Chapter 90
***
“Yes, of course. Actually, when I heard that Your Grace would be visiting, I spent quite some time thinking about it.”
“Were you wondering how to persuade me?”
“Mm… not exactly! Well, I can’t say that thought never crossed my mind, but… I was more focused on where the greater profit might be.”
Greater profit, is it.
Dante let out a quiet, amused laugh.
Though Delarube traded in many places, the one who had brought them the greatest profit so far was none other than the royal family.
And yet, she dared to say this in front of him. Everyone in the business world already knew that relations between the royal family and the Duke were… less than cordial.
Which meant—she was openly admitting she was weighing the royal family and Dante on the same scale.
“Interesting. I heard from Mr. Twain that you were looking for investors.”
“Well, if I were simply desperate for investment, I wouldn’t have gone as far as asking Your Grace to come all this way. I do have quite a few blind funds lying around, you know?”
Dante let out a dry chuckle. Is this young woman bold and capable… or just reckless?
“You’re remarkably straightforward, President Lucia.”
“Well, if I don’t show at least a bit of my hand, people will just call me a sly little girl, won’t they?”
Her smile was bright and confident, her eyes gleaming with the sharp instinct of a seasoned businesswoman.
“Then I hope your deliberation pays off,” Dante replied.
Lucia’s lips curved once more into a knowing smile.
A moment later, the employee who had escorted Dante earlier returned, pushing in a tray.
Small round porcelain bottles and matching cups were neatly arranged on the table.
“I’m sure Mr. Twain already told you—Delarube has recently acquired a new brewing technique!”
With a faint smile, Lucia picked up one of the small bottles.
“It’s a liquor made by steaming and fermenting eastern grains. Would you care for a taste, Your Grace?”
“Why not,” Dante agreed with a nod.
“It’s not particularly strong, so even those who don’t usually enjoy drinking will find it pleasant.”
Lucia quickly poured a small amount into a delicate porcelain cup, then placed it before Dante with a courteous gesture, inviting him to taste it.
He lifted the cup, examining its shape—it was low and rounded, quite unlike the tall glasses used for wine or whiskey.
“The cup’s design is rather curious.”
“Yes, in the East, that’s how they traditionally drink it. Since we were already learning the brewing method, I purchased a few of their cups for testing as well.”
Dante nodded faintly and lowered his gaze.
The golden liquor shimmered softly as he tilted the small cup, easily grasped with just three fingers.
He brought it to his lips and took a slow sip.
A faint sweetness lingered beneath a rich grain aroma—unfamiliar yet delicate.
Not the same sweetness Riena used to like… but still pleasant.
“And? What do you think?” Lucia asked eagerly.
“It’s certainly different from Western spirits or wine. Clear, smooth… and not too strong.”
“In the East, they call it Sinseonju—‘Liquor of the Immortals.’ It’s said to be a noble drink shared by those who commune with the heavens despite being human.”
Dante gave a quiet laugh.
“A good product to market to the royal family and the upper class.”
“Exactly. Perfect for those seeking rest and retreat from the complexities of high society.”
He set the cup down gently and curved his lips into a languid smile.
“So, it seems you’ve already found your answer to that dilemma you mentioned earlier.”
“Well, that depends on the direction Your Grace chooses. My decision will follow yours.”
Lucia smiled brightly, as if to say the choice is yours now.
And Dante—who had already finished evaluating her—found himself quietly impressed.
She was bold, a bit arrogant perhaps, but clearly capable enough to run a company.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
If handled properly, someone like her could prove loyal—and useful.
And given her family’s noble standing and close ties with the royal family, she might even serve as a valuable informant.
“Name your terms,” Dante said slowly.
“You really do prefer getting straight to the point, don’t you, Your Grace?”
Lucia chuckled and rummaged through the desk before pulling out a document.
“Honestly, I’m not the type to be satisfied with royal contracts alone. But at the same time, I can’t exactly abandon the prestige that comes from dealing with them. So, I can’t cut ties entirely.”
Dante, well accustomed to paperwork, read through the document while listening to her explanation, occasionally nodding.
“At least for now,” she added with a smile. “Of course, if Your Grace can promise to compensate me for the lost prestige and profit, that’s another story.”
At that, Dante tilted his head.
“Rarity is key. If I were to market this as a new, exclusive liquor available only at my resort…”
Sensing his interest, Lucia’s eyes gleamed shrewdly.
“Of course, Your Grace! I can promise it will be supplied only to your resort.”
“The royal family might be… displeased. Are you sure you can handle that?”
Offering something the royal family had purchased for generations to a newly established duke’s enterprise—
the mere thought would certainly bruise royal pride.
“I was taught that any true businessperson must take risks like this from time to time. Besides,” she smiled, “this winery belongs entirely to me now.”
Dante gave a soft laugh and nodded.
“Very well. I’ll proceed with you, President Lucia. Send the detailed contract to Florian.”
It had already been three days since he returned to the capital.
Riena thought she could finally relax—but instead…
“Rena, do you have any idea how mortified I was?”
“…Yes.”
The polite reply slipped out by habit.
Riena avoided Sharon’s sharp, accusing stare and gave a sheepish smile. Once again, she found herself sitting squarely in the hot seat.
“Don’t tell me your landlady knows too?”
“No? Probably not. She’s not exactly the most perceptive person…”
Snorting, Sharon crossed her arms, then immediately began her scolding.
“Honestly! If you were going to do that, at least move the car! That rare, flashy car parked right in front of your house—did you really think no one would notice just because the lights were off?”
“Sharon, please… can you not raise your voice?”
Riena’s face turned crimson.
“And you’ve got it all wrong. Nothing happened! I was just startled and let him in for a moment, that’s all.”
Lies came far too easily now. Excuses too. And every time, her conscience pricked painfully—but what else could she say?
Sharon’s eyes widened in disbelief. She even started pointing.
“That’s exactly what sounds suspicious! What were you two doing in the middle of the street to begin with? What kind of person panics and hides inside the house when someone walks by?”
Riena flailed her hands, panicked.
“I swear, nothing happened…!”
But Sharon only snorted again, clearly unconvinced.
Normally, she might have let it slide—but today she was unusually persistent. And given the circumstances… Riena couldn’t blame her.
After all, Sharon was perceptive—too perceptive.
Of all people to find out… why did it have to be Sharon?
Riena let out a deep sigh and hesitated before changing the subject.
“…Sharon, do you happen to know a man named Henry Bailey?”
Sharon blinked, tilting her head.
“Huh? The navy guy? I mean, not really. I’ve just heard of him through… a few people.”
She stopped herself before saying the lady at the flower shop, and shrugged.
“Why do you ask?”
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, her tone a mix of excitement and suspicion.
