Chapter 19: Competition Isn't Fair (2)
Chapter 19: Competition Isn't Fair (2)
Translation: Godtl
The nobility of Britannia are generally competent.
What made Britannia the powerful nation it is today was its ruthlessly thorough meritocracy.
Those who try to flaunt their noble bloodline alone inevitably face public scorn.
Thus, the nobles of Britannia constantly hone themselves.
It would be far stranger if high society—composed of such nobles—operated on simple, childish logic alone.
Penelope Rosemore hadn't been ostracized from high society from the beginning.
When she first debuted in society, suitors lined up to dance with her.
Her mailbox was always overflowing with invitations, and everyone clamored to exchange even a single word with her.
But over time, Penelope failed to prove her worth.
The formula "Associating with Penelope means being devalued yourself" became engraved in high society.
Penelope's isolation wasn't that of an inadequate individual, but of a fallen brand.
The fact that even her own family had cast her out was decisive.
At that point, high society sought to expel her.
Perhaps none of them truly hated Penelope at heart.
Yet for the sake of maintaining their community's "prestige," Penelope had to disappear.
Any ordinary noblewoman would have quietly withdrawn from society.
Having fallen from grace, she would have known to discreetly vanish—this was high society's unwritten rule.
But Penelope refused.
Because she knew.
That stepping down from the stage now, without her family's support, meant she could never make a comeback.
That she'd spend her life as a useless doll gathering dust in a display case.
So she endured the criticism in silence while desperately struggling to find a path forward.
From society's perspective, this attitude may have seemed like defiance.
High society's "self-purification" against Penelope grew increasingly violent—enough to gradually break her spirit.
But now she could proudly say...
She was right not to give up!
"Here, take it."
"Thank you! I'll never forget this kindness!"
"Good, don't forget. And remember who granted you this favor."
"Of course! Please be sure to record it in the ledger!"
How amusingly similar they all acted.
Approaching cautiously, wary of being seen meeting with Penelope.
Then asking with half-doubt whether they could really obtain cola.
When Penelope showed them the cola, their attitudes flipped completely.
Groveling as if offering up their very livers and gallbladders.
Those same people who'd been whispering behind her back now begged and pleaded for a single bottle.
Witnessing this shallow, base human nature, Penelope realized:
"Power... is truly magnificent...!"
Jurgen and Penelope strictly controlled cola production.
Ensuring only a select few among the vanity-driven wealthy could obtain it.
Making cola the object of universal envy.
Now they no longer needed Bellaby's name—cola itself became the line dividing social prestige.
The crucial point was that Penelope was now "someone who could grant cola."
From the moment she could offer social advantage, Penelope transformed from a fallen brand to a usable resource.
Mocking and ignoring her outright was no longer beneficial.
Now some even openly approached her:
"Excuse me... Lady Penelope. Might I have a private word...?"
"Would you have time to spare?"
"Might you consider attending our tea party?"
Of course, Penelope knew better.
That cola's popularity didn't mean high society accepted or liked her.
That some still secretly laughed at her.
But one undeniable truth remained.
The vicious unwritten rule of Nortaris high society that had shackled Penelope for years—
"Talking to Penelope will cost you too"—had disappeared.
Penelope had erased the faded scarlet letter and successfully returned to society.
Not only that—she'd grasped considerable wealth in her hands.
Facing the table piled high with gold coins, Penelope called to Viche:
"Viche, could you store these coins for me?"
[Shiny shiny!]
"And I'll say it again—Jurgen mustn't know I'm nobility, understood?"
[Candy?]
"Yes yes, I'll give you candy for keeping the secret. Good girl. So clever."
After receiving the candy, Viche stored the sales proceeds meant for Jurgen inside her belly.
[Yum yum yum]
"You're kinda cute, you know?"
[Penelope! Like! Cute!]
"Oh my, is that flattery?"
At first, she had found Viche a bit creepy, but after spending time together recently, she'd grown quite fond of her. The way only a few tentacles peeked out from the bag reminded her of a hermit crab she'd kept as a child.
