~Chapter 23~
The news of Baldwin and me dancing at the banquet dominated the front pages of several gossip columns.
Baldwin was a man who couldn’t hear. Just as he had said, he couldn’t follow the rhythm.
He simply moved as I led him.
And yet, it was the most enjoyable social dance I had ever experienced.
Baldwin looked only at me. He leaned solely on me.
He moved in the direction I moved, and when I made a mistake, he made it with me.
It felt like we had become one—bound by fate.
And when the music ended—
as I was returning to my seat, Baldwin said something that still lingered in my mind:
[If you need me, just say so. If you want, I’ll let myself be used—at least once.]
Baldwin gave me a quiet smile as I stood there stunned.
The gentle curve of his long eyes was still vivid in my memory.
There must be some kind of magic in Baldwin’s smile—because it makes me feel utterly foolish.
[It’s my way of repaying the kindness you’ve shown me.]
Had I ever truly shown Baldwin any kindness?
All I remembered was making a fool of myself around him.
After that, Baldwin walked away.
That single dance with him had already helped me.
No more desperate, unsavory men came charging at me afterward.
From then on, I was able to have genuine conversations—
with people who truly wanted to speak with me.
It felt like Baldwin remembered a moment I had already erased from my mind.
I couldn’t recall what kindness I had supposedly shown him.
He felt like a gift-bringing fairy who only came to visit once a year—in December.
His words gave me courage.
The belief that someone might be looking at me with goodwill.
“A patron, huh…”
Faces of people who might be willing to help me came to mind.
They might not be strong enough to shield me completely—
But maybe they could form a fence, at least.
I pulled out a sheet of paper.
And I started writing the names of people I’d met over the years, those I’d built connections with:
People who liked me.
People who might believe in me.
Who could they be?
Strangely enough, the first name I wrote was:
‘Baldwin Constantine’
Though we had first met back at the academy, we hadn’t had a deep relationship.
It was only recently that we’d started speaking more frequently.
And yet, he was the first person I thought of.
Maybe… because I trust him.
While Anais was striving to pave a new path for the bank,
someone else was actively destroying theirs.
Egbert, reeking of alcohol, staggered into a new law office.
Now that Genus Vanderas had abandoned the Graham family, he needed a new attorney.
So Egbert sought out the most renowned and capable lawyer operating in the capital.
“Good day, Marquis. Thank you for choosing me. I’m Lorexer Kestra.”
A sharp-featured man greeted Egbert with a stiff expression.
He had dealt with high-ranking clients before, but Marquis Graham was in a class of his own.
If he handled this job well, it could lead to even greater opportunities.
“Lorexer. I like the sound of that name.”
Egbert’s deep-set eyes flashed.
He was, by appearance, considered a masterpiece among men—
but inwardly, he was rotting like stagnant water.
“You dare reject me?”
At first, it had been indifference.
Then came misunderstanding.
Now it was stubborn pride.
Egbert had never been rejected by anyone before.
His bruised ego now reared its head.
Only by making Anais kneel before him could he feel any sense of relief.
It didn’t matter how it happened—only that it did.
He had to take Anais back. It felt like someone had stolen something he had kept untouched for himself.
This unfamiliar emotion choked him. His mouth was dry.
Was it desire—or just a hangover? He couldn’t tell.
His stomach churned.
Egbert finally spoke in a grim tone:
“I want you to be a hound that does anything Graham commands.
Can you do that?”
Lorexer bit his lip, tense. This was an opportunity.
But every dazzling flower hides its poison.
At that moment, Lorexer realized:
He was standing at a crossroads that could shake the course of his life.
“Yes, Marquis. I’ll do everything I can.”
“Good.”
Egbert smiled faintly.
“I’m going to take back everything I’ve lost.”
Lorexer immediately thought of the bank.
“First and foremost—Anais Barnaby. I’m taking her back.
And once I have her, the rest will follow like appendages.”
Lorexer’s eyes widened.
Their divorce had shaken the capital city of Estus.
Not only because it involved high nobility,
but because Graham Bank had gone to the woman.
So this was his real motive…
Now he wondered what secret might lie behind what had seemed like an amicable divorce.
“It won’t be difficult. She’s just the daughter of a viscount, after all.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lorexer replied automatically.
No matter how often one claimed that the law stood above status,
it was still a society of strict social hierarchy.
And shaking a verdict wasn’t hard—especially with the Graham family backing it.
“If you help me reclaim Anais and my bank, you’ll never have to worry about making a living again.
I’ll guarantee you honor as well.”
“I’ll do my best, Marquis. Thank you for entrusting me!”
“Good.”
“From now on, just answer my questions. I’ll handle everything else.”
“Next time, I’ll send my secretary instead. He’s more informed on the Graham affairs than I am. He’ll be more helpful.”
Egbert spoke shamelessly.
Lorexer didn’t mind.
The rope extended to him for the first time gleamed gold.
Thus, the two shook hands.
It didn’t take long for Egbert’s lawsuit against Anais to stir the entire city of Estus.
Graham Bank’s Crisis Management
[Graham Bank—Can It Survive Like This?]
The headline, printed in bold, practically jumped off the page.
The article dominated the entire newspaper spread—unsurprising, as it came from a press outlet previously friendly with the Graham family.
It detailed the instability of the bank now separated from the Graham Marquisate,
and listed which investors had already withdrawn their stakes.
“This reeks of internal interference. Look how detailed the reporting is,”
Heres said, his expression burning with anger.
“It’s almost certain the Marquis of Graham is behind this hit piece.”
“I think so too, Heres,” I replied quietly.
“We’ve prepared a counter article for this, haven’t we?”
Both Genus and Heres nodded at the same time.
We would not simply sit and take the blows.
And, perfectly timed, Baldwin’s secretary had visited the bank just yesterday.
Everything was falling into place.
“Release the article tomorrow. Let them say whatever they want today.
The higher you climb, the more painful the fall.”
Heres nodded.
“I’ll circulate it this afternoon so it appears in tomorrow morning’s paper.”
“And don’t forget to bring envelopes to the news offices.”
Heres smirked.
“The better the bribe, the better the outcome, right? I’ll make sure they’re well compensated.”
“Yes, please do.”
Heres responded with shining eyes.
I didn’t specify which media outlets or how much to give.
By now, Heres had learned plenty working at Graham Bank.
It was time to see if he could handle things on his own.
“Mr. Genus. I’ve been thinking about whether I can secure a patron.
Even if not ideal, I can settle for the next best thing.
Besides, Constantine will help extinguish the immediate flames—it might just be enough.”
Genus gave me a look that respected my decision.
“Even if it’s not full sponsorship, we might still shape a more positive public image for the bank. That’s the first step.”
I licked my lips once before continuing.
Aside from Baldwin and Count Apeil, I listed four people.
Even if they only helped shift media sentiment slightly, it would be a success.
After hearing the names I mentioned, Genus nodded.
“They’ve earned good returns from Graham Bank so far, and they trust you.
I believe they’ll listen.”
We had to win them over before they turned away completely.
“Please arrange meetings. Prepare small gifts, too.
It’s best to approach them after tomorrow’s article is published.”
“Yes, Madam. Will that be all four?”
I shook my head.
“There’s one more.”
This last one was the most uncertain—yet, paradoxically, the most trustworthy in some ways.
After I spoke the name, Heres and Genus both widened their eyes.
I, too, had hesitated until the last moment.
Freya Graham.
A member of the Graham family.
