Episode 34

The Davis Count Family.

A traditional royalist faction, they were a prestigious household in Grand despite lacking territorial holdings, having produced Ministers of Finance for two consecutive generations in the past.

The current head of the family, Count Falun Davis, was only twenty-five years old and already serving as a clerk in the Ministry of Finance. It was widely expected that within a decade, the family would produce a third-generation Minister of Finance.

Naturally, countless people sought to curry favor with the count's household, and with so many visitors, parties were frequent.

Thanks to this, the Davis mansion was always bustling with noisy guests.

"Hoh. A flame crest—I've never seen that before. The MacLaine barony, you say? Very well. Please, come in."

The gatekeeper of the Davis mansion examined the flame emblem on Logan's silver identity plate before speaking.

Though merely a soldier and not even a knight, the man sized Logan up with a smirk, his tone hovering between politeness and condescension. The servant reflects the master's arrogance, Logan thought. Even a lowly soldier felt entitled to look down on minor nobility.

It was such a common sight that Logan didn't bat an eye as he signed the guestbook and stepped into the massive mansion.

The sprawling gardens and the mansion—larger than MacLaine's entire inner city—were labyrinthine enough to make any first-time visitor lose their way.

But Logan didn't need to ask the passing servants for directions. The grand music spilling from the party hall naturally guided his steps.

Before entering the hall, however, he had to present his identity plate once more.

The knights guarding the entrance eyed his awkward tailcoat and stiff expression with suspicion.

"Ah, my apologies. Enjoy the capital's splendid culture, young lord."

Even after verifying his identity, their smirking faces didn't seem particularly welcoming.

"Announcing the arrival of the heir to the MacLaine barony!"

As Logan stepped inside with an exaggerated announcement, countless gazes turned toward him. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Who?"

"MacLaine?"

"Was there such a family?"

"Looks like a country bumpkin."

"Goodness, just look at that tacky party outfit."

But their interest in Logan ended there.

Parties were social gatherings for meeting influential people or attractive potential partners.

While Logan's red hair, red eyes, and decent looks might have drawn attention, they weren't enough to overcome the garishness of his "excessively flashy and expensive-looking" tailcoat in gold and red.

And so, Logan smiled in deep satisfaction.

Good choice, Philip.

It stung that no one knew of the MacLaine family, but he had no desire to form unnecessary connections unrelated to his goal.

After all, the butterflies flitting around this party in search of honey would vanish the moment the storm swept through the garden.

Those who would survive the coming chaos and make a name for themselves wouldn't be wasting their time at meaningless parties like this in broad daylight.

"Ugh, how provincial. I wonder what backwater he crawled out of."

"Don't look at him. I'd hate for something so filthy to taint your beautiful eyes."

Even the couple exchanging these ridiculous remarks loud enough for him to hear just seemed like fools.

As Logan walked toward his target without paying them any mind, someone suddenly stepped in front of him and bowed politely.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Simpson Brown."

"Logan MacLaine."

"The fame of the MacLaine earldom precedes you. It's an honor."

"......It's a barony."

"Huh? Not an earldom? I'm certain the noble lineage I memorized said—Ah?! Oh, um. My apologies. I must have mistaken you for someone else."

"......Hm?"

The man awkwardly laughed and backed away, as if genuinely embarrassed by his blunder, then high-fived his companions.

See? I did it. Told you I would. His exaggerated lip movements made it clear this was nothing more than a game to them.

......The world's full of weirdos.

Dismissing these carefree butterflies oblivious to the coming storm, Logan finally spotted his target.

The host of this party—Count Falun Davis himself.

With a modest paunch, a round face, and a friendly smile, the count stood surrounded by noblewomen laughing like flowers in bloom.

No matter how corrupt the kingdom was, it was still bizarre to see a high-ranking official of the Ministry of Finance hosting a party at this hour.

When you think about it, he's a pitiful bastard.

Given his family background and position, he was prime husband material.

Yet despite marrying at twenty and taking both a second wife and concubines, he remained childless.

Because he's impotent.

While analyzing the documents Nox had provided, Logan had stumbled upon the count's name in three separate ledgers—and suddenly, a memory from his past life resurfaced.

For a brief time, this man had been infamous.

The count who killed himself over his wife.

—Useless in bed!

Whatever had happened, the bomb his wife dropped at a party eventually drove him to suicide.

Though Logan couldn't fathom it, for the count, others' opinions and his honor must have mattered more than life itself.

Of course, Logan had little interest in Count Davis's future.

He only needed to extend a helping hand to this pitiful man—already saddled with three wives yet pressured by his family to take another—by offering salvation.

Logan approached the count and spoke quietly.

"Pardon me, Count. A guest wishes to pay his respects to the host."

"Oh my. A new guest! Welcome... Hm, where might you be from?"

Falun Davis barely managed to suppress his flinch at Logan's outfit as he forced a smile.

At an open party like this, even uninvited guests were still guests.

Since any noble could attend, etiquette demanded he be polite as the host.

"Logan MacLaine, eldest son of the MacLaine family from the southwestern region. I came to the capital on business and wished to pay my respects upon hearing of your esteemed reputation."

Even if he were some country bumpkin merchant, the principle remained the same.

The count was, after all, a model noble who knew his manners.

