Chapter 49
The traditional model of wealth could be expressed in two words: succession and inheritance.
Whether royalty or nobility, wealth was something passed down from the previous generation, and the lifelong goal was to hand that wealth down intact to one’s sons. Because both status and riches were transmitted within the framework of succession and inheritance, it was nearly impossible for those not born of the right blood to acquire wealth. Even if one was born with the right blood, the same held true for those who failed to receive their proper inheritance.
But lately, cracks had appeared in that solid wall of wealth, and there were those who had wedged themselves into those gaps. A defining characteristic of these people was their tendency to ignore convention and law.
Simon’s gaze drifted toward the man leaning back in the seat of honor.
Sitting there was a man who had personally torn the words ‘convention’ and ‘law’ out of his own life.
A man who had rejected the Academy, where every noble enrolled, and instead descended into the gutters. A man who would never be satisfied until he had crawled up the tower with bloodied hands to reach the very summit.
Oscar sat with his back against the chair, a cigarette between his lips.
Several buttons of his shirt were already undone, and empty liquor bottles stood in a line around him. Though hidden by the ornate table, one of his legs was likely crossed arrogantly over the other thigh.
“Your Excellency, thank you so much.”
The man who had entertained Oscar and secured a contract from him bowed so deeply his head nearly touched the table, despite being old enough to be Oscar’s uncle.
“I will never forget Your Excellency’s grace.”
Oscar gave a short, cynical laugh at those words.
“Grace? Let’s not call it that. Isn’t this just a deal that benefits us both?”
At that, the man who had been bowing raised his head with a smile. He then excused himself for a moment and stepped out of the room.
Simon watched the man’s movements with only his eyes before looking back at Oscar.
“…….”
His mood was definitely foul. All day, Oscar had seemed strangely on edge. It wasn’t excitement. It was the feeling of something incredibly bothersome and irritating occupying a corner of his mind.
Simon quietly lowered his gaze to check the time.
Fortunately, the day was drawing to a close.
Once the man returned, Simon planned to naturally intervene, end the gathering, and head back to the manor.
He didn’t know what was weighing on Oscar’s mind, but he figured his master simply needed time—whether to resolve it internally or to eventually call for Simon and issue an order.
However, there was one thing Simon had overlooked.
It was the fact that those who wedged themselves into the cracks of wealth tended to ignore convention—and the man who had just left the room was exactly that type of person.
The man who had excused himself was waiting for someone with a flushed face, while his secretary looked troubled.
“Marquis Reinhardt’s aide explicitly said to keep things strictly to business today.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
As the man gave a dismissive answer, the secretary pressed closer, trying to persuade him again.
“Everything ended on a good note. Is there any need to do this now?”
The man lit a cigarette and smirked.
“In all my time getting to where I am, I’ve never seen a man who hates being entertained. Ended on a good note? Don’t make me laugh.”
“…….”
“This is only the beginning. And for that, you need things like this.”
He grinned lewdly and waved toward someone behind the secretary. When the secretary turned around, several glamorous beauties were walking across the elegant hotel lounge.
The man thought to himself:
Business is ultimately done by people. And there is no animal in the world as irrational as a human being. How many times had he given and received such entertainment on his way up? If he could find a woman to suit the Marquis’s taste tonight, it would be a harvest as great as the contract he’d just signed.
The secretary stepped back a few paces as if giving up, and the man turned back toward the room where Oscar waited.
A strange fear, and a contradictory sense of thrill, surged through his body. The more it did, the more he puffed out his chest and smiled with feigned ease. He knocked on the door before his fear could turn into hesitation.
“I’m coming in.”
He opened the door.
The moment he entered, Simon, who had been waiting for the right timing to make their exit, cursed inwardly. They were just about to say their goodbyes and leave; he felt like cracking the man’s skull open to see what he was thinking.
While Simon rubbed his face in annoyance, a line of women followed the man inside.
They were women of various styles, as if to offer a choice for any preference. Not only were their hair colors different, but their physiques varied as well.
Simon, forgetting to even breathe, shifted his eyes to look at his master.
“…….”
Oscar, who had been lounging lazily while smoking, had his gaze fixed on a single point. Simon felt the loose atmosphere around him suddenly tighten, like a predator spotting its prey. Oscar didn’t even seem to be breathing.
Unlike Simon, who took this as a dangerous sign, the host took it as an excellent one.
See? Nobody hates this.
He instantly identified where Oscar’s gaze had landed. He had expected the Marquis to prefer the glamorous beauties, but his eyes were fixed on the most plain and unremarkable woman among them. Well, what did it matter? He smiled broadly as he pushed the woman forward.
“Tonight belongs to Your Excellency. If the night is too short, I’ll find a way to stretch it out for you, so please, I hope you are satisfied.”
The woman who had been pushed forward blushed.
When Oscar, who had been staring at her intently, put the cigarette back in his mouth, Simon stood up.
“I’ll clear the room, Your Excellency.”
Simon bared his teeth at the man who had done something he wasn’t asked to do, intending to usher the women out.
“It’s fine, Simon.”
“…?”
Caught off guard, Simon turned his head. Oscar was leaning his head against the back of the chair with a languid smile. He murmured, sounding somewhat weary.
“I suppose it’s about time I blew off some steam properly.”
Simon’s expression turned skeptical, but his master was not a man who cared for the opinions of others.
“Then, have a wonderful time, Your Excellency!”
The man who brought the women rejoiced and quickly led the others out. At that point, Simon had no choice but to leave as well.
Thus, only the Marquis and the woman remained in the vast room.
The woman, whose wavy brown hair fell to her waist, tentatively raised her eyes to look at the Marquis.
The Marquis von Reinhardt she had heard of was even more than she had imagined. Photographs didn’t capture even half of his actual presence. It wasn’t just a matter of looks; there was a unique aura about him that couldn’t be felt in a picture.
Occupying the massive chair all by himself, he was sprawled out arrogantly with the back of his head resting against the frame. As he gazed at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes and slowly smoked his cigarette, he looked bored—or perhaps as if he were enduring something.
Then, the Marquis lowered his gaze from the ceiling and stared at her.
“What are you standing there for? Shouldn’t you do your job?”
His low, deep voice felt like it was licking at her ear. She approached him as if possessed. The closer she got, the more she felt like she was walking toward a dark sea of unknown depth. Even though she didn’t know what lurked within and was certain she would drown if she fell in, there was something about him that made it impossible to look away.
His jawline, which looked as if it had been carved with a sharp chisel, his high bridge of his nose, and his full lips that stirred illicit thoughts—combined with his unbuttoned shirt and disheveled hair—gave off an intensely sensual atmosphere.
On the other hand, his thick neck with prominent veins, his Adam’s apple, and the solid muscles visible beneath his shirt were primal, carrying the faint scent of sweat.
Oscar.
He exuded an indescribable contradiction, and that contradiction made him perfect.
Out of everyone, she was the one who would have this man tonight.
A chilling thrill spread through her body, and something simmered in her lower belly.
She stopped just a step away from him.
Their eyes met.
The moment she looked directly into those blue eyes—startlingly transparent and cold—she felt something frigid slide down her spine.
She hunched her shoulders and lowered her head in an instinctive, unthinking reflex. Her brown hair spilled forward, draping over her shoulders.
It was immediately after that Oscar, who had been watching her with cold, heartless eyes, stood up from his seat.
He rose like a shadow—without a sound, without a tremor—and approached the woman who looked as if she were trying to shrink back and retreat. Then, like a predator biting into a neck, he gripped the back of her head and tilted his own.
