36. Fitting for a New Era
By any chance… is Damion notorious among his servants or something…?”
“What? Of course not! It’s actually the opposite. He treats them very well.”
“Then why didn’t anyone follow him?”
“Well… after returning from the border to the capital, he immediately set up his own residence. Maybe he just hired new servants?”
It made sense. If they hadn’t been together for about five years, perhaps newer people were more comfortable for him now.
“I see. Thank you for delivering the invitation.”
“You’re welcome, Madam.”
As Simon left the room, Anshi stared quietly at the invitation before hiding it inside a drawer.
In a quiet alley in the capital, Count Rozel entered a small café and made his way to a private room in the back.
Damion stood up from the crimson velvet sofa and gave a slight bow.
“Pleasure to see you, Count.”
“It’s been a while.”
With a rather uncomfortable expression, Rozel cleared his throat and sat across from him. He clearly didn’t seem pleased to be here. Marquis Bellow, who entered right after, chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.
“I kept my promise, didn’t I?”
Damion had achieved the number they had agreed upon. And so, Marquis Bellow brought Count Rozel just as he had promised.
He hadn’t promised to bring a willing Count, after all. His obligation was fulfilled. What happened from here on was Damion’s job.
“I only stopped by because I had other business in the capital. I won’t be able to spare much time.”
After the staff placed three cups of coffee and left, Rozel lowered his voice.
Bellow raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Damion.
Rozel had already come here warily just to secretly meet the second son of the Duke of Orphel. Even in this private room where no one else was present, he looked uncomfortable—worried that Duke Orphel might somehow find out. It seemed better not to speak rashly.
If word reached the Duke, it could be dangerous…
“Then let me get to the point. I ask that you support me, not Cardian, as the next Duke.”
But Damion got straight to the point—calmly, even nonchalantly.
Bellow’s eyes widened in surprise.
Rozel leaned forward in alarm.
“What—do you even understand what you’re saying?”
“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t, Count.”
“You’re the second son.”
“Whether one is the first or second son, the position should go to the one most fit for it, don’t you think?”
“You’re saying the Young Duke lacks ability? That you’re better? I know you’re a competent soldier and businessman. But the house has a traditional order that must be respected.”
Rozel began to lecture him passionately. But Damion didn’t interrupt or react emotionally—he quietly listened. Only after Rozel finished speaking did Damion respond calmly.
“We are entering an era where titles and money are becoming equivalent in value. A businessman who owns a large factory is now considered a more desirable groom than a noble with a prestigious name.”
“But the authority of nobility hasn’t vanished yet!”
“Of course.”
A sly smile formed on Damion’s red lips. He tilted his head slightly and asked softly:
“Then… what if that businessman also had the name Orphel?”
Damion remained composed throughout. Rather than hiding his status, wealth, and competence with false humility, he wielded them as weapons. Someone else might have come off as arrogant—but Rozel felt a sense of undeniable weight in Damion.
A fitting leader for the new era of House Orphel.
Damion de Orphel seemed like the perfect candidate.
“Well, yes, but…”
“Also, I appreciate that you value my abilities, but I’m not here to belittle my brother and sing my own praises.”
“Then what do you mean by saying you’re the right person?”
“I mean someone who would be more beneficial to the elders of House Orphel.”
“……”
Rozel clamped his mouth shut, staring at Damion.
It was true—Cardian had everything. From the moment he was born, he had walked a path paved for him. He had become the Young Duke without any opposition. When the current Duke died, he would naturally inherit the position.
In all of that… the elders had no say.
No influence. No power.
Rozel rolled his tongue inside his mouth before finally asking, as if he had made up his mind:
“Then be clear. What exactly do you want me to do?”
Damion chuckled softly. He leaned his face on one hand atop the table and spoke in a quiet, seductive tone:
“I’m someone who likes clear calculations. I’ll return even more than what I receive. So… how far are you willing to go, Count?”
At that devilish question, Rozel swallowed hard. He replied with a serious look:
“I may be an elder, but I can’t outright rebel by dragging the Young Duke down from his position. If that’s what you want, count me out.”
