Chapter 178. Cup Rice (2)
The central freight-only unloading yard of Albion.
Trains rolling in without pause, and white steam.
"Wow…… there really is a lot."
Penelope stared open-mouthed at the endless stream of meat crates pouring out of the freight wagons.
Then again, two hundred thousand portions, no less. Easy to say two hundred thousand, but this was on a level with a small city's worth of food for an entire week.
"He sent the finest cuts the moment he heard."
Jurgen smiled warmly as he flipped through the inspection sheet.
There was only one person capable of making something like this happen. The titan of the North's livestock industry — Baron Keystone.
For Baron Keystone, whose life had entered its twilight years and whose business had hit its ceiling, leaving him restless, the Culinary Revolution had come as a godsend. Thanks to that, Baron Keystone was burning with more vitality these days than he ever had at his peak.
Having watched the dazzling growth of Y&P Trading Company from up close, and having reaped its benefits himself, there was no way he wouldn't understand the shockwaves that supplying the Birthday Banquet would send out.
The moment he received word, he had laughed heartily and said, "But of course! Leave it all to me!" — then mobilised the full logistical capacity of the Keystone Company.
"The old man's bolder than he looks, isn't he?"
Penelope clicked her tongue in admiration.
"He trusts Y&P Trading Company."
"Even so. Sister won't have just sat quietly."
It wasn't simply a matter of sending the goods. There was no way Clarisse had failed to anticipate things unfolding this way. Naturally, Clarisse's side would have applied pressure to the Northern distribution networks as well.
But who was Baron Keystone? A long-established local power of the North.
That depth of experience and stubbornness carried a weight that couldn't be measured by appearances alone. He had brushed aside every veiled threat and check, and seen fit to send the meat all the way to the capital out of sheer loyalty.
"So meat looks more or less sorted. What about the Soy sauce?"
"Over there."
Where Jurgen pointed, enormous oak barrels were stacked like a city wall.
"Did they make all of that? The factory workers must have nearly died."
Penelope was aghast at the sheer scale of it.
"Don't worry. It was already there."
"What?"
There was a story behind this Ganjang that you couldn't hear without feeling a pang.
Y&P Trading Company had built a Ganjang factory alongside the establishment of Royal Kitchen. With the intention of spreading the new sauce, they had produced far more than what Royal Kitchen alone required.
The result was a devastating failure.
It was a period when fine dining culture hadn't spread far enough yet. Demand for an unfamiliar sauce like Ganjang was virtually non-existent.
All they had to show for it were complaints from customers who had mistaken it for Cola, while the stock just kept piling up in the factory.
After hearing the explanation, Penelope narrowed her eyes and asked,
"So this is…… a clearance sale?"
"Not clearance — call it maturation. The flavour will have deepened considerably."
"Is that actually fine?"
"Ganjang is a fermented product, isn't it?"
"……Is it?"
"It is."
In any case, the Ganjang was resolved without difficulty as well.
"Then the most important thing — the rice?"
"Over there. It's reserve stock brought in from a nearby supply depot."
Jurgen patted the rice sacks.
"Ah, is this what Her Majesty the Queen had pledged?"
The Queen had promised generous material support for this Birthday Banquet distribution.
Honestly, everything else had been sourced through Y&P Trading Company's own capacity, with payment to be received in return — but this rice, at least, was genuine support.
After all, the rough burlap sacks without even a label on them were reserve stock brought in from a nearby supply depot.
"Let me check it."
Penelope was a proper representative of Y&P Trading Company in her own right. With ingredients, one glance was enough to form a rough assessment of quality.
Penelope tore open one sack and was examining the rice grains when she stopped short.
"Jurgen, isn't this aged rice?"
Unlike the glossy rice delivered to Royal Kitchen, this was dry and rough-textured, its moisture gone. Had rice like this been delivered to Royal Kitchen, she would have rejected it on the spot and sent it straight back.
"No, free is nice and all, but…… the quality seems a bit lacking."
Penelope turned the grains over in her fingers, looking uncertain.
"It's way too dry. No stickiness at all. Will this really be okay?"
"What we're making is a rice bowl. Too much stickiness would actually be a problem."
Jurgen held up one of the dried grains.
"A rough surface and the right amount of moisture removed — that's actually what you want. That way it soaks up our sauce like a sponge."
"Oh……?"
Penelope had gained new knowledge!
***
Meanwhile, at that very moment.
"Reporting to you."
An attendant cautiously extended a document. Clarisse, whose worry had been deepening day by day, slowly turned her head.
"News from Y&P's side?"
"Yes, they have…… completed their ingredient procurement, apparently."
Clarisse pressed her fingers to her throbbing head and asked,
"Completed? We applied pressure to the Merchant Association."
"The meat was sent directly by the Keystone Company of the North via train."
"The letter requesting cooperation?"
"Um…… about that……"
As the attendant hesitated, Clarisse let out a long sigh.
"Tell me. I can more or less guess."
"……He tore it up on the spot, apparently."
"That old man is truly……"
If the Rosemore family was the reigning overlord at the apex of the North, then Keystone was a local stronghold rooted deep in that rugged land.
Even Rosemore could not simply grab an old tiger by the scruff of the neck. That would mean turning all the other local powers into enemies at once.
"What about the rice? How did that go?"
