Chapter 52: Same Bed, Different Dreams (7)
Chapter 52: Same Bed, Different Dreams (7)
Translation: Godtl
First-generation noble.
A baronetcy, a title granted by the royal family in recognition of merit—one that cannot be inherited by descendants.
Though disparagingly called "mayflies" between emerging nobles and traditional nobles...
Becoming a baronet is by no means easy.
It's not something you can obtain simply by having a wealthy family.
You must contribute to the nation's economy or industrial development, or make achievements in technological innovation, national defense, culture, arts, diplomacy, and the like.
So is it over once you've earned such merit?
No.
Now begins the "kill each other from here on out" among families who've achieved similar merits.
The more terrifying part is...
To maintain that title, each subsequent generation must expend similar effort every time.
"..."
Serena blankly stared down at the luxurious sheet of paper in her hand.
An absurdly light single document.
Some dedicate their entire lives for this.
Some spend their whole lives yet never manage to obtain it.
"Jurgen negotiated with Baron Keystone to get this. Quite impressive, really."
"Why... would you give this... to me...?"
"I already told you earlier. To keep working with us."
"Ah... But why give this to me...?"
Serena entered an infinite loading state.
Her hands trembled like aspen leaves.
And for good reason.
It was too heavy.
This single, flimsy sheet of paper could be someone's entire life.
With this, there'd be no need to forcibly marry into Viscount Granville's household.
In fact, the decisive reason Serena had resolved to marry was because the viscount's family promised to use their baronetcy recommendation for her younger brother.
"Is this... real? Hwaaa..."
Serena's head spun with dizziness until her vision blurred.
Well.
It was hard to feel real.
'What's that?'
'A baronetcy recommendation.'
'Hmm, I see... Wait, what?!'
When Jurgen had casually produced the baronetcy recommendation as if it were some flyer,
Penelope had been just as dumbfounded as Serena.
'With this, Miss Serena wouldn't need to go through with the marriage to Viscount Granville's family, right?'
Moreover, when she heard him say without hesitation that he'd use it for Serena, it was even more unbelievable.
Of course, Penelope was secretly pleased that she wouldn't have to part with Serena.
But regardless of whether this situation was good or bad, one question inevitably arose:
'Why go this far...?'
Jurgen was a commoner too.
For him, a baronetcy recommendation would be an unmissable opportunity.
To this question, he answered almost evasively:
'Doesn't Miss Serena need it more than I do?'
Honestly, if it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have been convinced.
She would have thought, 'He must have some ulterior motive.'
'...That's true.'
But well, this was Jurgen.
The same person who had readily extended his hand to the once-unremarkable Penelope.
It wouldn't be strange at all for him to help Serena in her predicament.
While a corner of her heart warmed at his matter-of-kindness, for just a brief moment,
she felt a prickling sense of dissonance.
She wasn't quite sure how to describe it.
It was an unfamiliar emotion, a sensation not yet cataloged in Penelope's personal dictionary.
But if she had to put it into words...
It was as if someone had stepped unannounced into her meticulously organized private study?
Well, it wasn't particularly important anyway.
The ripples that had spread through her chest like waves soon washed away in the satisfaction of knowing Serena wouldn't have to leave.
After all, good things were just good.
"Thank... you... I'll work... really hard... I promise...!"
Serena wept so profusely her eyes turned rabbit-red as she expressed her gratitude.
It was both pitiful and adorable.
Already small-built and timid, with her eyes swollen from crying, Serena truly resembled a little rabbit.
Like a pet.
Was this what it felt like to have a younger sister to look after?
Penelope rested her chin on her hand, gazing at Serena with warm contentment.
"Sniff... Lady Penelope... There's... something I didn't tell you. I—I feel like hiding it any longer would be wrong, especially when you've been so kind to me..."
"What is it?"
"I... I once... proposed to Jurgen."
"...What?"
The warmth in Penelope's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
"What did you just say?"
Even the gentleness in her voice had evaporated.
Cute as a rabbit? What nonsense!
A noble lady, reduced to sniveling like this—what a disgrace!
No rabbit in the world could look this pathetic!
"O-Of course, it wasn't serious! Really! It was just... in a moment of drunkenness... I didn't want to get married, so I clung to him like a child throwing a tantrum. Jurgen didn't mention it, but... I thought I should apologize for this too."
"Hmm~ Is that so?"
If she thought about it calmly, Serena probably wasn't lying.
And if she thought even more calmly, there was no reason for her to feel upset about Serena's proposal.
What did it matter to her whether Serena proposed to Jurgen or not?
"No need to apologize to me. It wasn't serious anyway, right?"
"Yes... It really wasn't."
But then it came again.
That sensation.
Like swallowing cola the wrong way, a sharp sting in her chest.
This feeling, as if someone had snatched away a doll she cherished.
Penelope desperately suppressed it.
Because it felt like opening Pandora's box—something she absolutely shouldn't do.
