The Marquis's Generous Offer
"I'm running a business out of a three-story building in Rosens. Five employees besides myself."
"Rosens?... Let me see... Rosens..."
The marquis tilted his head, deep in thought.
"If it's Rosens, you don't mean that city sandwiched in the Vurn Gorge, do you? From what I know, it was already abandoned. Prime trading spot, but monster infestations blocked all passage."
"That's the one. But those monsters all vanished half a year ago. It's booming again like old times."
The marquis brushed off the monster disappearance with a nod, but lit up at the mention of Bertrand starting his inn exactly half a year prior.
"So to sum up: You bought an inn dirt cheap in a ghost town, opened the doors, monsters vanished overnight, and the city came back to life... That about right? Haha! What business sense!"
"Just got lucky. Who could've predicted that?"
"No, that's not luck. Who in their right mind dives into a place like that to start a business? It only happened because you, Bertrand, had the guts to make it real."
The marquis praised him effusively until his mouth went dry. Bertrand found the whole thing awkward and could only muster awkward laughs and nods.
"So, what special services does your inn offer?"
"Well... nothing too out there right now, but... meal delivery, secure wagon parking with guards, hot water on tap, seasonal fresh ingredients year-round, cool indoor temps...? Oh, and the head chef's from the top graduating class of Cuisine Academy."
Saying it out loud, it didn't sound ordinary at all. Incredibly special, even.
Half-elf blink-step delivery across the city, black-magic-powered statues guarding the lot, never-spoiling ingredients via Preservation Ritual, bathwater boiled by black magic and chilled by Asenaris, and Francois to top it off.
The marquis said nothing. Glancing over, Bertrand saw him staring blankly, mouth agape like all dignity forgotten.
Shocked, huh.
"Ex... explain in detail. I can't make heads or tails of it just from words."
Bertrand broke it down step by step for the marquis, naturally weaving in mentions of his staff. As he spoke, the marquis's jaw dropped wider and wider.
"Well... I've been around the block in this world, but these are the wildest services I've ever heard of..."
"It just kinda happened. Problem is, the building's bursting at the seams—no room for more."
"Three stories, you said?"
"Yeah, but this floor's a mezzanine. Real usable space-wise, it's about this big."
"Mezzanine... Fair enough..."
The marquis's face turned grave as he pondered. Why's he digging so deep into the inn the second it comes up? Because his family started in hospitality, or 'cause he runs hotels himself?
"Ever thought about expanding the building?"
"Bought the plot behind it already. Bigger than this club lot, even."
"Really? Then why not build new there and bring in convenience spots? Business scales with size and investment. Rosens has plenty of north-south traffic—market's there."
"True, but funding's the issue. Scraping every coin and my pension barely covers a three-story wooden joint."
The marquis burst out laughing and slapped his knee. Did I say something wrong?
"Bertrand! No entrepreneur runs on pure equity! Debt's the foundation. Half this club's funded by loans."
"Half in debt?"
"Ha! Debt's an asset. Pay interest, roll it into bigger profits. Money makes money. Loans let you use others' cash to grow yours—easiest trick."
The marquis paused, thoughtful, then snapped his fingers with an a-ha!
"Forget that—Bertrand. You match my business savvy and drive, so let me help a bit. Heaven aids those who help themselves."
"Help? Like cash?"
"Nah, too simple—I'd just buy the inn outright. But you wouldn't sell, right?"
"Spot on."
Retired to run the inn—selling it defeats the purpose. Can't trade life's goal for gold.
"That's why I'm curious: How big can you grow it with your talent?"
The marquis sprang from the sofa to his desk. Celereja, dozing on Bertrand's shoulder since the inn talk, jolted awake.
"Where'd I put it... Ah, there."
He scribbled furiously with a golden pen, then handed the paper over.
"What's this?"
"Letter of introduction in my name. Take it to the Noble Guild Bank—they'll front you some funds. Expand as you like."
What...? Investment? Just like that? Why?
Bertrand alternated stares between the letter and marquis.
"Th... thank you. But... why go this far for me? The monster purge was just my job."
"Sure, grateful for that, but I saw your potential. Bold drive like yours is rare these days. My eye for people never fails."
"Ah, yeah..."
"Aaaand wait—one sec. Where is it...?"
Pacing before the golden bookshelf, the marquis pulled out a thick, worn notebook with frayed corners.
"This. Take it and read."
"What is it?"
