Chapter 48: Same Bed, Different Dreams (3)
Chapter 48: Same Bed, Different Dreams (3)
Translation: Godtl
The sun was high in the sky.
The direct sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains happened to hit Serena square in the eyes, forcing her into an unwanted early awakening.
"Huuu... It's so bright..."
Perhaps it was because she'd drunk herself into a stupor all night.
"Wa... waaater..."
Her throat was parched.
Her stomach churned, and her head throbbed as if a bell were ringing inside it.
On top of that, the back of her neck ached terribly, as if someone had chopped it with the edge of their hand.
It had been so long since her last heavy drinking session that she'd completely forgotten.
Alcohol was the devil's gift.
It offered momentary pleasure in exchange for leaving behind the price of a hangover.
"Lady Serena, did you cough just now?"
As she groaned under the covers, Head Maid Masa entered the room.
"My goodness, just smell this alcohol. We need to air out this room."
"Ugh, Masa... Don't open the window..."
"Absolutely not, my lady. If we leave it like this, even I'll end up completely drunk."
Serena writhed under the intensified sunlight, mumbling incoherently.
"Masa, my head feels like it's splitting open..."
"And whose fault is that for drinking without restraint? Here, I've brought cool water—drink it all up."
"No... I don't want to move..."
"If you stay like this, your headache will only get worse. Come on now."
Masa had worked for the Lenoir family since before Serena was born, making her almost like an aunt.
She playfully smacked Serena's bottom as the young lady sulked, urging her to get up.
Gulp, gulp.
With great effort, Serena sat up and chugged the water Masa handed her.
The cool lemon-infused water washed away the stale taste in her mouth, and she finally felt like she could breathe again.
"Haah... Thank you, Masa. You saved my life."
"Don't mention it."
Serena was no child—she was a proper young lady.
If she'd been caught wallowing in a hangover like some drunkard under normal circumstances, Masa would have scolded her.
But today, Masa only looked at Serena with pity, offering no reprimands.
Just as Serena saw Masa as an aunt, Masa also treated Serena like a niece.
Having cradled and raised her since infancy, their bond might have even been deeper than that.
Though it was the fate of noble families, Masa couldn't help but feel sorry for the heartache Serena endured due to political marriages.
"I've prepared some onion soup, so come out and settle your stomach."
"Thank you, Masa."
As Masa left the room,
Serena plopped down on the bed, staring blankly at the chiffon curtains fluttering in the breeze.
"..."
What a pleasant breeze.
Why were afternoons always so slow and drowsy?
If it weren't for her splitting headache, she would have loved to curl up right here and take a long nap...
What was it?
That nagging feeling, like finishing assembling a machine only to find a screw left over...
"I feel like I'm forgetting something important... Huh?"
Now that she thought about it.
She definitely remembered meeting Jurgen in the drawing room last night...
So why had she woken up in her bedroom?
That question triggered the fragmented pieces of her memory to slowly stitch themselves back together.
She had definitely met Jurgen alone in the drawing room...
'D-do you think I wanted to be born a baronet's daughter?! If I'd been born into an established family, I'd be living comfortably too, you know?!'
"Ah."
The highlight reel of last night began playing in Serena's mental theater.
'I hate it, I hate all of it... Especially nobles! I hate them more than spiders... Waaah...!!!'
The memory of her whining like a child in front of Jurgen.
"Waaahhh!! Then you should take responsibility, Jurgen! If you saved me, you should take full responsibility!!!"
Not stopping there, she had clung to his pant leg, wailing like a child—utter disgrace!
"Why not?! I'm pretty, aren't I?! I'll even turn a blind eye if you keep seeing Lady Penelope!"
And then, the crowning humiliation—the declaration of "I don't mind being the second woman!"
"It's fine! They say drunken words are sober thoughts! I am drunk, but I mean it! I'll propose right now! Jurgen! Marry me!!!"
A proposal and shameless coercion so outrageous even the trashiest third-rate romance novels wouldn't dare include it!
Faced with the full weight of these memories, Serena's reaction was swift.
—THUD!
She immediately slammed her forehead against the bedpost.
Sure, everyone carried at least one embarrassing memory, but some black marks in history were just too extreme.
"Haaah... Haaaah!!!"
THUD! THUD! THUD!
But far from fading, the memories only grew sharper.
Jurgen's flustered expression and her own derailed, runaway-train behavior played on an endless loop in her mind.
