Chapter 31: I Released Cola in Nortaris! (1)
Chapter 31: I Released Cola in Nortaris! (1)
Translation: Godtl
A windowless conference room.
Thick cigarette smoke drifted over the aged mahogany table.
Marcus, the chairman of the Grey Council, wiped his monocle with a soft cloth before speaking.
"As all of you gathered here are aware, our longtime friend, Sir Edwin Brighton, has met an unfortunate end at the gallows. Let us take a moment of silence to pay our respects."
The reactions varied.
Some observed the silence solemnly, others sneered and clapped mockingly, while a few remained completely still, neither moving nor speaking.
After gauging the room, Chairman Marcus cut straight to the point.
"With this, the 7th Seat has effectively become vacant... I have already sent a proposal to Penelope Rosemore."
"Absolute nonsense!"
The moment Marcus finished speaking, a rough voice erupted from across the table.
It was Rex Salisbury, the 8th Seat, whose primary businesses were loan sharking and illegal gambling dens.
"Are you out of your mind, Chairman? That idiot Brighton got himself into this mess because of that little bitch, and now you're just handing her the inner sanctum of the Council? That seat should obviously go to me, the 8th Seat!"
Rex's thinly veiled ambition was laid bare in his half-respectful, half-defiant tone.
The directors below the 8th Seat also wore expressions of discontent, as if they agreed with his opinion.
It was no surprise—everyone here was eyeing a way to climb higher.
"I'm well aware of the weight a Council seat holds. Especially from the 7th Seat onward, where weighted voting rights come into play. I understand why you're raising your voice, Sir Rex."
"What, does that flashy little noblewoman remind you of your granddaughter or something? You should withdraw that proposal immediately."
"Restrain yourself, Rex."
It was Crane, the 2nd Seat, who intervened with a growl.
"Penelope will refuse the 7th Seat offer anyway. The Chairman knows that too."
"Thank you for the explanation, Sir Crane. That's precisely it."
"...What exactly does that mean?"
Rex, who had been gripping his chair, reluctantly sat back down with a displeased expression.
"Haven't you noticed how she's been focusing on her social comeback and restoring her reputation lately? It means she's still deeply invested in noble games."
"...So you're saying she wouldn't want to taint the prestige she gained from cola by mingling with the likes of us?"
At its core, the Grey Council was still a mafia gathering.
No matter what went on behind the scenes, the moment someone took a seat in the Grey Council, they were ostracized from high society—noble or not.
In a way, one could say the Grey Council was a desperate gathering of those cast out from the sunlit world of polite society.
"However, even if Penelope refuses the seat, we still plan to appropriately transfer the interests of the now-dissolved Polar Suns."
"...And why the hell would we do that?"
"A nominal gesture of reconciliation. After all, Brighton was a member of this Council."
"...Do we really need to tiptoe around like that? Just offer the seat as a formality, and we'll split the interests among ourselves."
Rex grumbled, clearly still dissatisfied, but Marcus's resolve was firm.
"Offering the seat is a gesture of reconciliation toward the Rosemores. Handing over the interests is a gesture toward Penelope herself."
Rex was frustrated.
He could grudgingly understand the seat offer—it made sense, even if it seemed a bit groveling.
After all, they were just making a show of goodwill, knowing full well she'd refuse. "We're innocent! We had nothing to do with Brighton, really! Here, we'll even let you into our inner sanctum—come see for yourself!" That was the message they were sending to the Rosemores.
"Fine, let's say that makes sense. But why bother with Penelope? She just stumbled into cola by accident—that won't last. Brighton died because he was stupid enough to attack a Rosemore bloodline, but business is a different matter, isn't it?"
"Do you truly believe Penelope has no real power, Sir Rex?"
"Is she even worth wasting breath discussing?"
Marcus shook his head slowly.
"This incident was the result of Brighton's overreach. But he wasn't incompetent. And yet, a noble girl with no backing, not even decent skills, brought him down."
"..."
"In the process, she made five of Brighton's men disappear, burned down a Polar Suns factory without leaving a trace, and even sent the Undertaker to his own funeral home. And all that—right at the moment she awakened as a 5th-Rank."
"..."
