“Phew….”

Standing in front of Father’s office, I let out a sigh without realizing it.

Since the day he returned home and we spoke, there hadn’t been any other conversation, making the thought of meeting him unbearably awkward.

“But I still need to borrow money.”

To be honest, the best person to borrow money from was Father.

Among the people I knew, Count Leon was the only one who had a lot of money and could somewhat be trusted to lend it to me.

‘Surely, he won’t refuse… right?’

I couldn’t stop thinking about how he had completely cut off Rosette’s budget a few days ago. I worried for quite some time, wondering if he might slash my budget as well. In the end, I decided, ‘Whatever happens, happens,’ and knocked on the door.

“It’s Espin. May I come in for a moment?”

“Come in.”

Count Leon, seated at his desk piled high with documents, didn’t even look up as I entered, his eyes fixed on the papers.

We weren’t particularly close to begin with, but today, the atmosphere felt especially cold.

“I have something to say.”

“Go ahead.”

The icy atmosphere made me hesitate, wondering if I should just leave, but I decided to speak anyway. If it worked out, great. If not, I’d find another way.

There was no reason not to say it.

“Please lend me some money.”

“Alright.”

Contrary to my worries, Father nodded readily.

“I haven’t even told you the amount yet.”

“How much?”

“About 300,000 litas.”

Since I had seen a painting sell for 250,000 litas last time, the amounts were only going to get bigger. So, I needed at least 300,000 litas.

“What do you need such a large sum for?”

“I’ll return it in ten days. With interest, if you wish.”

Father stared at me intently.

‘Does he not trust me?’

Well, how could he?

After the Late Countess passed away, Father had been preoccupied with external affairs, while Espin had grown up in the care of the servants. In short, there hadn’t been much time to build a bond between father and daughter.

Moreover, Espin had been known in the original novel as a gullible character who became an easy target for con artists. Even I wouldn’t trust such a daughter.

‘Maybe 300,000 litas is too much.’

As I debated whether to lower the amount, Father spoke.

“Alright. I’ll inform the butler.”

Without asking further questions, Father easily agreed to lend me the money—a sum most families couldn’t lend so lightly.

But there was a condition.

“However.”

“However, is there another condition?”

“You cannot use this money to buy a house, purchase an engagement gift, use it as a dowry, or for independence. Nor can you give it to another man.”

“What?”

What kind of nonsensical conditions were these?

An engagement gift? A dowry? What was he even talking about?

I looked at Father with a puzzled expression, unable to understand what he was saying.

“Ahem. As long as it’s none of those things, you may use it as you wish. After all, there is an inheritance left by the Late Countess—your mother.”

“Oh.”

There was a reason he had agreed so easily.

‘I almost thought we were close for a second.’

For a moment, I had nearly misunderstood and thought we had a good relationship. But it was simply that he was giving me part of the inheritance in advance.

“So, there’s no need to repay it.”

“Alright. That’s good, then. I’ll…”

“That…”

“Do you have something to say?”

Father hesitated, his lips moving as if he were debating whether to speak.

“If you have nothing to say, I’ll take my leave.”

Just as I was about to excuse myself, Father seemed to resolve his inner conflict and spoke with difficulty.

“I heard Grand Duke Holt visited today.”

“It’s nothing significant. Grand Duke Holt has agreed to be my partner for the Imperial banquet.”

“Usually, partners are chosen by those who have romantic feelings for each other. Could it be that you and Grand Duke Holt…?”

“No, absolutely not.”

At my firm answer, Father’s eyes widened slightly.

“It’s due to unavoidable circumstances. There’s no romantic involvement whatsoever.”

“I see. That’s a relief.”

A faint smile appeared on Father’s lips. He set down the pen he had been gripping so tightly that his hand had turned pale. Only now did his hand regain its original color.

***

“Hey, bring in a few more chairs.”

The Viscount was busy counting numbers as he inspected the venue where today’s auction would be held.

Although there were as many seats as the invitations sent out, there was a chance a few extra people might show up after hearing rumors.

“Yes, sir.”

“And spread these people out as much as possible.”

The Viscount handed over a list of names. These individuals were his shills.

The ease with which money was flowing in had only fueled Viscount Monzas’ greed.

Thus, he came up with the idea of using shills to exploit people’s competitive instincts.

Using them, he would drive up the prices. If a lower price was about to be finalized compared to the previous auction, a shill would deliberately bid a higher amount and win the item. Then, they would resell it later at an even higher price—a foolproof plan.

Additionally, to conceal his identity, he had implemented a rule requiring attendees to wear masks starting from this auction.

Since only the auction host and the employees he hired could verify identities, there was no risk of being exposed.

For the Viscount, this business was one without losses.

“Here are the invitations.”

As the auction time approached, people began arriving one by one. The Viscount’s employees meticulously checked each invitation.

“Viscount.”

A noblewoman wearing a mask approached the Viscount and whispered in a low voice.

“How many paintings are left? Please, just tell me honestly.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’d love to tell you, but there are so many paintings that we’re still carefully examining which ones are Melchaski’s works. It’s taking us a lot of time, so I can’t say how many are left.”

The Viscount deliberately hinted to people that this might be the last painting available. By instilling the fear that this could be the final piece, he manipulated their emotions.

Those who fell for the tactic ended up paying even more to acquire the artwork.

“Sigh… Then, is it true that the first auction piece was won by the Duchess of Ameron?”

“I’m not supposed to disclose the buyer’s information, but…”

“Viscount, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please, just a hint.”

“Well… it’s difficult, but…”

The Viscount subtly nodded.

“I knew it.”

The noblewoman’s eyes sparkled. Convinced that owning the same painting as the Duchess of Ameron—who dominated high society—was a must to stay fashionable, the noblewoman became even more determined to win the next auction.

This was all part of the Viscount’s plan. Even before the first auction began, he had approached the Duchess of Ameron to plant the idea.

Thanks to his successful groundwork, the Duchess had become the first buyer, and the rumor had spread, making noblewomen increasingly desperate to win the auctions.

The atmosphere suggested that today’s auction might break previous records.

Smiling contentedly at the sight of the filled seats, the Viscount headed to the preparation room.

“Finally, you’re painting something decent.”

Pressed for time, the Viscount’s younger brother, Orson, had been working tirelessly to finish the paintings, to the point of falling asleep in a corner of the preparation room.

The Viscount nudged him awake with his foot. Groggily opening his eyes, Orson scrambled to his feet upon recognizing his brother.

“Are the paintings completely dry?”

“Yes… I fanned them all night to make sure.”

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Orson replied.

“Good. Get ready to bring them out.”

To minimize the risk of exposure, the Viscount employed only a handful of people, using his brother as much as possible.

Excited by the thought of the fortune he was about to make, the Viscount adjusted his attire and headed to the auction hall.

“Thank you all for participating in today’s auction.”

The seats were filled, and some guests of the attendees were even standing due to the lack of chairs.

“I didn’t expect so many of you. Next time, I’ll prepare more seating. Now, let me present today’s auction piece.”

At the Viscount’s signal, Orson brought out the painting. When he removed the covering cloth, gasps of admiration filled the room.

Watching the reactions, Orson could only manage a bitter smile.