
But unlike the other young ladies who had brought brand-new bottles, hers was already opened and more than half empty.
If she took it out now, she'd only become the butt of everyone's ridicule.
"I'm sorry! I forgot I had horseback riding lessons today!"
Serena fled the tea party as if running for her life.
'She doesn't even have cola?'
'The Lenoir family are first-generation baronets, aren't they? Fifty years ago, they wouldn't have even dreamed of sitting at gatherings like this. Tsk.'
'How shameless, trying to mingle without knowing her place. Pathetic.'
She could practically feel those scornful words stabbing into her back.
"Sniff... Hic... Sob..."
Serena wept.
She cried from the humiliation. She cried from the frustration.
It wasn't as if the Lenoir family lacked money.
But at this point, cola wasn't something you could obtain just by having wealth.
It didn't even appear at auctions—only a minuscule quantity circulated through personal connections.
Unfortunately, the Lenoir family's influence wasn't enough to get their hands on any.
"No, there is a way..."
If the rumors Serena had heard were true...
She could do it.
She could get cola.
But this method was akin to selling her soul to the devil.
At worst, it could spiral into a horrific scandal that would end Serena Lenoir's social life for good.
"Father... Mother..."
Serena recalled the tea party from moments ago.
The humiliating moment that had felt like swallowing mud.
The lingering, bitter taste of disgrace that still coated her mouth even now.
She would pay them back.
Even if she had to endure being torn apart by their pointing fingers, she wouldn't back down like this.
A venomous glint swirled in Serena's eyes.
Her footsteps had already turned toward the source of the rumors.
"If my memory serves..."
According to the rumors, there was someone who manufactured and distributed this cola.
Unbelievably, the person in question was none other than the owner of the Litchfield Hotel—Penelope Rosemore, mockingly referred to as the 'Useless Flower.'
Even now, it remained a mystery how the daughter of the prestigious Rosemore Count Family, whose status even the Ashford Marquisate deferred to, had become the target of such ridicule.
But regardless of that enigma, high society was cruel by nature.
Anyone who associated with the thoroughly isolated Penelope would be treated as her equal—"Huh? Isn't she on the same level as Penelope?"—and ostracized alongside her.
"E-Excuse me..."
Clutching her pounding heart, Serena pushed open the office door.
Within the deliberately dimly lit space,
Bathed in sunlight streaming through the mosaic window like a halo,
Sat a woman.
A vibrant red dress that stamped her presence, as if declaring she wouldn't be cowed by the mockery that followed her everywhere.
Golden hair as bright and dazzling as flowing honey.
Arrogant, fierce—yet beautiful crimson eyes.
Too beautiful to be a devil, too dangerous to be an angel...
'Ah, this person is...'
The Mother of Cola.
The black sheep of the Rosemore family.
The one who, if you associated with her, would make you the official outcast of high society.
"Rosemore Penelope..."
"So, you've come looking for me?"
At the dry, emotionless voice reminiscent of a withered rose, Serena snapped back to her senses.
Flustered, she removed her hat and dropped to her knees.
"I-I heard... if I make a deal with you, I can get cola."
"And?"
"..."
She was terrified.
Serena's words caught in her throat.
The plea—"Give me cola"—wouldn't leave her mouth.
Because she was afraid that if she entangled herself with this woman, she'd be buried in high society forever.
And at the same time, she knew she lacked the confidence to stand tall like Penelope if she ended up in that position.
She'd probably wither away and die from the shame.
But then she asked herself—
Wasn't groveling under their scornful gazes and passing on the humiliation just as miserable?
Wasn't that wretchedness already a kind of death?
Right.
This was no time to cower in fear.
"I don't need friends! I don't care if I become an outcast like you! Just give me cola! I'll pay any price!"
Like Faust selling his soul to the devil, Serena Lenoir screamed.
"W-what the—?! I have friends, you know?!"
Penelope bellowed in outrage.