Previously
Cordelia's aunt reminds her to conceal any signs of her illness and reveals that Jonathan's parents have summoned her for wedding discussions. A violent brawl erupts when cousin Dorea returns and maliciously exposes that Cordelia sold medicinal herbs in town, leading to their aunt beating Dorea.
“Cordelia, remember.”
Her mother whispered, eyes burning with a feverish glow.
“You must take this medicine for the rest of your life. Then you won’t be in pain. Promise me. You must never tell anyone about our illness. Do you understand?”
The little girl looked down at the round black pill, nodded, and hesitated before asking. What about you, Mama?
Her mother stayed silent for a moment, then smiled.
“I don't need it.”
Three days later, her mother’s body washed ashore at a lake outside town.
The town watch claimed she had ended her own life, unable to bear the pain of her illness. Recalling her serene smile from that day, perhaps it was true. But Cordelia knew better now.
Her mother had been murdered by the love she bore. Her father might not have killed her with his own hands, but in the end, it was betrayed and lost affection that had drowned her.
That lake was the very place where her mother had first met her father as a maiden.
Why had a woman who warned her never to believe in love returned to the place where her first love was born?
Why on earth?
***
Harper Marguerite sat in the middle of a foul-smelling tavern, legs trembling violently under the table.
He felt lucky today. If he won this hand, he could finally enjoy some fine liquor and meat, and perhaps even have a proper tailcoat tailored.
Having surrendered his valuable clothes, shoes, cane, and watch to the pawnshop, lost all the money he had borrowed, and grown old so that his once-handsome face had lost its luster, his appearance was thoroughly shabby. With neither money, youth, nor looks, it had been ages since he could indulge in the skirt-chasing he loved so much, making his life feel utterly miserable.
Fuck, how did my life end up like this?
Still, the brat of a daughter he had raised would be married off soon, and the bride price ought to be quite handsome. Once he got his hands on that money, perhaps he would pack up and head elsewhere.
Having introduced himself over the years as the second son of a noble family who lost his father early, a world traveler, or an impoverished musician—running petty cons and seducing women to live off their coattails—he had luckily succeeded in wooing and marrying the only daughter of a wealthy family in a colony far beyond the reach of his foul reputation.
While his terrifying father-in-law was alive, he had stayed quiet, but after the old man died, life became quite comfortable. By then, he had paid no heed to his sick wife or young daughter, busying himself only with squandering the wealth. That was, until he blew through the entire fortune.
Given the mountain of gambling debts, accumulated arrears, and grudges left in his wake, he would have fled long ago. Yet the reason he had ultimately returned to his dead wife's estate after all these years was simple: his daughter had come of age and was old enough to marry.
Naturally, it was never out of ordinary fatherly love or a moral sense of duty. The girl was a gold mine he had waited on for years. The Devillers were one of the wealthiest families in the region, so who knew how much money would spill into his lap?
Even before bankrupting his wife’s family, he knew better than anyone that buttering up nobles and picking their pockets was the most lucrative path. Frankly, no one understood this better than he did. He had spent his entire life swindling others, after all.
Harper clicked his tongue. He had to look presentable for the wedding, at least. Should he borrow more from the pawnshop? Fuck, no matter how hard he looked, there wasn’t a dime to be found. Should he write another letter to his future son-in-law? No. If the fellow called off the engagement, all this effort would go down the drain.
Shaking his leg, he spat on the floor and flipped his card. Just as his flushed face brightened with triumph, the tavern's wooden door swung open and shut. Meanwhile, Harper burst into loud laughter, frantically raking in the coins on the table.
“Hahaha! Look at this! Today’s my lucky day! Mine!”
Harper crowed like a turkey showing off its plumage, laughing with a wet, grating rattle in his throat, before he finally realized the tavern had fallen unnervingly silent. As he blinked and turned his head, gentlemen dressed in black suits and bowler hats clamped down firmly on his shoulders.
When their eyes met, the gentleman grinned, revealing a flash of a gold-capped canine.
“Well now, Mr. Harper? Shall we have a quick word?”