"Afterward, she deliberately spread rumors in high society. She forced the Rosemore family, who had been shunning her, into a position where they had to act—and that's how she took down Brighton."
"Where did you get that intel—damn it, Crane. Couldn't you have shared some of that with me?"
"No, thank you."
Marcus declared firmly.
"Do you really think all of this was mere coincidence? To me, it seems Penelope has been feigning incompetence as a reckless wastrel to evade her family's surveillance, only to finally reveal her true colors."
The chamber fell silent.
The Grey Council was no place for lighthearted banter.
Over the past decade, the number of times seats had changed hands through mutual backstabbing easily reached double digits.
Yet Marcus had always maintained his position as the unchallenged 'Chairman' throughout these power struggles.
Not because he possessed the most wealth, authority, or strength.
But because he alone held the foresight to benefit the entire Council—a fact everyone acknowledged.
"We'll keep our hands off Polar Suns' remaining assets for one month. That's my decision. Whatever scraps remain afterward, you're free to fight over."
"If that's the Chairman's will, we understand."
"I concur as well."
The other council members nodded in agreement.
Yet their attention had already shifted elsewhere.
They knew precisely how valuable this information was.
The moment the meeting adjourned, messages began flying.
"Marquess Ashford, we have information regarding Penelope Rosemore. No, not the eldest daughter—the second."
"Honorable Councilor, I trust you're well? Ah, there's some information you should be made aware of..."
"Cancel the Polar Suns factory acquisition! Yes, cancel it! Goddammit, back off immediately! That thing's a ticking bomb!"
"Yes, it's me. There might be movement soon. Let's lay low for now. No need to disregard Chairman Marcus's warning carelessly."
"So they want to offer me a seat?"
"Are they insane? What the hell are they thinking? Gives me the creeps."
Penelope burned the letter without a second thought.
Not satisfied, she meticulously washed her hands as if contaminated.
"Seems they want to reconcile with Lady Penelope. After all, Brighton did put you through considerable trouble."
"This is like stepping in shit and being invited to swim in the sewer. No thanks. Hard pass."
The seat offer was likely a peace overture toward House Rosemore rather than Penelope herself.
That at least made some sense.
Not that Penelope had the slightest intention of joining the mafia, even if they offered her all the wealth and glory in the world.
"My noble pride would never allow it."
"Didn't you say before that you despised nobles?"
"You wouldn't understand, Jurgen—you're a commoner. There are good nobles and bad nobles."
"And Lady Penelope is...?"
"Aren't I one of the good ones? And pretty to boot."
She poked her cheek smugly, preening.
That night.
After parting ways with Jurgen, Penelope returned to her private suite on the top floor.
"Ughhh..."
Sinking into the bathtub, she let out an unladylike groan.
All the tension drained from her body.
Just how much had happened today...?
On days like this, nothing beat soaking in scalding water before collapsing onto fluffy bedding.
Pure, thoughtless relaxation.
"House Rosemore handled Brighton... Polar Suns is about to dissolve into thin air... Not that there's anything left worth scavenging... What exactly do those mafia bastards take me for?"
She'd meant to rest, but...
Perhaps because she'd been steeped in these affairs lately, thoughts kept bubbling up like foam.
"The cola factory's almost ready too..."
With Serena's passionate cooperation, the cola factory was finally on track.
Starting tomorrow, they'd begin manufacturing equipment based on the blueprints.
Soon, cola would officially become a mass-produced commodity.
This should be cause for celebration.
Jurgen's culinary revolution was progressing steadily—no, more like barreling forward at breakneck speed with all limits removed.
"Really... how unsightly."
Yet now that the factory's opening loomed near, she felt strangely unsettled.
Her desire to support Jurgen's revolution was genuine.
But separately, Penelope's social standing had shone brightest when she alone could distribute cola.
Word about the factory must already be spreading.
Cola would soon lose its rarity, and with it, her current status.
High society was merciless.
The nobles who'd fawned over her for cola would turn their backs without hesitation.
Would they only come crawling back once the cola business stabilized much later?
"How greedy I've become..."
But still, isn't this much better?
Compared to before, even this is something to be grateful for.