Damion sat up straight and nodded easily.
“No need to worry. I have no intention of provoking the Duke with some dramatic gesture to strip Cardian of his position.”
“Then what?”
“Frankly, what I want from the elders isn’t much. I only seek a fair competition.”
Fair competition?
Rozel stared at Damion, waiting for him to elaborate.
“As you said, Cardian holds the position of Young Duke. Being the firstborn, he also has the Duke’s backing. On the other hand, I’ve never been given an opportunity.”
“You want to use the elders’ support to level the playing field.”
“Yes. I want to use the voices of the major elders as my backing. So all I ask from you, Count, is a signature of support for me as the next Duke.”
“…And what do I gain from that?”
“Well, Marquis Bellow here has already recovered one thousand percent of his initial investment.”
Rozel gulped.
A signature of support. No need for overt action. As long as it remained private, the risk was low. Among ways to show support, this was the safest and most cost-effective.
While Damion said he’d use Rozel as backing, once he became Duke, the situation would reverse—Damion de Orphel would become the support for those elders who had backed him.
And since Damion’s recent marriage was to someone of little influence like Rubelsa, there was no concern about power being diluted into the bride’s family.
Rozel inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled. He looked at Damion with resolve and said:
“I’ll do as you say.”
“Thank you, Count.”
Damion smiled gently and extended his hand. Rozel grasped it in return.
Only then did Bellow, who had been leisurely sipping coffee as if ignoring everything, finally speak.
“I trust your abilities, but not all the elders will be so easy to convince. Show them again that you can outmatch Cardian.”
“You seem to have something specific in mind. Am I right?”
“Sharp as always. The Orphel family owns a textile company run by Cardian, doesn’t it? I heard you started one too.”
“Will surpassing his company’s influence suffice?”
Bellow raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“Understood.”
Damion nodded as if the task were no big deal.
Watching him, Rozel gave a small cough and took a sip of his coffee.
“The aroma is pleasant.”
The slightly cooled coffee suited him. He felt far more relaxed now than when he had first entered. Although he still didn’t want anyone to know about this meeting, his earlier anxiety had faded.
Despite saying he couldn’t spare much time, Rozel only left after finishing the entire cup.
“Well then, I have matters to attend to. I’ll be going.”
“I look forward to working with you, Count.”
After Rozel left, Bellow—now eating the dessert chocolate—crossed his arms and stared at Damion in displeasure.
“What’s wrong?”
“What would you have done if Rozel didn’t agree? You nearly dragged me into trouble!”
Damion smiled softly, lowering his gaze.
“That was never going to happen.”
“Confident, aren’t you? Even after seeing how nervous he was walking in—weren’t you worried he’d tell the Duke?”
“Do you really think someone that jittery has the guts to bring this to the Duke?”
“Hmmm…”
“He’s cautious about everything. He avoids taking center stage. No matter the reward, he steers clear of real danger. You saw it too—how he hesitated even at the idea of signing support.”
“True… He’s not exactly ambitious.”
Despite holding a high position in the Council of Elders, Count Rozel was timid. His family’s business behavior also showed that.
“Such a man wouldn’t go tattling to the Duke. Even if he doesn’t support me, he won’t expose me.”
Damion nodded. Seated comfortably on the velvet sofa, sipping coffee, he exuded nothing but composure.
Bellow stared at Damion with interest.
That once-timid little boy, always watching others for cues, had grown into a man who could manipulate elders with ease.
Bellow let out a warm laugh, feeling oddly proud.
The Orphel Duchy’s main residence was located in the city center, about 30 minutes by carriage from Damion’s home in Northweden Street.
Anshi entered the Orphel gardens.
Marianne’s tea party was being held in the blooming garden. Early summer had brought out the best in the flowers, all lush and vibrant.
At the heart of that glamorous garden, about twenty nobles were gathered, their laughter filling the air. The event seemed to have started quite a while ago.
But when Anshi saw them—she suddenly stopped.
Something was… strange.