As the pale-faced man was half-carried, half-dragged out of the tavern, the onlookers who had held their breath began to murmur among themselves.
“That fellow's finally getting done in today.”
“Are those the rumored collectors from the Raven Bank? The money fiends?”
“No different from a murder of crows tearing into a corpse. Utterly vicious bastards.”
“They say there isn't a corner of the world without one of their branches.”
Don't you know the saying?
“Even if you die and tumble into hell, the crow gentlemen will hunt you to the bottom of the pit. They're grim reapers, pure and simple!”
“W-Who are you people!”
Panting, Harper tumbled into the corner of an alley. As he scrambled backward, the man rubbing between his eyebrows lit a cigarette and blew out a long puff of smoke. Only the crimson ember flickered against the heavy shadow masking his face. With utter nonchalance, he nudged the pouch of gold coins he had taken from the gambler with the tip of his boot.
“Count it.”
“W-Where are you from? Did Patrick send you? Or was it that old hag Crisha…”
“Ha, borrowed from so many places you can't even tell?”
Clicking his tongue, the man sighed and spoke with mild civility.
“Look here, Mr. Harper. Just because it's been five years doesn't mean you can look down on our reputation. If you borrow money, you pay it back.”
Staring up at the faintly rueful smile as if under a spell, Harper hiccuped. Was today his dying day? Taking in that unpleasant gold-capped canine and the pitch-black attire, he could no longer fool himself about the man's identity.
“G-Gold-Tooth Vincent?”
The professional smile vanished from the man's face. Delicate despite his looks, he detested the foul moniker he had earned on the job. To be precise, that cruel nickname wounded him. And he usually repaid such slights double, but he was working at the moment.
“Then I needn't explain further. Now, just as the letter you received a week ago stated, we expect you to pay the five thousand rubles right this instant. More precisely…”
“A hundred and fifty-seven rubles.”
“You need only pay four thousand eight hundred and forty-three rubles, then. Well? We gave you notice several times. Have you prepared the funds?”
Eyes darting about for an escape route, Harper choked on his breath when he met the gaze of the man politely clasping his hands together, that troublesome gold tooth gleaming. Swallowing hard, he slowly shook his head.
“I-I'm sorry. If you could just give me a little more time…”
“Hah, what a headache.”
Clicking his tongue, the man seemed genuinely regretful. Yet despite his apparent reluctance, everyone knew none were more ruthless than these collectors when circumstances forced their hand. Swallowing dryly, Harper crawled forward like a dog and grabbed the hem of the man's trousers.
“S-Spare me. Please? I'll pay you back soon, I swear!”
“The promissory note is already six months overdue. Look here, my debtor friend. I'm a very busy man myself.”
The man, Vincent, pressed the tip of his tongue against his gold tooth in irritation.
“Our boss has a truly dreadful temper. Because of people like you, I'm burning through my own nerves rushing across two continents. Fuck, it's not like I'm the one who borrowed the bloody money.”
Strictly speaking, they were the ones who took the loan, yet the ones collecting had to go through far more hell. Of course, the interest on Raven Bank's unsecured loans was several times higher than an ordinary bank's—extremely steep, in truth—but hadn't that been clearly stated on the documents before signing?
Why keep whining over terms both parties agreed to? As Vincent’s magnificent, glorious superior had put it: if they don't have the means to pay, tell them to sell their flesh. If stripping them from head to toe, harvesting every scrap of hide and viscera still fails to yield coin, then such a person is worth less than livestock and deserves no place in this world. What a truly beautiful personality. Well, that was why he ran a loan-sharking outfit.
“What the boss hates most is overdue interest. I barely managed to stop him from coming in person.”
“U-Ugh, please.”
“If that person had come himself, you'd have lost at least a limb by now.”
As Harper gasped in terror, Vincent chuckled. Aren't you lucky?
He meant it sincerely. His pretty-faced, foul-tempered master had been ready to dash across the empire of Katysha all the way to Jeneca, a trip taking a solid week, shouting that the fools at the Jeneca branch were slacking off and letting his money slip away.