As Viche munched on the gold coins, Penelope fell into deep thought.
"It really feels like a dream..."
The social circles that had once shunned her had completely changed their tune.
She had even tasted the sweetness of wielding power.
With just 30% of the sales revenue, she had amassed enough to venture into new business opportunities.
For all this to happen in such a short time—
Had it not been for the cola, none of this would have been possible, even if she'd died and come back to life.
Of course, without Penelope, securing Bellaby's assistance would've been impossible, and selling to the nobility like this might not have worked either—but in the end, it was Jurgen who had brought the cola into the picture.
"Hey, Viche."
[Yeah?]
"What does Jurgen like?"
[Viche!]
Penelope decided it was time to express her gratitude in her own way.
Counting money until you fall asleep—
It must be every self-employed person's dream.
The cola bubble had grown so inflated that it was now being measured as "wealth."
On average, a single bottle traded for around 20 crowns.
Considering the production cost was roughly 4 pennies, the profit margin was about 99.98%.
Even extortion couldn't compare to this level of profit.
But then again, the economy thrives when the wealthy spend money.
The affluent who could afford cola at this price wouldn't go broke from spending like this, so she felt no particular pang of conscience.
"Going smoothly."
Since 70% of the profits flowed directly into Jurgen's hands, stacks of bonds exchanged at the bank were piling up.
Even faced with a sum that could turn an honest citizen into a robber, Jurgen remained unfazed.
The digits he had handled as the Minister of Internal Affairs were on a completely different scale.
Besides, accumulating wealth had never been his goal in the first place.
"With this much money, I can start setting up a factory and craft a few more Dice."
Jurgen was an alchemist capable of Material Creation, a skill said to reach the realm of the divine.
But that didn't mean he could perform Material Creation out of thin air.
Alchemy always required a catalyst.
Right now, between making cola and extorting cocaine from the cartel, he had exhausted all the Dice used for Material Creation.
Whether to survive this harsh world or to stabilize the cola business before moving on to other ventures—
He wouldn't feel at ease until he had a few spare Dice tucked away.
"Well, it'll take some time, but it's not urgent, so there's no helping it."
—Slam
"I'm back."
[Daddy!]
Penelope, who now commuted to Jurgen's workshop instead of the shop.
At first, she had complained about the dust and mess, but these days, she moved in and out of the workshop quite naturally.
Viche sprang out from her side, hopping excitedly before clinging to Jurgen.
The sight of tentacles stretching from the gaps of the briefcase to coil around him looked utterly bizarre to an outsider.
"You've worked hard today. Lately, Miss Penelope seems busier than me."
"What can I say? I'm just that good. If you're really grateful, why not adjust my share?"
It was meant as a lighthearted joke.
"Let's do that. A fifty-fifty split sounds fair, doesn't it?"
"Why so serious? It was just a jo— Huh?"
"We'll apply it starting from today's sales."
Penelope blinked rapidly.
Lately, she had been realizing more and more that Jurgen was no ordinary man.
It had been his idea to transform the cola—which could've faded as a passing trend thanks to the Bellaby effect—into a political commodity.
Even after amassing enough wealth to live comfortably among the upper class for life, he had simply remarked, "Oh, that's a lot," without much concern.
He might have been born a commoner, but his caliber was extraordinary.
And now, here he was, offering to split his share so easily?
But one thing was certain—he had no grasp of how the world worked.
"Sigh, are you an idiot?"
"An idiot? Wasn't it Miss Penelope's resourcefulness that established such a high price point?"
"Even if that's true, you should be more ruthless about it."
"Why fuss over such things between partners? Without Miss Penelope's efforts, we wouldn't have come this far."
An unexpected reply came her way.
A sincere compliment—one she hadn't heard in years—pierced straight into the softest part of Penelope's heart, that insatiable monster craving recognition.
"..."
Penelope swiftly turned her head away, forcing down her fluster.
