Chapter 30: Clarice Rosemore (2)
Chapter 30: Clarice Rosemore (2)
Translation: Godtl
Night seeped into the parlor that had gone days without a caretaker's touch.
Beneath the bluish moonlight stretching like stage lights,
a woman sat gracefully upon the sofa, a handkerchief neatly laid beneath her.
Eyes like freshly cut roses shimmered with a crimson glow,
while her platinum hair, woven strand by strand as if spun from moonlight itself, exuded an air of nobility.
Beneath long lashes, her gaze rested with quiet composure, her elegant neckline poised like that of a princess from a classical painting.
Yet, despite the gathering of such beautiful elements, not a trace of feminine coquetry could be sensed.
Instead, a chilling, indifferent aura pressed down on Brighton's courage.
And for good reason.
From the very beginning, the icy young lady before him was not someone to be dismissed based on age or experience.
Clarice Rosemore.
The eldest daughter of the Rosemore Count Family.
The monster birthed by the Rosemore family.
At the age of ten, she had mastered the family's Unique Code, Full Bloom.
By twelve, she had entered the Alchemist College of the Royal University as the top candidate,
and by merely fourteen, she had achieved the rank of a 6th-Rank Alchemist before returning in glory.
Soon after, she took charge of the family's core business operations,
assisting her elder brother—the heir—in explosively expanding the family enterprise.
Now, years later,
the Rosemore family controlled a staggering 60% of Britannia's entire food distribution network.
If Clarice so desired, she could easily leave a border city to wither away in hunger and thirst without batting an eye.
Brighton gulped and bowed respectfully.
"It's been a long time, Lady Clarice."
"Your tea is abysmal. You should pay more attention to hospitality."
"Yes, I'll be sure to do so, my lady."
Though her words were far from warm, Brighton kept his smile intact.
Clarice set down her teacup indifferently.
"You seem to have something to say."
"That is correct, my lady."
"Speak."
There was a reason Brighton hadn't fled despite the dire circumstances.
Clarice was a devil's lamp—
the only one capable of silencing the whispers of high society,
of lifting Polar Suns from its halved stock price and rebuilding it into a top-tier enterprise.
Moreover, Brighton was certain of one thing:
There's still room for negotiation.
Indeed, even in this state, Clarice hadn't discarded him.
She had even come to meet him personally.
A sign that she still deemed him a useful hunting dog.
Brighton began his persuasion.
"Following your orders, I isolated Penelope from high society. For years, she wandered like a ghost, unable to exert any influence."
First, he emphasized his past usefulness.
"Penelope's temporary rise in power is entirely due to the cola. If we simply take it from her hands, everything will return to normal. The unintended backlash that reached Penelope was merely a misstep in the process. For that, I sincerely apologize."
Yet, he humbly acknowledged his failures.
"Though I cannot fully grasp the current political pressures weighing upon the Rosemore family, I dare say I understand their gravity. Even the slightest scandal would burden you, Lady Clarice. I will ensure no word of this leaks. Before the inheritance is settled, I will rectify this mistake without fail."
At the same time, he subtly demonstrated his familiarity with the family's internal affairs.
Surely, you wouldn't just dispose of a hunting dog of my caliber?
"If I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion... Perhaps it's time to change course entirely. You already know the most certain method, don't you?"
Clarice, who had been staring elsewhere as if uninterested in any excuse, finally met his gaze for the first time.
Her crimson eyes seemed to say, How dare a lowly creature like you presume to dictate the Rosemore family's course of action?
"If you grant me another chance... I won't repeat the same mistake."
But Clarice would know.
The surest way to secure the inheritance and prevent a succession dispute was to eliminate Penelope.
If she changed her mind and ordered 'Penelope's removal,' Brighton's failure could be brushed off as mere trial and error.
After an eternity of silence, Clarice finally spoke.
"You seem to be under a misconception."
"Pardon?"
"I carved out time from my busy schedule to come here... simply out of curiosity."
"About what...?"
"I wondered what could possibly make you bold enough to think you could lay hands on Rosemore blood and walk away unscathed. That's all."
At her whisper-like voice, Brighton felt the ground drop out from beneath him.
His legs went weak.
"Did you think handling the family's dirty laundry made you special? Whatever treatment Penelope receives in this family, whatever meaning she holds—none of that matters. What matters is that Rosemore blood flows through her veins too."
The negotiation had failed.
"Even if I were to dispose of Penelope, that would be Rosemore family business. Not something for an outsider like you—a mere mangy hunting dog—to meddle in."
Clarice had already concluded that Brighton had crossed the line before even arriving here.
This entire conversation was merely a postscript to her verdict.
