Chapter 120
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 120
"We’ll soon find out who stole it. I’ve already dispatched investigators. As for the rest..."
Jeremia’s mind drifted to the current state of the Listerwell family. Harriet had been disowned and cast out without a single coin, all because she had supposedly impersonated Bella and sparked a scandalous mess. "Unilaterally," as Cedric had put it.
Cedric seemed to be firmly on Harriet’s side, but Jeremia intended to maintain a neutral perspective for now.
"I’ll have to cast out some bait to see which Listerwell is the problem."
She was no longer a woman ruled by sentiment. She was a member of the Imperial Family, calculating to the point of coldness.
* * *
After deciding to invest her surplus funds, Harriet began scrutinizing the newspapers more carefully. She even turned her attention to the strange items sold at street stalls.
She hadn't paid much notice before, but it turned out the world was full of people trying to start businesses with all sorts of peculiar ideas. To put it kindly, they were eccentrics or dreamers; to be less generous, they were little more than swindlers.
A man named Morris Declan was one of them.
"Listen to this! How many merchant ships have sailed the Siland Sea since ancient times? Countless! And many of them sank in storms. All those precious goods they carried are still down there, sitting on the seabed without an owner!"
He sat at an outdoor cafe table under an awning, prattling on to a stranger who hadn't asked for his life story. The tea in his cup had long since gone cold, and his clothes were frayed at the edges.
The kind-hearted middle-aged man sitting next to him was unable to bring himself to rudely cut the fellow off. He wore an awkward smile, though his eyes remained entirely unconvinced.
"That may be true, but what can be done? No one can retrieve them."
"Exactly! That’s precisely the problem, isn't it?"
"Pardon?"
"If only we could retrieve them, it would be a fortune! A massive windfall!"
The middle-aged man’s expression grew even more strained.
But Morris, seemingly thrilled by his own logic, pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, smoothed it out, and continued.
"That’s why I’m preparing to launch this very business. A 'treasure ship explorer,' you could say. Here is the plan."
The moment the words 'treasure ship' left his mouth, the middle-aged man seemed to give up on having a rational conversation. He simply smiled and nodded.
"According to my theory, this venture requires two salvage ships, sturdy chains, and skilled divers. We’ll position the ships on either side, and the divers will descend to the sunken vessel with grappling hooks."
"It would take quite a while to reach those depths. Even the most skilled diver can’t hold their breath for more than five minutes."
"Ah! I’m not some wild fantasist. Of course, ships lost in the deep sea are out of the question. But ships that sank near coastlines with many reefs? Those have a real chance, I tell you!"
Harriet, listening from a nearby table, let out a small, quiet laugh.
How would he even navigate a salvage ship into shallow waters filled with reefs?
But Morris continued his earnest explanation, pointing at the diagram on his paper.
"I’m actually a former diver from Wesca! You know how famous Wesca’s seafood is, right? That’s all brought up by divers, and my friends are incredibly skilled."
"I see."
"With the divers secured, all we need now are the salvage ships. That’s why I’m looking for investors. Sir, might you be interested in this venture?"
"No. I’m quite penniless."
The middle-aged man, who looked perfectly well-off, drew a hard line there.
Perhaps fearing he’d be entangled in more nonsense if he lingered, he abandoned his unfinished coffee and rose from his seat.
"It was a pleasure talking to you. Have a good day."
"The pleasure was all mine! If you ever change your mind, just look for Morris Declan around here! Hahaha!"
Morris waved cheerfully at the man who was clearly fleeing. Whether he didn't notice the man’s desperation to leave or simply didn't care was anyone's guess.
Even after his audience left, Morris continued to nod and rub his chin while studying his plan. He seemed genuinely serious about it, in his own way.
Harriet watched him for a moment, then rose and took the seat opposite him.
Morris looked up in surprise, but Harriet offered a sweet smile.
"May I buy you a cup of coffee?"
"Why... that would be most welcome!"
Harriet signaled a waiter and ordered a fresh coffee for Morris. Then, she subtly glanced at the drawing in his hand.
"I was sitting nearby, so I couldn't help but overhear your proposal, sir."
"Sir? Please, call me Morris. And you, young lady... you look like a noble at first glance..."
"I am merely a minor noble; the class difference isn't so great. My name is Harriet Listerwell. Regardless, I’ve found myself quite interested in your business, Mr. Morris."
At her words, Morris’s eyes sparkled.
"Really?"
Had he been putting on a brave face despite the constant dismissals, or was he a swindler putting on an act to fleece a naive young woman?
"However, I have a few concerns. If you can address them and bring me a revised business plan, I would be willing to consider an investment."
Harriet pointed out several flaws she had noted while eavesdropping.
She questioned how he planned to stabilize salvage ships in reef-heavy waters, the specific scale of the vessels required, the maximum weight they could lift, the depth limits of the operation, and whether there were ways to extend the divers' underwater time.
"As you know, Mr. Morris, this business requires a significant investment. No investor wants to see their capital sink. Please, show me a more detailed plan."
If he were merely a fraud or a daydreamer, he would have been flustered by her technical demands. Instead, he beamed, looking as if he’d been given an exciting new challenge.
"Understood! This is actually just a preliminary draft, you see. I was already planning to refine the very points you mentioned. Just give me a month. I’ll draw up a perfect plan and show it to you!"
"I look forward to it. Once your plan is ready, please submit a request for an audience to the Fellon Estate. I will reply with a date and time for us to meet."
Morris’s excited face suddenly stiffened.
"Pardon? The... Fellon Estate?"
"Yes. Address it to Harriet Listerwell of the Fellon Estate."
"Yes, yes! Oh... I apologize for not recognizing you. I didn't realize you were a lady from such a distinguished house..."
"I am not of the Fellon bloodline myself. Regardless, I’ll be waiting."
Harriet smiled and rose.
To any observer, she might have looked like a foolish girl being taken in by a con artist. But she hadn't approached Morris with the same whimsy she’d felt when buying that "useless" land in Chadbury.
If only sunken ships could truly be salvaged, just as he claimed...
There was a specific sunken ship she desperately wanted to retrieve. A truth she yearned to confirm.
* * *
While Harriet looked toward the future and sought new ventures, Bella was busy trying to drag her back down as the 'Scandal Maker of High Society.'
Her attempt to slander Harriet to Jeremia had been a low-stakes gamble—good if it worked, no loss if it didn't. She couldn't guarantee the outcome of that particular seed.
To be certain of Harriet's ruin, she needed a weakness.
Even the smallest crack will do. If you exaggerate it enough, you can turn a saint into a villainess.
No one in the world was without a flaw.
The easiest way to find one was to bribe or threaten those in the target's inner circle. The servants working in a mansion were always the easiest prey to snatch.
Bella didn't even have to dirty her own hands for this.
"Alright, alright, stop crying! It’s not even a difficult task, is it?"
A thug hired by Bella tried to "comfort" the sniffling woman across from him. But the woman found no relief in his words.
"If I do that, I’ll be in serious trouble. Countess Fellon is as sharp as a blade!"
"That’s none of my business. What matters right now is that I have your sister. She borrowed 40,000 Dirham from me and hasn't paid back a single coin."
"So please, just wait one month! I’ll get the money...!"
"I’ve never met anyone who says that and actually delivers."
The man leaned forward, a pitying expression on his face, and began to coax her in a low, oily whisper.