ALPL 03

Chapter: 03

Tony hit his forehead on the floor, berating himself for letting greed for money drive him all the way here.

“Your Excellency, I’ll go back and make the deal again. I just had doubts, thinking it might not be genuine!”

A thin wisp of smoke filled the space between them once more.

But if he could avoid the cold, piercing golden gaze, Tony didn’t care at all about the harsh stench of the cigar smoke. With reddened eyes, he shouted:

“The other party has no idea of the item’s value! I… I’m confident that if I offer ten times the money, they’ll sell it!”

Kyars asked with a mocking tone:

“Make the deal again? How do you plan to do that?”

Tony answered immediately:

“I… I know the address!”

It had been six or seven years since the Count of Burck had started requesting large pearls from pawnshops on the outskirts of the province.

Pearls no bigger than the width of a man’s finger.

It was said that if someone brought in pearls of that exact size, even if they turned out to be fake, they would receive a reward a hundred times over. It was a story whispered only among the pawnshop owners, more legend than fact.

But when Tony actually saw a pearl the width of a finger joint, it was hard to believe it was genuine—it was a size no one could have imagined in their lifetime.

And the person who brought it was shabby in appearance. Still, Burck would hardly pay a reward for a fake.

After thinking it through, this was Tony’s plan:

He paid a small amount to verify if the pearl was genuine and took the item. Then he followed the owner to learn their whereabouts, in case he needed to press for a sale later.

To ensure everything went smoothly, he had even sent a notarized document through the Imperial Bank before coming to Burck. Even if he were scolded for a fake, he couldn’t simply let a hundredfold reward slip away as a merchant.

He just hadn’t expected a single loan certificate to put him in such a predicament.

Noble scum—did they sprout from the ground like weeds? The young Count of Burck, barely grown, sat arrogantly like the master of the sky, looking down at Tony.

Old retainers hovered awkwardly around him, while the Count’s hound—standing even closer—exuded a more menacing presence than its master.

With each tick of the clock, Tony’s small-citizen heart shrank further. If someone were to call Tony, a pawnshop moneylender, a mere citizen, some would laugh, some would scold—but in any case…

—Bang!

The silver jewel box with grapevine carvings wobbled and tilted.

Tony couldn’t even lift his head to check its precious contents. The Count’s hound pressed Tony’s palm flat against the floor with its boot, but he couldn’t even cry out.

Kyars ignored the thug-like behavior of his subordinate and concluded:

“There’s no reward since you didn’t purchase the pearl.”

“Eh? Then….”

Tony looked up at him, tears welling in his eyes.

The thought of leaving empty-handed, losing the pearl, made him sick to his stomach—but life came first. The man before him treated his very existence as insignificantly as an ant.

Smoke clouded his vision several times. His future seemed just as hazy, and Tony almost fainted.

Then Kyars spoke, as if granting a favor:

“Instead, I’ll buy Helden Pawnshop, including this pearl and the loan certificate. I’ll pay whatever price you name.”

Tony swallowed hard.

It was an unexpected retirement, but retirement is the right of the living. Tony Zimmermann, who had thought money was everything, learned the value of life here.

“Thank you, Your Excellency. Pl-please… use it for important matters.”

He didn’t have a shred of courage to demand a higher price. He simply wanted to thank Kyars for sparing his life.

“But first…”

A late piece of information followed. His heart, relieved to have found a way out, plummeted again.

Kyars set down his cigar and slowly demanded:

“Ermoli’s address. Give me Luize Henriette Ermoli’s address first.”

He might have given it even if asked for her brother’s address. That insignificant girl didn’t matter.

Tony’s lips opened without hesitation.

He had slept poorly. Having lain his mother’s body on the bed and tried to rest on a hard dining table, it was no wonder.

Luize woke early to wait for the coachman the Count had promised to send. But all morning passed, and no one arrived.

She went outside, pacing the dirt road, and only then realized her house was in a location difficult for a coach to reach.

She hurried up the hill, but no matter how she looked toward the Count’s estate, no coach approached.

The sun had already passed midday and begun tilting westward. Luize grew anxious.

She didn’t think Count Engel would break his promise from the previous evening. So something must have gone wrong. It would be better to go and investigate herself.

The Count’s estate had a different atmosphere at first glance. The usual errands boys were nowhere to be seen, and the servants moved silently through the halls with somber faces.

With no choice, she sought out her sisters, who were crying even more bitterly than Luize had over their mother’s passing.

“Waris? Eirini! What’s happened?”

The fourteen-year-old girl called first ran to Luize and clung to her.

“Teacher, what can we do? Father… Father was taken by the police early this morning!”

Though orphaned young, these girls had grown like greenhouse flowers under the Count’s care. In their shock, they seemed to have completely forgotten Luize’s misfortune.

“Police? How… how did that happen?”

“We don’t know either… There must be some misunderstanding. Right, Teacher?”

Luize couldn’t extract any useful information from the crying girls but couldn’t bear to separate them from herself.

Soon, there was a knock. Opening the door, she saw Count Engel’s eldest son, Pietro.

“Luize, Teacher.”

He gestured, and Luize stepped out of the sisters’ room. In the hallway, alone with Pietro, he awkwardly bowed his head.

“I heard you had come. I am sorry for your mother. Upon hearing the news, I prayed for her to find a peaceful place.”

“…Thank you.”

Luize lowered her head, exhausted.

He had no knowledge of the Count’s promise. Having just returned from military service, the Count’s heir was busy with succession lessons and rarely seen.

It was also difficult to demand an advance from someone just coming of age—especially when his father had been suddenly arrested.

Steeling her aching heart, she asked:

“What happened to the Count? It can’t be anything serious, right?”

The Count was a respected noble and lord of Melk. Yet she found herself hoping he would return for her mother’s funeral—how shameful.

Pietro’s clear eyes shone as he spoke firmly:

“They say a substance was detected in the wine shipped from Engel’s brewery, but there must be some mistake. Please believe me, Teacher. Though the quantity is small, our winery produces wine of exportable quality. We would never engage in such a lowly act.”

Though belief seemed useless now, Luize naturally trusted the Count and the Engel family.

But she also knew the nature of those in power. The ones who had fabricated charges to take Ermoli’s sunny Linz lands—weren’t they exactly those people?

If the upright Count Engel had offended someone among them, both the winery and the Count would be in danger.

Perhaps the Count might not return. Perhaps he could lose his title or lands, like Ermoli.

But that was not a thing she could voice.

“There must be some misunderstanding. The Count will return soon. Pietro, please don’t worry too much.”

Luize forced a weak smile, offering comfort.

As Pietro seemed about to speak again, the door clicked, and the two girls ran out.

“Brother! Father hasn’t been detained, has he?”

His helpless gaze wandered over Luize’s face.

Luize bowed her head in complicated resignation and turned her weary steps away. She selfishly wished, just once more, for the Count to return—for her mother’s sake.