His expression, which had seemed so cold and chilly, changed in an instant.

Roen was dazed by his captivating smile that made her heart flutter.

‘So that’s what he looks like when he smiles.’

As she stared at him entranced, Jean frowned again.

Realizing she had been staring at him stupidly, she quickly composed her expression.

“It’s useless now. Marian, throw that rag of paper in the trash.”

At Jean’s command, Marian looked at Roen, as if asking for her consent.

“Please do, Marian.”

As Marian left the reception room with the water-soaked envelope, Roen felt relieved.

In truth, she had been uncomfortable with the idea of taking her client’s letter back.

In any case, she had conveyed the contents of the love letter to Jean, and although the letter itself was destined for the trash, it remained in the mansion. She had fulfilled her duty.

‘Sigh, why did I do such an unnecessary thing…’

Roen regretted her impulsive action as she recalled the love letter’s dramatic demise in the hot water.

She had simply wanted to see his cold expression crumble.

She wanted to disconcert him after he had dismissed someone’s feelings as garbage and said they smelled like a sewer.

And she had felt quite satisfied when she saw his silver-blue eyes change subtly as she finished the last sentence.

But that satisfaction had lasted only a moment.

She immediately regretted it when he suddenly demanded to see the letter.

“I should be going now. Thank you for your valuable time.”

Roen began putting on her coat that she had taken off earlier.

Meanwhile, Jean merely stared at her with a contemplative expression.

Though Roen was tense under his sharp gaze, she pretended to be calm.

His gaze was incredibly persistent.

And that made her even more nervous.

Because she couldn’t even begin to guess what he was thinking.

Her nervousness made dressing a slow process. It felt as if her muscles had turned into stiff wooden blocks.

“Are you going too?”

“…”

At first, not understanding what he meant, Roen looked up while buttoning her coat.

This time, Jean spoke with unusual impatience.

“I asked if you’re also going to the Recluse’s Forest.”

“Well, sometimes I do accompany clients if they wish, but…”

“So you are going.”

“Well, yes.”

“Don’t come. And make sure your client doesn’t show up either.”

He clearly stated his intention not to go to the meeting place.

Well, that was something she had known from the beginning.

It seemed unlikely that the prickly and rude Duke of Reushden would receive a love letter and then kindly go to the meeting place to politely reject the sender.

But it was unexpected. Him telling her directly not to come.

It was somewhat different from the personality she had assessed so far.

“I understand your wishes, Your Grace. Then I’ll be on my way.”

Roen greeted him and headed toward the door. She could feel his gaze on her back but deliberately ignored it.

If she stopped and turned around, she felt he might grab her by the nape and bite her neck.

Quickly opening the reception room door and stepping outside, she found the butler Alex waiting.

“Alex, thank you for today. Please tell Marian and the cook that I enjoyed myself.”

“Until we meet again, Miss Simonetta. A carriage has been prepared at the entrance for you.”

“Thank you.”

After exchanging a friendly greeting, Roen began walking down the corridor.

“Your Grace, the carriage to Ranke is ready. You may depart as soon as you finish your meal.”

Before the reception room door closed, Roen’s ears perked up at Alex’s words.

“Ranke?”

Based on Alex’s words, it seemed Jean was planning to visit Ranke, a gentlemen’s social club.

‘Ranke, is it?’

Roen frowned as she wondered why Jean, who had no interest in social circles, would be going to Ranke.

‘Perhaps he needs a woman? That’s the main reason most nobles visit social clubs.’

Supporting this thought was the fact that Ranke was known for its beautiful and seductive “Peirasmos” (a term used for dancers and high-class courtesans working at Ranke).

A wave of displeasure rose within her, causing Roen to frown.

What? So he acts ascetic and pretends to have no interest in women or s*xual desires.

It seemed the Duke was just a man after all.

As she exited the entrance, she saw the carriage Alex had prepared.

Roen’s expression turned serious as she got into the carriage.

“Going to Ranke? I need to contact Ventus immediately.”

Soon, the carriage carrying Roen departed from the Reushden mansion.

* * *

The social club “Ranke” came alive with the darkness of night.

Pleasure and indulgence. Secret deals and conspiracies. And even duels and murders staked on noble pride.

Ranke was the pinnacle of the pleasure district, overflowing with dangerous information and money that moved the continent of Taran.

For this reason, not only the nobles of Adrian but also prominent merchants from across the Taran continent paid enormous membership fees to flock to Ranke.

Especially after the conquest war ended, rumors of gladiatorial matches featuring now-unemployed mercenaries had strengthened Ranke’s position even further.

Ranke had rekindled the continent’s enthusiasm for the dangerous gamble of gladiatorial combat at a time when Taran had become quiet, even boring, after the war.

The excitement was particularly intense with a gladiatorial match scheduled for the national founding day celebration a month from now.

The nobles of the Adrian Empire were willing to stake their lives on victory in the founding day gladiatorial matches.

Perhaps they were so attached to it because it was a tradition that had continued for 200 years.

