A crashing sound echoed through the room as a vase shattered.
“Lady Adela! Please, calm yourself!”
“Shut up!”
A trembling maid, recently assigned to Adela’s service, tried to soothe her, but the lady of the room—Adela, the future Marchioness of Harkenberg—did not cease her rampage. With her fleshy arms shaking, her face flushed red, she continued to wreak havoc in the room.
“Why! Why, why, why!”
Her hazel eyes, buried in flesh, blazed with fury, and she screamed, shaking her dyed, brittle golden hair.
The windows trembled from the sheer volume of her voice emanating from her enormous body.
“Who do they think I am? I am the future Marchioness!”
“Lady Adela…! It’s dangerous to walk near the shards. Please—”
“Silence!”
Adela silenced the maid’s desperate attempts to calm her with a sharp rebuke.
Her pale skin, strained and reddened, showed thin straps cutting into her flesh, making her resemble a tightly bound ham.
With her husband, Dietrich, away from the mansion, no one was there to stop her angry tirade. Adela continued to pace the room, simmering with rage.
“They all look down on me…!”
She was displeased. Dietrich, who once ardently proposed to her, now left her alone, always away for work. Emilia, who dared to lecture her, though she had kindly married Dietrich, referred to as “Claudia’s leftover.” And the servants, always telling her to emulate Leonora.
(What is it about Leonora? They even gave a common girl a grand name. It’s absurd to compare someone with no education or refinement to me!)
Adela stopped and grabbed her red dress, glaring at it intently.
It was a custom piece made by a familiar merchant while her husband was away, adorned with gold threads, designed to draw attention. A former favorite servant once said, “This dress can only be worn by Lady Adela.”
Yet, upon seeing Adela at breakfast, Emilia had furrowed her brow, as if she were looking at a prostitute, and said, “It’s unseemly. You should learn to be more reserved, like Leonora.”
Adela sensed a cold disdain for a wife who couldn’t keep her husband at home. Her mood ruined, she left the meal early and returned to her room.
Everything has been like that recently. Everyone praised the new, ragged girl—though Adela hadn’t met her, she was sure she was such. Beautiful, pure-hearted, modest, a paragon of a lady. They made it seem like the girl, not Adela, was the young mistress of the house.
(I am the young mistress of this house!)
Adela glared into the void. The idea that the girl was more admired than her was unacceptable. She, with her refinement and mature charm, was far superior to a common child.
(And why is Kai still serving that girl?)
Her irritation extended to her favorite former servant. But Adela quickly dismissed the thought. Kai was kind. He was likely staying with the girl out of a sense of duty, despite her unworthiness.
(Then I must save Kai.)
Adela, the future Marchioness, prided herself on her consideration for even powerless servants. Satisfied with her reasoning, she bit her nails and pondered how to demonstrate her superiority over the girl, open everyone’s eyes, and reclaim her servant.
An idea struck her, and she smirked, calling the frightened maid.
“Bring me pen and paper. I will write to Kai.”
Imagining the delightful future, she flared her nostrils like a contented pig.
***
“Let there be light
In the thawing sky, the misted moon
Gazing up at it, the child of man
In the palm, falls a drop of golden light”
“…Hmm. The contradiction between the moon and gold…”
The girl was troubled. Clutching a quill and notebook, prepared by her servant, she wrinkled her cute nose. Her profile was remarkably beautiful, her black hair shimmering like ebony falling from her shoulders as she looked down. Her skin was as white as snow, her murmuring lips and smooth cheeks resembling delicate roses.
Just then, the carriage jolted slightly, hitting a pebble. But she was too engrossed in her ‘work’ to notice.
“…Golden drops, not blue… hmm…”
After some deliberation, she decided to keep the “golden drops.” She paused, laying down the quill.
“You seem very focused, Lady Leonora,” her servant Kai said, timing his words with her break.
“Writing poetry is admirable for a lady, but you might get carriage-sick if you write too much. Please, take it easy.”
“…Yes. Sorry, Kai.”
Looking slightly abashed, the girl shrugged. Despite her impressive literary talent, she was still just a child in some ways. She set aside the quill and notebook, gazing out the window to rest her eyes, and Kai watched her fondly.
(Lady Leonora is so talented, even in poetry. Is this a hymn to the light spirit? How beautiful and full of faith. Her pure heart must naturally draw out such words.)
Yet, as her future butler, he had to stop her from overindulging. As much as he wanted to hear more of her poetry, he held back, exercising his discipline.