"Haaah..."
Calm down.
She had to calm down.
She must have been more disappointed than she realized that Jurgen hadn't received the honorary title.
Every time he was dismissed for being a commoner, it had secretly bothered her.
"Anyway, even though I wasn't the one who gave it, that honorary title was something Jurgen yielded to you, right?"
"Yes!"
"Don't even think about slacking off from now on. You'll serve Y&P Trading Company for the rest of your life."
"Yes!"
But then...
Looking at Serena, her face still streaked with tears yet beaming brightly as she answered...
The gloom that had begun to cloud her heart cleared again.
A soft chuckle escaped her.
"Serena, your face is ridiculous right now."
"Huh? R-Really?"
"Ugh, you're hopeless. How did you ever think you could get married like this?"
"I-I can do it properly if I try...!"
"Come here."
"Sniff, sob..."
Penelope took out a handkerchief and briskly wiped Serena's face.
Still, she couldn't help but think...
It was a good thing Serena wasn't leaving after all.
After brilliantly reclaiming the honorary title recommendation through negotiations with Baron Keystone...
Gideon Belheim couldn't hide his admiration.
"Jurgen, you truly are an unfathomable man."
"I already explained everything before. Why bring it up now?"
"Because I'm in awe. Anyone can sketch a grand plan, but only a handful of painters can bring what's in their mind to life on canvas."
"You flatter me too much."
Gideon Belheim was a man of solemn temperament.
In his entire life, he could count on one hand the times he had ever made a fuss or lost his composure.
"Wasn't it only possible because you leveraged Devbun Bank's network to connect us with local beverage companies?"
"No, my help was trivial. What matters is your strategy itself. Truly, you are a genius of commerce, a master tactician—no, calling you 'hands that spin gold' wouldn't be an exaggeration."
Lately, Jurgen had begun to find Belheim's excessive praise a little burdensome...
But from Belheim's perspective, it was only natural.
If Belheim had been in Jurgen's position, what would he have done?
He probably would have used the bottling license as a weapon to focus on a full-scale market share war across the north.
Not that he lacked confidence, but his opponent was Keystone Company.
It would have been a grueling battle.
Yet Jurgen had resolved it with astonishing finesse.
Rather, he had turned his most formidable adversary into a steadfast ally.
"I never imagined you would go so far as to establish a cooperative relationship with Baron Keystone."
Who was Baron Keystone?
A traditional noble of Golden Hill, armed with the gravitas of a seasoned merchant—far from an easy man to deal with.
Yet Jurgen had even secured a recommendation for a minor title from such a man.
Having witnessed the situation unfold to this extent, Head Manager Belheim couldn't help but naturally arrive at this thought.
"Mr. Jurgen."
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever considered working with me?"
"Aren't we already working together?"
This series of achievements was no mere stroke of luck.
Belheim knew exactly where this momentum had come from.
Jurgen wasn't just a figure who stood out as a technical noble.
While Penelope acted as the charming face of their social engagements, it was Jurgen who had orchestrated the grand strategy behind the business.
He had devised the masterstroke of leveraging the regulatory bureau to utterly crush Rex, then effortlessly dismantled Baron Keystone's ordinance before sealing a dramatic alliance.
It was highly likely he had also played a significant role in Brighton's downfall.
How could anyone simply stand by and watch such a man?
He had to be secured.
At the very least, a far closer relationship needed to be forged.
"You must have heard stories about me, Mr. Jurgen?"
Belheim, after lavishing praise, steadied his tone.
"Indeed, many of them were quite memorable."
Since they were now working together, it was only natural that he had done his research.
And what he had uncovered about Gideon Belheim was nothing short of astonishing.
With his gentlemanly appearance and demeanor, one might have assumed he was nobility—but he was, in fact, born from the very bottom.
Yet at the mere age of fifteen, he had passed the Devbun Trust Bank's open recruitment.
From then on, with no backing whatsoever, he had proven his worth through sheer ability, climbing the ranks while amassing devastating results.
He had built the Devbun Trust Bank as it stood today, to the point where everyone agreed that "Devbun Trust cannot exist without Belheim."
So much so that Count Devbun, the bank's owner, had arranged for his only daughter to be engaged to him.
At this rate, it was practically a foregone conclusion that Belheim would inherit the Devbun family's business.
"But I'm still hungry. There's far more to devour ahead than what I've eaten so far."
Yet not a trace of satisfaction could be seen in Belheim's eyes.
As if everything he had achieved thus far was barely an appetizer, a ravenous heat burned fiercely within him.
By now, even Jurgen was growing curious.
"What is it you want, Mr. Belheim? From where I stand, you already seem to have enough."
At this question, Belheim smirked and gave an unexpected answer.
"What I want is likely the same as what you want, Mr. Jurgen."
"I'm not as greedy a man as you, Mr. Belheim."