"...Your words are most wise. However—"
Then it was time to play his final card.
"Milady Clarice won't be able to discard me so easily."
From what he'd observed, Clarice had no qualms about methods—she operated beyond conventional morality.
He'd foreseen this day might come if he continued working under her, and had prepared accordingly.
"There's a saying... everyone has shadows. It seems Milady Clarice is no exception."
"...That sounds like you've been investigating me."
"Please consider it proof of my competence."
Clarice remained expressionless.
Until Brighton uttered one word:
"Black Mage."
He couldn't begin to describe his shock when he'd discovered this.
That the Rosemore Count Family had some connection with Black Mages—enemies of the entire continent.
When he'd luckily obtained concrete evidence, he'd nearly cheered.
"I have no intention of confronting the Rosemore Count Family head-on. Grant me another chance, and I'll serve you with the same loyalty as before."
"And if I don't?"
"I've already secured the evidence and taken precautions. Along with my will."
The die was cast.
Now only Clarice's decision remained.
As Brighton bowed his head, a stifled chuckle made him quietly raise his eyes.
Clarice showed no sign of dismay, not even a stiffening of her expression.
Instead, she was smiling, revealing perfectly aligned teeth.
"You should have worked this hard from the beginning, Brighton."
He couldn't tell what kind of smile it was, but to Brighton, she looked like a viper baring its fangs.
"Bring it. That evidence."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"No, I wasn't talking to you."
Clarice gestured to the lawyer who had been standing like a screen beside her.
Without a moment's hesitation, the lawyer produced three paper envelopes from his coat and handed them to Clarice.
They were the 'evidence' Brighton had arranged to be released upon his death.
"Wh-what are you—?"
"You've worked hard all this time, but you should have known your limits, boss. You crossed too many lines."
"No, that's... Since when...?"
The lawyer stepped past the stammering Brighton to stand behind Clarice.
"This can't be..."
Why?
Just why?
This was someone who'd been with him since his days at rock bottom.
The one person he thought would never betray him, even if everyone else did...
Brighton's eyes widened as he stared at the lawyer.
Only then did he begin to notice other things.
The black hair tied in a ponytail was longer than he'd thought, the delicate line of the shoulders that didn't suit a man's suit.
The dissonance grated like a misaligned cog.
Like a gear that had finally snapped and sprung loose.
"You... were a woman...?"
"And what if I am? What's it to you?"
The confusion deepened.
Brighton desperately racked his brain.
The lawyer was definitely not a woman... Wait.
The name.
What was the lawyer's name?
How could he have spent decades together with someone without even remembering their name? No, more than that—how could he not have known their gender until now? It made no sense. But in his memories, the lawyer had clearly roamed the back alleys with Brighton as a child. So then, the person standing there was...
"Who the hell are you...?"
"At your service! The ever-loyal maid of Lady Clarice—Bell, at your command!"
As he watched Bell salute cheerfully with her left hand, the wall between truth and lies finally crumbled.
That bastard was no childhood friend.
She was a lawyer Brighton had hired a mere three months ago.
Yet Brighton had regarded her as an old friend and trusted confidant, as if it had always been "natural," without a shred of suspicion.
He had shared every piece of information with her, even entrusting her with his "final contingency."
Like a snail crawling onto a blade of grass, only to be devoured by parasites.
Cognitive alteration.
There was only one kind of magic capable of such a thing.
"Black magic...!"
"Bingo, boss."
The last thing Brighton saw in his life was the lawyer—no, Bell's merciless fist slamming into his nose.
"That was excessive."
"My apologies. I got a little carried away. This wretched pig made my life hell, you know? The audacity of this incompetent fool to treat the brilliant Bell like some idiot. Ptooey! Ptooey! Ptooey!"
Bell shook her hand, flicking off the blood with a refreshed expression.
Even with blood smeared on her cheek, she looked positively radiant.
"Ah, by the way, the young lady's really coming into her own now. A 5th-Rank with that mangled Mana Circuit of hers? What's the plan? Should I just quietly take care of—"
"Bell."
"Oopsie, my bad, my lady. Rosemore's business is Rosemore's alone... I know. I know very well."
Bell immediately tucked her tail between her legs and pouted sulkily.
Clarice fell into thought.
Penelope Rosemore, who had been unable to act against her will.
But recently, she had seized the opportunity presented by Cola, riding the momentum to make her grand return to high society.
Not only that, she had broken through the wall of the 4th Rank—a barrier she'd been stuck at for ages—and reached the 5th-Rank, even defeating the Undertaker.
All while thwarting Brighton's schemes behind the scenes.
"You said this Cola comes from a commoner named Jurgen, correct?"
