Tycoon Marygold (2)
“Cough, hack!”
“Why’s this woman trying to die before they even carry out the execution?”
Pathetic, Marygold.
The sight of Marygold bound to the gallows was utterly wretched. The noose around her neck was already choking off her breath, leaving her face a mess of tears and snot.
Lancel grabbed one of the onlookers gathered in front of the platform.
“What’s she dying for?”
“Bad luck, what else?”
The villager lowered his voice and continued. “Word is, the trading ships those folks invested in changed flags the moment they left port and went on a full pirate rampage. Happens all the time.”
“Oh.”
“And get this—the young master who survived the piracy on that very ship? He’s kin to the local margrave’s family. Like, the butler’s family’s cousin’s in-law’s kid or some shit.”
“Noble connections, huh.”
The family tree was a tangled mess, but the point was, it was noble blood—low-rank, sure, but still.
Figures it’d be something like that.
This wasn’t just bad luck. It was one of the worst possible outcomes in shipping investments, the kind you could count on one hand.
Finding a case like this in one go? Almost a talent in itself.
“Carry out the execution!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Eek!”
The guard’s sword sliced clean through the ropes holding the platform steady.
Thud!
A dozen people dropped at once, dangling from the gallows. Their final struggles were nothing but futile writhing.
Marygold was among them.
“Guhhh!”
Oh crap, she’s dying.
“Wait, hold on!”
Lancel rushed forward.
* * *
“So, Sir Lancel Dante… you’re saying you’re this girl’s guardian or something like that?”
“Yeah. The money I loaned her for the shipping investment? That was my money. Right?”
Marygold nodded frantically, her face still streaked with tears and snot. Her head whipped back and forth so hard it stirred the air.
With corpses swaying limply on either side, she clung to a hastily erected pedestal beneath her feet, the only thing keeping her alive. If she weren’t so light, her neck would’ve snapped by now, joining the others.
“Ha, what a mess.”
The guard captain scratched his head.
“No need to complicate it. Mary here got duped. Look at these dead guys—old foxes, every one. She was just scouting shipping investments to grow the money I gave her, and they sweet-talked her into it.”
“…I heard this Mary girl gathered the investments herself, though…?”
What?
Lancel shot Marygold a glance. Her face drained of color as she shook her head vigorously.
“…Must be a misunderstanding. How’s a kid not even of age supposed to scrape together funds from all these people?”
“Well… yeah, that part always bugged me too.”
“I’ll write a letter in the Dante family name myself. That square it?”
“No helping it, then.”
The captain’s face lit up like he’d been waiting for those words. The Dante family was as high as nobility got around these parts.
“Let the girl—er, Miss Mary—down!”
“Yes, sir!”
Soon, Marygold was freed by the guards’ hands. She collapsed in a heap, legs giving out, and Lancel wiped cold sweat from his brow when he noticed the damp patch on her pants.
Saint one minute, petty criminal on the gallows the next.
What a rough life, Marygold.
“Alright, everyone disperse! Leave the bodies up there till they’re bones!”
“Yes, sir!”
Sunset came and went. Once the crowd cleared, only Marygold remained under the gallows, head bowed low. Minutes passed with no reaction.
“Hey, you okay?”
The moment Lancel poked her, she flung her arms wide and lunged for his pant leg.
“My benefactor! Waaaaaah!”
Marygold, back from the brink of death. Wailing at the top of her lungs.
4.
“Phew!”
Marygold downed the chilled fruit drink in one go. She was a sight—puffy eyes, red-raw nose, rope burns stark on her neck.
“…I didn’t want you seeing me like this, benefactor.”
Those were her first words, face buried in the tavern table.
“That’s what you get for risky investments.”
“But… but…”
“No buts.”
Lancel cupped her chin and lifted her gaze to his.
“Now spill: what the hell have you been up to these last two years?”