"You can be honest. Neither of us is the type to miss what's right in front of us, are we?"
A crease formed between Jurgen's brows.
'...The same thing?'
What Jurgen wanted was the Gastronomic Revolution.
And Belheim was, without a doubt, one of the most ambitious and capable individuals he had ever met.
Even if he turned the world upside down, it was hard to imagine him staking everything on something as trivial as the Gastronomic Revolution.
"..."
But the way Belheim met Jurgen's gaze—it was as if, for the first time, he had encountered a true equal who could understand his ideals. His eyes gleamed sharply.
"..."
Nod.
After a long silence, seeing no reaction from Jurgen, Belheim slowly nodded.
That silent signal of trust—"It's alright, let's be honest with each other."
'This is incredibly burdensome...'
In the end, it was Belheim who broke the silence first.
No—strictly speaking, Jurgen had nothing to say anyway.
"Very well. You truly are cautious. Then I'll show my hand first."
After a measured pause, Belheim spoke in a low, deliberate tone.
"Rosemore."
"...?"
"I, too, want Rosemore—just like you, Mr. Jurgen."
What kind of sudden nonsense was this?
As Jurgen stood dumbfounded before him, Belheim smoothly continued with practiced eloquence.
"Of course, back when the Rosemore Count Family stood unshaken, such a thing would have been unthinkable. Not all count families are created equal, after all."
Belheim spoke true.
The Rosemore Count Family was a family that stood in a completely different league from even Count Devbun's house.
They were the prestigious noble family that held complete control over Britannia's granary—the Labyrinth Demon Realm.
Even most marquises and dukes would defer to the Rosemore name.
"But even the most unshakable families develop leaks when the bloodline changes hands."
It had been years since Count Rosemore, the family head, had fallen into a coma.
He left behind three children:
Rupert Rosemore, the eldest son; Clarice Rosemore, the eldest daughter; and Penelope Rosemore, the second daughter.
On the surface, Rupert had solidified his position as successor with Clarice providing supporting fire...
While Penelope had been completely sidelined, treated as little more than dead weight.
"At first, I couldn't understand it. Why Mr. Jurgen would hide his status to conduct business, and why he would specifically choose to take Penelope's hand."
"Is there anything to understand?"
"Please, no jokes. A man of your caliber could have found far more efficient methods. For business purposes alone, it would have been better to join hands with Brighton."
"Hmm."
Well, the Gastronomic Revolution itself was a goal quite distant from "efficiency"...
But that very inefficiency seemed to have been interpreted by Belheim in an entirely different light.
"Reinstating the disgraced Penelope. Then using Lady Penelope as the key to claim the Rosemore inheritance. That is your true objective, isn't it?"
Belheim drove the point home with absolute conviction, his voice devoid of any doubt.
Jurgen's eyes widened as if greatly startled.
'That's not it...'
While not logically inconsistent, it simply wasn't true.
Penelope just happened to be the sole regular customer at his failing general store.
"Some time ago, I refused your request to stand by Y&P Trading Company's side. But allow me to say this clearly now—if there's room for me in this game, I'll gladly assist. As I mentioned, I'm a man of considerable greed."
Jurgen observed Belheim's passionate enthusiasm for joining what he saw as the gamble of a lifetime with a subtle expression.
'When people are too clever, they sometimes grab the wrong end of the stick like this...'
Though Belheim might feel slightly embarrassed, misunderstandings should be corrected.
"That's..."
Then, like a bolt of lightning, realization struck.
Wait a minute.
'Is there really any need to correct his misunderstanding here?'
Truthfully, it still wasn't certain whether Penelope had been subjected to malicious suppression from her family.
Penelope herself vehemently denied such claims.
But it was undeniable that she'd been relegated to nothing more than a figurehead role at the Litchfield Hotel—a mere pittance from the vast inheritance.
Ultimately, this proved how neglected she was within the family.
Jurgen had no interest in the Rosemore inheritance, nor in Belheim's ambitions.
But if possible, he genuinely wanted to see his partner—who had been with him since the hole-in-the-wall store days—smile happily.
'With Belheim's support, we could accelerate the Gastronomic Revolution through Y&P Trading Company while restoring Penelope's standing within her family...'
That would indeed be the best outcome.
"I've shown you all my cards. What do you say, Mr. Jurgen? Do you feel inclined to join forces?"
Still, was it right to deceive Director Belheim like this?
He felt slightly guilty about what felt like swindling someone, but...
'Now even I don't know anymore.'
If Y&P prospered, surely something would come Belheim's way too.
Jurgen smiled faintly.
"Very well. I look forward to working with you."
"The pleasure is mine. Ah, and please speak casually. You must be older than me, after all."
"Hmm, was it that obvious?"
"...You didn't seem to be trying very hard to hide it."
In this picturesque scene of shared delusion,
the two men reached out and shook hands firmly.
Y&P Trading Company had gained Belheim on the left and Keystone on the right!