He muttered indifferently. Seo-ah bit her lip.
“Um….”
She tried to speak, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat softly. Taking a breath, she lowered her head further. Her entire face flushed red.
“I’ve seen pens that you dip in ink.”
“That’s an antique.”
“…….”
“Open the cap.”
Even that seemed a difficult order. She blinked rapidly, then carefully twisted at the joint.
Of course, it only spun.
“You pull it.”
And she was obedient. She hastily grabbed it with both hands and applied force. The bones of her hand stood out, but the pen remained unmoved.
“…It won’t open?”
He asked, almost incredulous. Her reddened face turned completely crimson.
“It’s not that. I’m just afraid I’ll break it….”
Oscar laughed softly. Perhaps there was no need for her to sign a contract at all.
“With five hundred million Kerte a week, it’s fine to use something like that once and throw it away. Just pull it off.”
Though it was a pen that could be opened with one hand, Seo-ah managed it with both. Her face redder still, she lowered her head and brought the pen tip to the signature line.
“Am I to write my name here?”
Even her hands looked red now. Oscar glanced at them and nodded lightly.
“With the same name as on the identification you presented at Felpe Bank.”
Holding the pen firmly in her flushed hands, she wrote vertically, stroke by stroke. Oscar watched the elegant characters, then tilted his head.
“You write Seo-ah?”
“Yes.”
“It’s three characters?”
She paused, a moment, then pointed to the top character with the pen tip and she opened her mouth to answer him.
“Han Seo-ah. Seo-ah is my given name. Han is my surname.”
Oscar rolled the name once in his mind.
Han Seo-ah. Huh.
After finishing, she closed the cap and tried to return the pen. Oscar took only the contract.
“Keep that.”
Before Seo-ah could speak, he stood.
In truth, business awaited. He could feel Simon outside the door, restless as a dog. A contract could have been delegated to the Wolves, yet time had slipped by unexpectedly.
He placed the contract on the desk. Turning back, he saw the woman still standing neatly.
Pale.Small.Easy.And flushed red.
Was it because she was strangely captivating to watch? Or was it the ingrained instinct of chasing the damned key? Either way, more time had passed than expected.
Oscar studied Seo-ah, buttoned his unbuttoned jacket, and strode away. His steps were wide now, a sharp contrast to his earlier leisure. In an instant he passed her and reached the door. As expected, it opened from outside. Oscar, as if he knew the door would open, didn't pause. He walked through and about to pass the door, like flowing water, when—
“Excuse me…!”
A voice stopped him.
He turned back to see. The woman stood there, forehead flushed, uncertain. Stood there unsure of what to do.
Oscar blinked once. Twice. He had no intention of sparing more time, even had no reason to ask why she called him.
Just as he turned away—
“When will you be back?”
A very small, trembling voice reached his ear.
Oscar took one step, then turned back.
“…….”
Only for a moment.
Then he crossed the threshold without a word. And as he did, the gentle mask on his face vanished instantly.
Outside, Wolves bowed in silence respectfully. Simon, who had been waiting, stepped to his side at once. He whispered to Oscar.
“Your private meeting with King Felpe is thirty minutes overdue.”
Oscar swept back his falling hair, replying with dry amusement.
“Whether it’s thirty minutes or three hundred, I’m handling something more important. He can wait.”
“I suspect he’s calling about the matter of Grand Duke Baden.”
“He was gentlemanly enough. Why?”
Oscar’s lips twisted cruelly. Simon fell silent.
The King of Felpe, who had waited thirty minutes, seemed to be completely out of his mind, he did not appear once in the words that followed.
“Abel is.”
“He should arrive around evening.”
Oscar nodded lightly. Then a faint question surfaced—one not even worth answering. Strange. Out of place. What business was it of his when he returned?
Oscar’s eyes narrowed. But there was too much to handle to dwell on the awkward tone of a stranger.
“When you go to Felpe Bank, have the children accompany you. If they say they’re going somewhere, do not stop them. Let them do as they please. And send someone to the hotel to purchase what they need.”
“Understood, Your Excellency.”
Simon halted the moment the order was received. Oscar walked away without looking back.
—
Oscar von Reinhardt.
A breeze stirred where he had passed. A faint scent lingered in the wake of his movement—like ash and smoke after a fire that had consumed everything.
Seo-ah blinked blankly and looked down at her hand.
A pen holder, black and glossy like obsidian. Both ends trimmed with gold. When the cap was opened, the nib gleamed the same gold.
With this pen, she had written her name on the contract.
Contract.
Seo-ah turned her head toward the desk. The documents lay there casually, their signatures placed side by side as though they carried no weight at all.
The clause specifying the name on the identification presented to Felpe Bank was clearly a precaution against future dispute with the bank.
“You’ll learn when we go to Felpe Bank later, but it will take at least half a year to open the vault. Until then, you will entrust your person to me. In return, I will provide protection and the price of a mansion. Including what lies inside the vault, it will be a considerable sum.”
It sounded generous.
But in truth, it meant her freedom would be bound until the day the vault opened.
The clause regarding entrusting her person was explicit.
For protection, she must reside in areas recognized by the Marquis of Reinhardt. When leaving those areas, she must always be accompanied by individuals recognized by him. In emergencies, she must obey the orders of the Marquis or those he designates.
Yet nowhere did the contract define protection.
Which meant that even if protection amounted to nothing more than keeping her alive—regardless of what became of her body—there would be no breach of contract.
“…….”
For now, it was enough.
The breath she had been holding finally escaped. The heat of it dried her lips. Her heart hammered as if it might burst. Her back was already damp with cold sweat.
Even so—
For now, it was enough.
—
Beneath a massive tapestry depicting scales stood a steel throne. Upon it sat King Henry IV of Felpe. Sat on the steel throne, symbolizing the steel vault of Felpe Bank. His brow knotted tightly as he closed his eyes.
“Look, Your Majesty! That dog of Luxen who deserves to be eaten is openly disregarding Felpe and Your Majesty! How dare he arrive late when the King of Felpe summons him!”
The booming roar of Grand Duke Baden grated on his nerves. And it was never merely the shouting.
A century earlier, West Norfolk had seen a wave of religious reform, preaching lives governed by law and integrity. That wind had reshaped aristocratic custom, making public adultery the first target of eradication.
Of course, adultery had not vanished. But at least openly boasting of it—especially acknowledging illegitimate children—had become socially forbidden.
Unfortunately, that reformist wind had never reached East Norfolk.
Here, adultery and illegitimate heirs still ran rampant among nobles. Some madmen even paraded it as culture and art. The late King had been a prime example.
During his reign, he committed adultery without restraint. With the Queen still alive, he handed palace authority to his mistress, publicly acknowledged an illegitimate child, and even granted him the title of Grand Duke.
“Your Majesty, please send a letter of protest to King Leopold of Luxen!”
Karl von Baden. That bastard.
The King irritably removed his glasses and opened his eyes.
—