"Disappear! Just forget it! Why, why on earth did I do...?!!"
Of course, it wasn't as if she hadn't thought—even fleetingly—that marrying Jurgen was better than being wed off to some stranger in the capital, a place filled with nothing but bad memories.
And yes, she had found him undeniably dashing when he appeared to save her at her lowest moment.
But that was all just fantasy.
Because didn't Jurgen already have a lover—Penelope?
"Wh-wha-wha-what do I do?!"
This wasn't just a matter of embarrassment.
"WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?!!!"
To Jurgen, it might've been nothing more than a drunken mishap.
Just Serena making a fool of herself.
But from Penelope's perspective?
'What? What did you just say?'
'Serena... proposed to you?'
From Penelope's standpoint, Serena had just proposed to her lover, Jurgen.
Serena had tried to steal the Penelope Rosemore's man.
A love feud.
Among the bloodiest high-society scandals, the most vicious always stemmed from love feuds.
"Hyaaaaahk!"
Cosmic terror seized Serena.
"I-I should go explain right now that it was all a misunderstanding...!"
But how would Penelope react to this "misunderstanding"?
Surely, given their history, she wouldn't go that far to retaliate... right?
"If I just explain it was all a mistake... Ah..."
But as she agonized over how to smooth things over, realization struck her like lightning.
"A mistake..."
At first, she'd thought it was just drunken recklessness.
But the more she replayed it, the clearer it became.
It wasn't a mistake.
Last night's disaster was no drunken accident.
Sure, the disgraceful, proposal-like nonsense had been a slip of the tongue.
But beneath it all lay cold calculation—"Marry Jurgen to escape the political marriage."
Worse, Serena had known full well about his relationship with Penelope—yet she'd still clung to him, spouting nonsense like "I don't mind being second."
Had that really been a spur-of-the-moment thought?
The answer was...
"No..."
She knew better than anyone.
Last night's disgrace wasn't an accident—it was her own vile, calculated desperation bursting out in the messiest way possible.
'And it wasn't just this once...'
Looking back, even when she'd gone to Penelope for advice, part of her had hoped—
That Penelope would offer her a way out, a condition so favorable she wouldn't have to marry at all.
Because Penelope had embraced Serena.
Because she had secretly enjoyed the time they spent together.
Because she had even thought that perhaps a friendship had begun to blossom between them.
And yet, she had tried to use Penelope, holding that very friendship hostage.
Under the guise of "seeking advice," she had hoped to win Penelope's pity and goodwill.
"Ha... haha..."
A hollow laugh escaped her.
A bitter, self-deprecating smile.
"This means... I'm no different..."
What was the difference between those who had used Serena at the academy and herself now?
Even as she claimed to want "true friends" who treated each other sincerely.
In reality, all she had done was scheme to manipulate both their hearts.
How must Penelope have seen through Serena's transparent, shallow ploys?
'You've really worked hard until now. I'll compensate you for everything you've done.'
Only now did Penelope's razor-sharp response make sense.
The moments she had shared with Penelope slipped through her fingers like sand.
The times they had bickered over trivial things, raising their voices at each other.
The times she had peeked into Penelope's room, annoyed yet unable to help herself.
Even the walks after meals and the naps they took side by side on Serena's private sofa.
These were precious memories that would likely never return.
"Friends..."
Something Serena had desperately wanted but could never grasp.
That's why she had sneered at it, calling it nothing but an illusion.
And yet, she had come so close to holding it in her hands.
Perhaps it was Serena herself who had thrown that friendship away.
"I wasn't worthy of it..."
A single tear rolled down Serena's cheek.
No matter what anyone said, the heart of the North was Nortaris, but as if to challenge its dominance, three powerful satellite cities existed.
Golden Hill, the city of livestock; Riverport, the city of harbors; and Billstone, the city of mining. Whether called the "Northern Triad" or the "Trident of the North," they shared one common trait.
'Seriously, what makes Riverport inferior to those bastards?'
'Nortaris? Let's be honest, it was a backwater until the Demon Realm was cleansed.'
'The true legacy of the North lies with us in Golden Hill.'
They all harbored deep-seated rivalry toward Nortaris.
And Baron Keystone exploited this very sentiment.
Frankly, his influence alone wasn't enough to completely block Cola's expansion into the North.
To enforce such a blockade, he would need the backing of a house like the Rosemore Count Family.