I defeated the Undertaker, became a 5th-Rank Alchemist, and somehow managed to start a proper business.
Since I've already shown the family that I can punish Brighton, unless they're completely spineless, they won't openly disrespect me like before.
"...Ugh... Am I being ostracized again?"
Even as I thought that, it was one of those nights where sleep just wouldn't come.
Some time later.
The Nortaris Chamber of Commerce officially announced the dissolution of Polar Suns' corporate entity.
The creditors reclaimed Polar Suns' remaining manufacturing plants, distribution hubs, warehouses, logistics assets, and distribution rights, with some being put up for public auction.
"Why is everyone in such a hurry...?"
Is there some unwritten rule that auctions must be held at dawn?
Penelope arrived at the Chamber of Commerce after her "miracle morning," just in time for the crack-of-dawn auction.
Even at this ungodly hour before sunrise, the auction house entrance was swarming with vultures eager to pick at Polar Suns' carcass.
"Haa... Should've slept in instead..."
Her energy instantly deflated.
She'd brought a hefty sum, hoping to snag some decent assets at a bargain price... but seeing the crowd of competitors made that seem unlikely.
Moreover, today marked her first public appearance since the "cola factory" rumors started spreading.
Even when cola was at its peak, many in high society had looked down on Penelope.
No matter how much she pretended not to care, she was already hyper-aware of people's gazes and reactions.
"Based on past experience..."
She could already hear the whispers: "She got too cocky relying on cola alone—serves her right," or "She really can't see an inch ahead. Cola was only valuable because it was rare—she basically killed the golden goose."
One way or another, she'd probably face endless ridicule and snide remarks.
Just as Penelope was about to ascend the auction house steps, someone blocked her path.
"You are Penelope Rosemore, correct?"
Ah, here we go.
She'd been expecting this.
"Yes, that's me?"
Well, better strike first before being ignored!
Penelope sharpened her gaze, ready to go full hedgehog mode—
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Gideon Belheim, head manager of the Devbun Trust Bank."
She froze at the business card suddenly presented before her.
"...?"
Bewildered, Penelope accepted the card.
Why is he giving this to me? she wondered, but since he offered, she took it.
"I've been deeply impressed by your recent accomplishments. There may be small ways I can assist you, so please keep this."
Wait, wasn't Devbun Trust the bank that handles investments and asset management for influential nobles?
Regardless of its size, it was notoriously selective about clients.
"Oh, um... I don't have a card to give in return."
"Your name—'Penelope Rosemore'—those eight letters are your business card. Now if you'll excuse me."
After handing her the card, Manager Belheim departed.
"Well, well."
Penelope's shoulders involuntarily perked up.
He's got good taste, doesn't he?
As expected of the Nortaris branch manager of Devbun Trust.
He must have discerned that even if cola's value dips temporarily, it'll soon become a viable business venture.
But her good mood was short-lived.
"Um, excuse me... P-Penelope..."
"Ah! Brighton... was it?"
"About the cola, actually..."
"Speaking of which, the Black Council... Marcus..."
No wonder the back of her neck was prickling.
Noticing the sidelong glances, Penelope sharply turned to glare at the offenders.
"Honestly, don't you people have anything better to do...?"
In the past, she would've fled without a second thought. Not anymore.
It wasn't even a crowd—just four or five people.
"What are you staring at? Got business with me? Planning to hand out business cards too?"
Penelope boldly strode toward the gossipers.
Contrary to her expectation that they'd scatter with excuses—
"Ah, yes! Perfect timing—we were just hoping to speak with you!"
"Lady Penelope! We'd love to invite you somewhere quiet for a discussion."
"I'm the economics editor at the Nortimes! I put Lady Bellaby's cola feature on the front page! Please remember me!"
"Huh? Wha...? Huh?"
Suddenly, people were shoving business cards at her in a frenzy.
And seeing this, others began crowding around, determined to hand her their cards too.
"...?"
Arms now laden with cards, Penelope grew even more baffled.
Did everyone eat something bad?
Why are they acting like this?
Is this some new high-society hazing tactic—overwhelming someone with a flood of business cards?
Penelope couldn't comprehend what was happening even as she stepped into the Chamber of Commerce auction house.