In short, Ranke knew exactly what would make money.

Additionally, Ranke offered the finest quality alcohol, beautiful dancers, and women who captivated the eyes and hearts of nobles.

The dancers and women of Ranke were called “Peirasmos,” an ancient word meaning “temptation” or “to fall into the devil’s test,” setting them clearly apart from common street women.

The greatest privilege of the “Peirasmos” was that they could choose their clients themselves.

No matter how wealthy or powerful a man might be, he could be rejected if they didn’t find him appealing.

And this fact stimulated men’s desire to conquer. The nobles became more desperate and obsessively fixated.

Thanks to this, Ranke’s reputation and exclusivity grew day by day.

“Boss! Over here.”

As Jean stepped out of the carriage and entered the Ranke building, Sage, who had been waiting for him, greeted him.

Laurel, standing beside Sage, bowed respectfully.

“Why are you so late? I thought my neck would fall off from waiting.”

“Shut that mouth, Sage.”

Laurel scolded Sage for his frivolous behavior.

“I don’t want to be like this either, but we can’t get in without the Boss. Tch, I don’t know why they control access from the front door for such a supposedly great place. Thanks to that, we had to wait without moving. It’s not like they’ve buried Horius’s eyes here.”

Sage grumbled, even letting out a sigh.

“It’s Ranke. A membership social club where the annual fee alone is enormous. Neither you nor I could even dream of entering without the Duke. So behave yourself.”

Laurel warned Sage once more with a sullen expression.

“But I heard the women here are incredibly beautiful. Have you seen them, Boss?”

“No. This is my first time here as well.”

“Really? So you’re not a member here?”

Sage looked serious. He seemed worried they might be kicked out without even getting in, having trusted only in Jean.

“Don’t worry. As long as the Reushden family exists, we’ll always be members here.”

The roots of the information network called Ranke began 200 years ago with the founding of the Adrian Empire.

Initially, it was a group created to eliminate those who rebelled against the empire, but over time, its activities expanded throughout the Taran continent, reaching its current position during the conquest wars.

Considering this, the owner of Ranke must be one of the five founding families of the Adrian Empire.

‘Is the Imperial family of Zonderburgh most likely?’

Jean thought that Emperor Edwin must be the actual owner of Ranke.

Otherwise, Ranke couldn’t possibly control information across the Taran continent so effectively.

Moreover, the fact that they were gathering scattered mercenaries for gladiatorial matches made it even more certain.

‘I don’t understand what Edwin is thinking. The war is over, so why bring in mercenaries?’

Jean frowned as he presented a ring bearing the seal of the Reushden duchy.

The guard who had been standing at the door like an underworld sentinel stepped aside. The door opened, revealing Ranke’s lavish interior.

“My goodness!”

Sage, following behind Jean, began looking around Ranke as if entranced.

“Close your mouth. You’ll catch bugs that way.”

At Laurel’s admonishment, Sage quickly shut his mouth. He laughed at Sage’s innocent reaction.

“Shall we go straight to the basement?”

“No. It’s better to stay here for now. There’s still plenty of time before the match begins.”

The two nodded at Jean’s words.

As they were about to move to find suitable seats, a man suddenly appeared before them.

“I am Ventus, the owner of Ranke. It is an honor to meet the Duke of Reushden.”

Jean scrutinized the man who introduced himself as Ventus with sharp eyes.

He immediately felt wary of this stranger who acted familiar despite never having met before.

“You may not know me, Your Grace, but conversely, there’s no one in the Adrian Empire who doesn’t know you. Even a mere merchant like myself has been eager to meet you.”

Ventus’s reason for welcoming him seemed to be about more than just Jean’s victory in the conquest war.

From the moment Jean entered, the nobles inside Ranke had been watching with undisguised curiosity.

They were clearly interested in verifying the protagonist of the scandal that had shaken the social world.

“The war is already over. There is no sword in my hand.”

His words implied that even though the scandal was unwanted, he would not draw his sword to exterminate the family involved.

Fortunately, Ventus seemed to immediately understand what Jean meant and bowed.

“Indeed. It would be discourteous to respond to a noble lady’s proposal with bloodshed. Your Grace, would you allow me to be your guide today?”

“Isn’t it more important whether you know what I want?”

At Jean’s cold question, a smile appeared on Ventus’s face.

“The door to the basement hasn’t opened yet. So it might be good to look around Ranke before then.”

The “door to the basement” was code for the start of the gladiatorial matches.

He had accurately identified what Jean wanted. Jean nodded at Ventus’s suggestion.

Afterward, Ventus guided Jean through every corner of Ranke.

From the card rooms frequented by nobles to secret rooms where one could meet informants away from prying eyes.

They were able to see even the most secretive places that couldn’t be explored without the owner’s guidance.

“The basement door will open at midnight. Until then, you can relax and enjoy the performances here. I’ll prepare some refreshments for you.”

After guiding Jean’s party to a table with a view of Ranke’s interior, Ventus was about to leave.

“Ventus, I have a question.”