But by leveraging regional resentment, the story changed.
The official name: "Emergency Ordinance to Prevent the Disruptive Market Practices of Foreign Low-Cost Beverages and Protect Local Commerce."
Too long, so everyone just called it the Cola Emergency Ordinance.
Though the name and justification sounded grand, it was ultimately a ploy to exploit the shared sentiment of, "How dare a Nortaris company barge into our markets?"
This ordinance, which stoked territorialism, was swiftly passed in the Northern Triad, creating an insurmountable wall for the fledgling Y&P Trading Company, which lacked powerful backing.
Coincidentally, the geographical positions of these three cities encircled Nortaris.
Blocking them tightly meant Cola would struggle to spread beyond Nortaris.
But in truth, by this point.
Baron Keystone had already lost much of his interest in Cola.
To be more precise, perhaps it was that something far more intriguing than Cola had caught his attention?
"What do you think? Not so easy, is it? Jurgen, my boy."
[Indeed, your prowess is as exceptional as your bold claims.]
The commoner currently on the call was none other than Jurgen, the hidden pillar of Y&P.
"It's not too late yet. How about declaring surrender now? My offer still stands."
Very rarely, individuals like this emerge.
Those born without noble blood or privileged upbringing yet display genius-level talent in specific fields.
Beings who chew through the limitations of social status with overwhelming ability.
Baron Keystone's intuition told him Jurgen was precisely that kind of man.
"I've never courted anyone this desperately in my life."
[Oh ho, were you quite the handsome lad in your youth?]
"Hoho, I'd say I'm still passable now, wouldn't you?"
[...]
He even chuckled at jokes that would have made him bristle if told by anyone else.
Perhaps it was something like, 'Well, a young man ought to have that much spirit.'
But taming a wild horse isn't about letting it run rampant indefinitely.
"Jurgen, at this point, no matter how much Y&P thrashes about, they can't break through this barrier. As I said before, you people don't have any real power, do you?"
All of Y&P's attempts to circumvent the regulations through various means had ended in failure.
He'd given them enough time to exhaust themselves struggling.
Now it was time to prepare the final ultimatum.
"I was quite the playboy in my youth. Still am, really."
[...Hmm, frankly that's hard to believe]
"Enough joking. The point is, I won't always have my eyes solely on you."
[So you're saying it's time to decide our course?]
"Precisely."
The silence over the receiver grew prolonged.
[Am I to understand your previous offer still stands? The recommendation for an honorary baronetcy, I mean.]
"Of course. It's still valid."
[You won't regret the recommendation? I'd hate for you to suddenly change your mind.]
Keystone let out a triumphant laugh.
Because Jurgen finally seemed to be yielding.
"I stake my honor on this promise."
[Very well.]
"Now we're speaking the same language. Come to Golden Hill by tomorrow. We need to discuss future plans."
Jurgen would become the prized stallion pulling the carriage of Keystone Company.
Fitting good horseshoes to such hooves was the least he could do.
The beaming expression on Baron Keystone's face cracked.
[Actually, I believe you'll be the one coming to us.]
"What?"
[Isn't it customary for the more urgent party to make the move?]
Did this mean he still hadn't submitted?
Or did he still not grasp the situation?
There was no need for complete docility.
Knowing when to assert one's pride appropriately was important too—it showed competitive spirit.
But clinging to petty pride while ignoring reality wasn't competitiveness—it was foolishness.
[Hasn't the call come through yet? I thought it was about time.]
"Stop this nonsense at once."
It seemed he needed to bring out the whip harshly here.
If he didn't break this bad habit quickly, it would cause problems for future cooperation.
Just as Baron Keystone was thinking this—
"Baron!"
His aide came stumbling breathlessly into the study.
The Baron's face twisted in irritation.
"Can't you see I'm on a call?"
"Th-that's not the issue, sir."
"What could possibly be so urgent?"
"Go-Golden Hill... Golden Hill is... being flooded with cola...!"
"What did you say?"
"Just the confirmed amount is already tens of thousands of bottles!"
The cola distribution channels had been practically sealed shut.
Yet cola was appearing in Golden Hill, Keystone Company's main stronghold?
What about all those regulations?
How was this physically possible?
As a stinging sensation, like being struck on the head, spread through him—
[I told you. The more urgent party would be the one to come first.]
A smug voice laced with laughter came through the receiver.