“…”
After a hesitant pause, Marygold spilled it all. Reselling animal fat from passing merchant carriages for gold. Baking bread for docked sailors to sell. Reporting scammers for bounties. Handing over every coin to some famous captain rumored in port—turns out he was a pirate. And so on.
She’d been busy.
“They swore 150 times the return, then bam—pirates. Thought my life was over for real.”
Her eyes went vacant as she murmured.
“Heard you gathered the investments yourself.”
“N-no way! I didn’t have that kinda money…”
“Hm.”
“It’s true! I’d never lie to you, benefactor!”
“Hmmm.”
Marygold’s eyes darted away. What was the real story?
Lancel let it slide.
Making money ain’t easy.
He’d tried himself once—soap, pens, paper. All flops.
“Benefactor… about that gold you loaned me…”
She fidgeted, stealing glances.
“Pay it back triple in five years.”
“R-really?”
Like two years ago, she dropped to her knees.
“I swear! This time I’ll succeed, benefactor! Triple, no—ten times over! Or… travel with me!”
“Nah, that’s a hard pass.”
This loop was vacation mode. A brief detour didn’t change that.
But Marygold pressed on, leaning in with sparkling eyes.
“Then if I succeed, will you join me?”
“Depends how big the success, I guess?”
“Richest in the region?”
“Capital’s full of those.”
“Richest in the capital?”
“Big dreams, I like it…”
“Richest in the empire? The continent? A mountain of gold? Then will you stay with me?”
“Why so fired up?”
Lancel gently pushed her back; her breath was hot on his face.
“Watch me, benefactor.”
One knee on the ground, she stared up, emerald eyes blazing with resolve.
“I’ll become rich. Rich enough that you’ll stay by my side. For real.”
“When that happens… you’ll stay with me, right, benefactor?”
Her voice trembled with desperation.
Lancel chuckled.
“We’ll see.”
“…! That’s a yes!”
Fearing he’d back out, she bolted from the tavern.
“Just watch!”
5.
Fallen Lady Simulation
Creating schedule for Week 1 of August.
Mon - Shopping. (Location: Port City Harbor)
Tue - Trading. (Location: Port City Market)
Wed - Trading. (Location: Port City Market)
Thu - Bake sturdy preserved bread.
Fri - Brew sweet-bitter fruit jam.
Sat - Trading. (Location: Port City Harbor)
Sun - Trading. (Location: Port City Market)
※ Work steadily and honestly!
While Lancel lingered in the port city, Marygold hustled like mad. Bed at 2 a.m., up at 6 a.m. When word came of merchant carriages from afar, she’d beat everyone there with a basket on her back.
“I’ll take it all! Give it to me!”
Ships docking? She’d haul mysterious snacks and dash over.
“Three silvers a jar! Cheap, so cheap! Bread and jam that lasts ten years!”
Her voice echoed through the market without fail.
Lancel felt relieved, deep down.
She’ll be fine on her own at this rate.
No starving in some ditch, at least. Empire’s richest? Nah.
…
“Benefactor! Benefactor!”
Soon after, a beaming Marygold tracked him down.
“Look! Guild ID!”
She flashed a metal badge proving membership in the local merchant guild.
“You joined the guild?”
“Now I can tag along with caravans for overland trade. Way more money than before. What do you think?”
“Good… for you.”
“Yeah!”
She grinned like she’d conquered the world, but Lancel felt a twinge.
Overland trade, huh.
Not easy.
“I’ll settle in the capital in a few years—come visit, benefactor. I’ll have tons of cash to greet you. Promise.”
Next week, she joined a massive caravan. An eight-month trek.
“Benefactor! I’m off! See you!”
Hood pulled low, robe flapping in the sand. Her cheerful wave was the last image he’d hold.
After that, Lancel shoved her from his mind.
* * *
Two years later.
Lancel spotted Marygold’s name in the unlikeliest place. Visiting a barony in the west for the harvest festival, amid drunken revelry, his eyes snagged on a shabby wanted poster tacked to a bulletin board.
Reward: 25 Gold Coins
“…No way.”