"Yes, the royal storehouse was opened. Her Majesty the Queen has apparently released the entirety of the government's grain reserves."
"Baron Keystone, and now the Queen on top of that……"
Clarisse ran her hands through her hair.
Nothing was going her way. Whatever she did, none of it worked against Y&P Trading Company.
"At this rate……"
Just as Clarisse was fretting —
Tap tap.
"Lady Clarisse, I have brought the man."
A faint flush of colour returned to Clarisse's face.
"Show him in."
Right. It wasn't over yet.
A trump card still remained. The man who had managed Y&P Trading Company's finances — and who would know their most deeply buried secrets.
Creak.
The door opened and a man walked in.
Gideon Belheim. Once the Branch Manager of Devon Trust Bank and a genius who had commanded Northern finance.
However, following a conflict with Y&P Trading Company, he had abruptly fallen from grace. Since then, he had apparently been working in some minor post under the royal administration.
"Lady Rosemore?"
Belheim stepped inside and paused at the sight of Clarisse seated at the head of the room.
"I wasn't aware this was that sort of meeting."
"……Please, take a seat, Mr Belheim."
Clarisse concealed her emotions as though putting on a mask.
But inwardly, she could barely contain her shock.
This is — that cold-blooded financier, Gideon Belheim? The image of a sharp-edged elite she had heard about in rumours was nowhere to be found.
A beard that looked as though it hadn't been shaved in several days, shadowing his jaw. A suit crumpled beyond any recognisable sign of ironing.
Most shocking of all was his eyes. Behind the lenses smeared so heavily with fingerprints they had turned cloudy, the pupils beneath had lost their focus entirely — they looked like a fish that had been dead for half a day.
"……Let's get straight to the point. I have a mountain of documents to deal with right now."
Belheim slumped down onto the sofa and rubbed at his face with both hands.
Setting aside the shock — this was a favourable development. How deep must his hatred for Y&P run, having been cast aside and disposed of? The information of an insider nursing that hatred was always the real thing.
"I had heard rumours, but it seems you've fallen further than the rumours suggested."
Clarisse, prodding lightly before negotiating.
"Ha ha, thank you for your concern. But one manages to live when life demands it."
Belheim answered curtly, then got straight to the point.
"What reason would the so very occupied Lady Clarisse have to seek out someone in a lowly post?"
Clarisse leaned forward and whispered quietly.
"Y&P Trading Company."
Belheim's hand stilled.
"I will help you take revenge. Restoration of your standing, and your former honour. If you wish, I can even place you back at the very top of the financial world."
Belheim expressionlessly ran a hand along his rough jaw.
"What would I need to do?"
"It's simple. Bring me Y&P Trading Company's weaknesses. Illegal money flows, records of tax evasion, or a secret ledger."
"……"
A heavy silence filled the room. Belheim slowly removed his glasses.
And he began, with unhurried care, to clean the lenses using the wrinkled tip of his necktie.
Only the sound of glasses being polished filled the quiet.
At last, Belheim put his glasses back on and raised his head. Clarisse looked at him with expectant eyes.
But then —
"Ha……"
Belheim's shoulders shook.
"Hahahahaha!"
Suddenly, Belheim burst into roaring laughter. Clarisse's expression hardened to ice.
"You find this amusing?"
"Ah, my apologies. I simply haven't had much to laugh about lately."
Belheim wiped the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes with one finger. Behind the now-clean lenses, the look of exhaustion had vanished, replaced by bright, sparkling eyes.
Like a man on the verge of a very entertaining event.
"I heard your proposal. I found it compelling."
"Then why did you laugh?"
"I can more or less guess your reasons…… but you've come to the wrong address."
"The wrong address?"
"I decline."
At the flat, unhesitating refusal, Clarisse's brow furrowed.
She couldn't understand it. Turning away an opportunity extended by the Rosemore family, when he was in a position where even a fraying rope would be worth grasping?
"The gutter must suit you rather well."
"The gutter…… well, I won't say it's wrong."
Belheim shrugged.
"But it's still far better than taking Lady Rosemore's hand and betraying Y&P Trading Company."
Belheim rose from his seat. He patted down his suit, fastened his dishevelled cufflinks, and spoke to Clarisse.
"Allow me to offer you a word of advice instead."
"Advice?"
"As someone who has lived a little longer. Step away from Y&P Trading Company. It will be beyond what Lady Rosemore can handle."
Clarisse was dumbfounded. Had this man, demoted as he was, simply lost his mind entirely?
"Who exactly is giving advice to whom here?"
With her brow furrowed to its limit, Clarisse watched as Belheim rose unhurriedly to his feet.
"If you wish to find weaknesses, by all means keep searching. But I assure you."
Belheim's parting words, delivered just before the door closed.
"That pit you're digging will become your grave."
Bang —
Left alone in the room, Clarisse simply stared blankly, mouth hanging open.
"What…… is this……"
Was this not a situation that made no rational sense? A mere defeated man — speaking bluntly to none other than Clarisse Rosemore.
Utterly preposterous. Under normal circumstances, she would not have let words from a madman like that linger in her memory for even a second.
And yet.
It was too uncanny. All this time, Y&P Trading Company had deflected every one of Clarisse's interference schemes with astonishing ease. Without a single moment of difficulty.
"……"
Clarisse could not laugh. Not even a little.