“…Phew…”
Meanwhile, the beautiful girl—actually the money-obsessed boy Leo—thought.
(Oops, I got too absorbed again. I tend to lose myself when it comes to making money.)
Resting his eyes on the scenery outside, he mused. Leo, who worshiped money above all, would never write a poem for spirits. So why was he writing poetry?
He planned to make a fortune by composing lyrics for an opera.
Three days ago, Leo had received a letter from Hanna, the orphanage director, after making a ‘donation’ (sending over his private belongings). This time, the usually formal Hanna had written something close to a complaint.
Apparently, Bruno, accidentally turned into the ‘biggest gang boss’ after a dust explosion incident caused by Lena, was struggling to manage the surge of new followers. Hanna was troubled by the noisy, gaudily dressed children swarming the orphanage.
Reading this, Leo had an epiphany. Large numbers, loud voices, flashy makeup—couldn’t this be turned into a business opportunity? Perhaps, a theater troupe.
In the entertainment-scarce lower town, people flocked to tavern singers and street performers. Leo, who had worked in a tavern, had long thought about tapping into this business area.
The Hanna orphanage children were talented but few in number, and most disliked being in the spotlight. But now, there were children eagerly practicing singing every day. It was an opportunity.
Leo decided to leverage this to start a new business, using the ‘troubled’ children to create a theater troupe.
Driven by potential profit, Leo quickly put his plan into action. He wrote to Hanna, asking her to teach the kids music and began gathering the favorite treats of the bridge guard and tavern buddies for negotiations.
(The location will be under the bridge, thanks to the bridge guard. Ideally, it would be a theater, but this will do. The storyline will be improvised, and the music composed by my tavern friend. Negotiations will follow—and the lyrics are crucial.)
For Leo, a successful opera needed only two things: a standout singer and catchy songs. The singer could be one of the flashy kids. The lyrics, the foundation of the songs, were Leo’s task.
Drunken audiences wouldn’t care about complex plots. What mattered was memorable, singable tunes. Leo, confident in his linguistic skills, especially in praising money, decided to write the lyrics himself.
A money-themed opera might be novel, but everyone loved money. An opera centered on gold coins would be a hit. Leo’s poem depicted a scene of golden coins falling from the sky, a dreamlike introduction.
He aimed to create catchy lyrics, form the main theme, recruit the children, and solicit donations from nobles—envisioning a grand plan.
(Starting a new business is always the most fun part. Ha!)
Leo, grinning widely, was interrupted by Kai.
“Lady Leonora, you seem very happy.”
“Yes. I’m very excited!”
Nodding vigorously, Leo made Kai smile.
“If you’re that eager, Lady Emilia will be delighted to see you.”
“Oh? Ah.”
Realizing Kai thought she was excited to see her grandmother, Leo nodded vaguely. Meeting Emilia, who gave generous allowances, was exciting, but his mind had been on business.
(Oops. I need to focus on Emilia’s birthday, not money.)
Leo reprimanded himself and switched his thoughts away from profit. They were heading to the mansion to celebrate Emilia’s birthday.
Since Claudia’s ‘death’ celebrations had been scarce in the Harkenberg household. But with Leonora found and the occasion coinciding with a day of rest, Adela had sent a letter suggesting they celebrate Emilia’s birthday. She had even arranged a carriage and dress.
Remembering Adela’s thoughtful gestures, Leo mused.
“Lady Adela is very kind, isn’t she?”
Dietrich, called “Claudia’s leftover,” had a wife who turned out to be generous, providing free carriage and dress.
(They said she looked like a pig, but maybe they meant she’s generous.)
Looking forward to meeting her, Leo’s excitement was dampened by Kai’s scowl.
“How can you say that? Lady Adela’s actions are nothing short of harassment. And lying about the start time of the party—no decent person would do such a
thing.”
(Oh? Lying about the time?)
Leo, unaware, looked at Kai in confusion.
“…Kai, did something happen with Lady Adela?”
Kai, still angry, apologized and spoke.
“Lady Adela instructed that the party starts at noon, but I confirmed with the head maid that it starts in the afternoon. If we had arrived at noon, we would have been waiting for hours.”
(That woman is trying to trip me up.)
Leo, mentally noting the situation, nodded at Kai.
“Thank you, Kai. I’ll be careful.”
“We’ll arrive at the mansion shortly. Please rest for a bit.”
As Kai lowered his head, Leo sighed.
(Another nuisance…)
Preparing for the meeting, Leo resumed his elegant facade.
The boy with a heart of gold and a love for money, ready for another battle.
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