"Oh, business! There's nothing you can't find in Grand already. Hah, though I suppose coming from the frontier, you might have something new."

Even his insults were veiled. Such was the art of noble conversation.

Falun marveled at his own linguistic finesse, feeling some of the party's stress melt away.

But this country noble seemed a bit slow on the uptake.

"Of course. I'm certain it's something you don't have."

"......And what might that be?"

His disinterest was palpable, though he humored Logan regardless.

"Medicine. The kind you won't find anywhere else in the world."

"Ah, I see. Well then, I should—"

"Particularly good for men. Especially for nighttime activities."

The last words were whispered swiftly into the count's ear, low enough that only he could hear.

The sudden proximity might have startled him, but the tremor in his eyes wasn't from surprise.

"......What do you mean?"

"A potency drug. One that works even on eunuchs. It treats erectile dysfunction."

Though spoken just above a whisper, it must have sounded like thunder to the count.

But Falun's reaction wasn't quite what Logan expected.

"A noble's son peddling potency drugs?"

He raised his voice deliberately, as if to humiliate Logan, drawing attention.

The noblewomen nearby flushed and turned away.

The count's expression was easy to read: I don't believe you.

And why would he? Given his condition, he'd likely tried everything already.

"I'm confident in its effects."

Unfazed, Logan shrugged and smiled leisurely.

"Hardly befitting a noble's dignity. But well... business is free in this kingdom. Do your best."

Falun gave Logan a once-over before turning away stiffly.

Watching him go, Logan played his final card.

"Still, as an outsider, I ought to observe etiquette. I brought gifts to pay respects to the capital's influential figures."

"Gifts?"

"A product called 'Imperial,' priced at a hundred gold per dose. I've brought three doses as a special gift for you, Count."

Whether it was the mention of a hundred gold or simply the word "gift," the count turned back easily.

"I swear on my honor as a noble—it's a premium tonic with absolutely no side effects."

At Logan's final words, the count's eyes rippled like storm-tossed waves.

"Do you think the count will come to buy the medicine?"

"Hard to say. The odds are against it."

"Huh? Then why—"

"But I'm not just targeting him."

"Ah, I see what you mean."

"Desperate men dig wells. Throw the bait enough times, and someone will bite. And then—"

"The game will be over."

"No. That's when it begins."

Their words differed, but the meaning was the same.

Logan and Philip exchanged smiles.

The bustling heart of Grand's inner city.

At its center stood the royal palace, surrounded by the mansions of high-ranking nobles.

The street leading from the inner city's west gate to the center boasted the highest land value in all of Grand.

"This tiny plot costs ten thousand gold a month?"

Logan stared incredulously at the narrow space—barely thirty square meters—but the broker remained unapologetic.

"Haha, young lord, this is already a rare find. There are so many merchants vying for space here..."

"Philip. What do you think?"

"Space isn't our priority, is it? With some decoration, we can make it presentable."

Normally, merchants would haggle and compare options, but for them, appearances mattered most.

Logan smirked at the hidden meaning in Philip's words.

Unlike Logan, who had assumed nobles would seek him out if things went well, Philip insisted they needed a formal storefront—a legitimate sales channel.

—Of course, nobles won't come in person just because we open a shop. But having an official presence amplifies our reach.

Simply being seen where people gathered would accelerate rumors exponentially.

The argument was convincing enough that Logan rented a storefront in the most expensive part of the inner city.

But the exorbitant monthly rent—unimaginable back in MacLaine territory—still gnawed at him.

"We'll have to work harder."

"I'll decorate the shop lavishly."

"......Do that."

The decision was swift, and from that day on, Logan grew even busier.

Three-quarters of the Grandia Kingdom's nobility were concentrated in the capital, Grand.

While most landless honorary nobles resided there, even territorial lords often left their estates to stewards or heirs while they stayed in the capital.

Their goal was connections, and the parties they threw to build those connections ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kept Grand's heart lively day after day.

A country noble's son poking around such parties wasn't unusual—most gatherings only required noble status to attend.

But few showed up dressed as garishly as Logan.

"......Do you have an invitation? If not, may I see your identity plate?"

The soldier bowed politely, though it was less out of courtesy and more to suppress laughter.

This was already the seventh time today, so Logan shrugged and flashed his crest with practiced ease.

'Shouldn't someone have taken the bait by now...?'

He had been visiting one or two parties daily, scattering his lure.

Oddly enough, his targets hosted more parties than the average noble.

'Inferiority complex, maybe?'

He stifled a laugh, but the reason didn't matter.

Once the dam cracked, everything else would follow.

For now, casting as much bait as possible was key. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

So once again, Logan bowed with a smile at a man-shaped pig whose body defied the laws of physics.

'In his case, he should probably lose weight instead... Ugh. Just throw the bait and move on.'

His efforts bore fruit in less than five ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠days.

"No party today?"

The small space had been transformed into a luxurious private meeting room fit for VIPs.

Logan, slouched on a chair worth twenty thousand gold, stared blankly at the ceiling before answering Philip's question.

"Just thinking something over. Maybe the gaudy clothes ruined my image?"

"Don't overthink it. Your strategy is sound. The reactions should start—"

"Is anyone here?!"

The awaited voice rang out at the perfect moment.

"He's here."

"Finally!"

Smiles bloomed on both their faces.