She had her dignity as a noble lady to uphold.
She wasn't some child who would openly beam at a single word of praise.
"...You must be getting cocky now that you've struck gold. Listen well. Shares aren't something you just toss around so carelessly."
"I'm not tossing them lightly. Consider it an investment in you, Miss Penelope. I believe you're worth that much."
"...!"
Penelope's eyes widened sharply.
He didn't even know she had persuaded Bellaby.
He likely had no idea she was leveraging her noble connections to sell cola in high society.
Yet, he acknowledged her ability and was willing to pay the proper price for it.
"Honestly, even if I give you advice..."
It was such a naive, almost foolish, lack of caution.
But Penelope didn't dislike that harmlessness about him.
She had even hesitated, awkwardly debating whether to thank him.
But seeing Jurgen now made all those calculating thoughts seem stupid.
Penelope took a deep breath for about fifteen seconds before turning back around.
"You're interested in alchemy, aren't you?"
She had once seen his workshop, decorated almost like an alchemist's atelier.
She had assumed it was the remnants of an unfulfilled dream and felt a pang of sympathy.
That assumption turned to certainty when she saw Jurgen's reaction.
"Huh? Wh-what are you talking about? I have no interest in alchemy. Really."
This was the first time she'd seen Jurgen so flustered.
She had struck a nerve.
"You might think now that you have money, you could learn alchemy. But it'd be tough."
"Which is why I said I'm not interested!"
Even a 2nd-Rank Alchemist was treated as a professional.
That alone showed how difficult it was to learn, and the teachings were passed down exclusively within certain circles.
Even if Jurgen, a commoner, tried to learn, he'd just get swindled by some fraudulent alchemists.
So she had prepared something.
"Here, take it."
"What's this?"
"Introduction to Alchemy."
"Why are you giving me this...?"
Seeing Jurgen's dumbfounded, deeply moved expression made her feel oddly embarrassed.
It had been so long since she had given someone a gift out of pure goodwill.
The unfamiliar act made her throat itch, as if a feather were tickling it.
So Penelope deliberately sharpened her tone.
"Do you even know how incredible this book is? You know Han-bin, right?"
"N-no, I don't."
"An aspiring alchemist who doesn't know Han-bin? The greatest alchemist in Britannia, who reached the pinnacle of Material Creation?"
"...I-I know of him."
"This book was personally written by Han-bin Ainsworth."
"..."
"It's a monumental work that compiled all the fragmented foundational knowledge of alchemy into one volume."
"..."
It was also the book Penelope had pored over day and night, back when she still dreamed of becoming a great alchemist like her sister.
Not that she needed it anymore.
"And these... are my personal study notes from when I was younger."
Penelope pulled out five thick notebooks.
"You're not completely dull, so if you dedicate yourself for about ten years, you might reach 1st-Rank mastery."
"Thank you, Miss Penelope. Truly."
"If you get stuck, ask me properly. I am a 4th-Rank Alchemist, after all."
Penelope crossed her arms, puffing up with pride, while stealing glances at his reaction.
Jurgen seemed utterly at a loss on how to accept such a gift.
That ticklish feeling lingered, but Penelope couldn't help feeling a little proud.
The rose garden of the Rosemore Count's estate.
A woman in a beautiful dress sipped cola.
For the mediocre upper class, cola was a rarity too precious to casually drink...
But not for her.
Clarice had been assisting the family heir, her elder brother, in managing the household for the past five years.
With a single gesture from her, middling nobles could trade fortunes they wouldn't see in a lifetime.
"The young lady sent this as a gift. How do you find it?"
"Really? Have they grown closer again lately... Ugh—! Bleh!"
"What nonsense are you spouting?! I'm so sorry, my lady! I shouldn't have asked!"
The maid attending her hastily covered her companion's mouth, gauging Clarice's reaction.
"A gift, she says... How amusing."
Clarice's fingertips tapped lightly against the rim of her glass.
"I don't like it."
Her frigid gaze lingered over the dark surface of the wine.