"Sixty years of my management know-how."
"Thank you—wait, what? Why give me something this precious?!"
"Don't need it anymore. Wanted to pass it on, but my sons lack the knack. Since I met you—and you're this club's savior—perfect fit."
Stunned by the unexpected windfall, Bertrand just blinked dumbly. The marquis laughed heartily at his foolish face and called the manager.
Without asking, he ordered drinks and snacks. Uncorking an outrageously expensive bottle, he filled glasses for Bertrand and Celereja, chattering excitedly with tips galore: inn basics, room amenities by grade, double-bookkeeping to dodge audits, bribing officials discreetly... legally, squeezing contractors without getting scammed.
Vivid advice from the marquis's status, experience, and savvy. Bertrand toasted nonstop, absorbing every word.
Nearly two hours after entering the office, they finally parted from the marquis.
"Staying a few more days? On the house."
"Thanks, but can't keep the inn shut long."
"Mm... Yeah, self-employed curse. One day off and you're uneasy."
The marquis nodded sympathetically and shook hands—gripping firmly with both.
"Next time, free stay again."
He promised a quick visit to the inn for "details." Details on what...? And that Bertrand reminded him of his younger self.
Bertrand piggybacked the passed-out Celereja—one drink and she was gone—back to the hotel.
Reflecting on the marquis en route: Strange connection. Never crossed my mind, but he remembered me, we bump into each other by chance, and now all this help.
But... "Even dogs won't eat a merchant's shit." He's generous, sure, but there's an angle. Poison or boon? Who knows.
Anyway... expansion. Been mulling branches vaguely, no solid plan. But seeing this club and talking to him crystallized it some. Sort it out calmly back home.
The suite evoked a famed noble's mansion—lavish, spacious enough for their seven plus one dog, utterly comfortable. The terrace's private pool stole the show: step in, and the sea stretched unobstructed.
Kekers Marquis... What wild ideas swirl in that head of yours...
Bertrand tried laying Celereja on the bed. But the "dead-to-the-world" saintess clamped his neck tight.
"Bertrand's room."
"Huh? You were awake?"
"Bertrand's room."
Her tone chilled him to the bone. Overpowered, he carried her to his picked room—a solo bed setup.
"Lock the door."
She directed from his back. He complied; she pointed at the bed.
"Bed."
The staff trickled back near midnight. Francois and Pelle, fresh from salon and wine bar, flopped tipsily on the sofa, faces flushed. Nails painted wild colors, glittering faux gems atop.
"Pretty, right...?"
"Yeah..."
They admired spread fingers, slurring through tangled tongues.
Exhausted Kali from tagging along rested his chin on Francois's thigh, blinking sleepily.
"Waaah...!"
"Ugh, Della-unnie! Quit crying already!"
Commotion outside—I Idwild, Della, Marim burst in. Della's eyes swollen from heavy tears; Idwild's face grim, arms full of paper bags.
"Idi's a total idiot! Dumbass slime!"
"Sorry, Della... Never saw that hand coming..."
"Be honest! You can't even play blackjack and went all-in!"
Della railed; Idwild sweated apologies. Della welled up again.
"What happened...? Why...?"
Francois staggered up—barely lifted her butt before flopping back.
"Idi blew all our money at the casino... Bragging she could win, so we swapped bracelets to max coins and..."
"Just for fun... snowballed... hehe..."
"You laughing?! Master has to cover this... what now..."
Silent Marim giggled, poking Della's shoulder. Della turned; Marim revealed hidden handful of orange coins—worth ten gold each.
"Kyaaah!! Where'd you get these?!"
"Idi-unnie got fleeced so bad, I cleaned 'em out too. Hiding cards up sleeves. No wonder the long sleeves in that heat."
"Marim!"
"Marim..."
Della and Idwild hugged her tight. Pelle snorted.
"Phew... Late-night snacks safe..."
Beaming Idwild unpacked bags on the table: snacks, booze bottles.
"Not sleeping yet, right...?"
Francois eyed Pelle.
"More drinks okay, Pelle...?"
"Probably..."
They gathered, setting the table. Della scanned shut doors for Bertrand and Celereja.
"Where are they? Huh? This door's locked. Weird."
She twisted the handle. Idwild shuffled over.
"Lemme see... I'll open it..."
Pushing Della aside, Idwild grabbed—and yanked back like it was red-hot iron.
"Gyaah!! So hot...!!"