"Yes, my lady. Shall I eliminate the commoner? Bell won't fail like Brighton did."
Truly, the blood of Rosemore never disappoints.
Just as a sword grows stronger through tempering, Penelope, too, had grown powerful.
Subjecting her to despair of the same level would only nourish her further.
"Leave him be for now."
"Hmm? Ah-ha! The higher they fly, the harder they fall, eh?"
What Penelope needed was despair that had been aged to perfection.
That was Clarice's decision.
The Cola business was progressing steadily day by day.
Serena had been reviewing Jurgen's technical specifications, drafting blueprints, and occasionally requesting approvals.
She'd already begun production, she said.
Judging by the dark circles under Serena's eyes, which grew worse by the day, she seemed to be working herself to the bone.
Lately, though, Penelope had been feeling uneasy.
"This is strange."
"Miss Penelope, your lips are sticking out."
"Shut up. Why don't you go play with Serena some more?"
"The confirmation process is now completely finished. Did something go wrong?"
"Don't you think it's strange too?"
The way the two of them were whispering and having their own private conversation was slightly—no, very slightly—irritating, but that wasn't the reason Penelope felt uneasy.
"It's just that Brighton has been too quiet."
The man who used to pester them so much that his lips practically cracked from talking, even coming all the way to the hotel, had gone completely silent.
Even though Polar Suns' stock had hit an all-time low of -80%, there wasn't so much as a letter or a phone call.
"Maybe he ran away."
"Run away? He didn't seem like the type."
"I agree with that."
Brighton was the kind of person who threw tantrums when things didn't go his way.
That's how he had always been, and that's what the rumors in high society said too.
Which was why he had been a mafia boss and held one of the seven seats on the Grey Council.
Was the Rosemore family really that terrifying to him?
Or did he have some other scheme up his sleeve?
As Penelope tilted her head in thought, she soon received shocking news.
Brighton, the representative of Polar Suns, had been found hanged in his office.
Neither of them believed it was suicide.
"Do you think the Rosemores had something to do with it?"
"I'm not sure. Honestly, I thought the family might not even care enough to bother."
She had already been living in the hotel for a year after running away from home.
The last time she'd seen her family was around then.
"Guess I asked a pointless question."
"Don't worry about it. What do you think?"
"Well, as you said, Brighton didn't have many enemies, did he? Maybe those around him turned on him once he lost his power."
"Hmm..."
She didn't feel particularly guilty.
He was a man who had done plenty to deserve death—hell, he had even tried to have her assassinated first.
It was just another reminder of how ruthless this world could be.
"Whatever happened, at least the troublemaker's gone. The business should go smoothly now."
The company was already struggling, and now with Brighton dead as well...
Polar Suns had revolved entirely around Brighton as its central figure, so it wouldn't last more than a day or two.
"Jurgen, this is a really good opportunity."
When a person dies, at best they leave behind a name—but when a company dies, it leaves behind scraps to be scavenged.
If Polar Suns collapses, its distribution network, factory sites, equipment, and even the workforce from those factories will all be up for grabs.
And since their business fields overlap, they can take exactly what they need.
"It won't be easy."
Jurgen cut straight to the point.
"True, we won't be the only ones eyeing it."
The business Polar Suns had been holding onto was a proven moneymaker.
Currently, Jurgen and Penelope had invested most of their budget into purchasing factory sites and manufacturing equipment, so they'd inevitably be outbid in any auction. And there would be plenty of other companies gunning for the logistics and distribution networks too.
"Above all, the Council will make their move."
"The Grey Council, you mean?"
"Yeah. Brighton held the 7th seat, and now it's vacant. Since they all know each other well, they'll act fast. They might already be moving as we speak."
This time, there was no clever solution.
They had no money, no information, and no justification.
"It's a shame, but there's nothing we can do."
Still, they had achieved their main objective.
It would be greedy to complain about missing out on a bonus when they'd already gained so much.
Maybe all the recent smooth sailing had made her more covetous than usual.
Just as she was thinking that, old man Ritz came upstairs with a letter in hand.
"Young lady, a letter has arrived for you."
"For me? Another letter begging for cola?"
"Well... it doesn't seem to be that kind of letter, so I brought it directly to you."
The letter Ritz handed over was sealed in a black envelope with red sealing wax.
One peculiar detail stood out...
"There's no insignia on the seal."
"Exactly. Suspicious, isn't it?"
Penelope scraped off the seal with a knife and unfolded the letter.
"To the Mother of Cola, Lady Penelope Rosemore..."
She couldn't help but tilt her head in confusion.
"We wish to... welcome you as the 7th seat of the Grey Council...?"
"Huh?"
Because something utterly incomprehensible was happening.