Chapter 183. No Regrets (2)
Rupert climbed into the black limousine. The faint smile he had been wearing never left his face, right up until the moment he settled into his seat.
But.
Clack.
The door shut, and the moment the limousine began to move.
"……."
Every trace of the smile evaporated from Rupert's face. As if a mask had been cast aside, only a cool, piercing gaze remained.
Seated across from him in the limousine was Clarisse. The eldest daughter of Rosemore — always arrogant and imperious.
Yet right now, she sat with both hands folded on her knees, watching Rupert's expression warily.
"She refused."
Rupert loosened his tie and said quietly.
"Quite resolutely, at that. She said she had no need for the family's support."
Clarisse's shoulders flinched. She chewed her lip for a moment before speaking.
"She's done nothing more than rise to the rank of Royal Trading Company."
"Clarisse."
"The name may sound impressive, but her foundations are still fragile. If I just do a little more—"
"Clarisse, enough."
There was no rise or fall in Rupert's voice. Nor was he angry. A gaze as cold and inorganic as an insect's.
"I've already let a great deal slide."
When that gaze landed on her, Clarisse felt a suffocating dread seize her chest.
"We had an agreement, didn't we? You were the one who broke it first."
"Let me try once more. Rupert, this time I'll do it properly—"
"Enough. You should have seized the opportunity when I gave it to you."
Rupert waved a hand.
"Royal Trading Company? Now that she's been given that sort of signboard, even putting her down will make a great deal of noise."
"But……."
"Clarisse, stay out of this from now on. Don't come back to the North for the time being — stay at the capital Villa."
"Elder Brother! Please……."
"Don't make me say it twice."
As Clarisse's eyes began to sink into despair, a sharp glint flashed through them.
"……."
Her consciousness drifted toward her waist. More precisely, toward the Palette hanging at her hip.
An Alchemy Catalyst. Clarisse is a 6th Rank Alchemist.
She had been unable to advance since returning from university, having been consumed by the family's affairs, but she is a powerful Alchemist capable of reducing any ordinary person to ash in an instant.
If she were to attack Rupert here? And then what?
"Rest. I'll handle the aftermath."
The car stopped, and an Attendant opened the door. Rupert lightly straightened his clothes and stepped out of the car with elegant composure.
Clarisse buried her face in her palms.
Right up until the very last moment. She had not been able to draw the Alchemy Catalyst.
***
Business in the capital was concluded. Even if follow-up matters were to continue in the future, for now they needed to return to the North and regroup.
Jurgen and his party boarded a northbound train. Unlike the journey here, their luggage now contained the Royal Trading Company plaque as a trophy.
Serena and Brigitte, having endured the gruelling schedule, seemed to have finally let their guard down — the moment they took their seats, they slumped against each other like puppets with their strings cut and fell sound asleep.
"They fell asleep the moment their heads went down."
"They've every right to be tired."
Penelope tucked a blanket over them with a wry smile. She herself was just as exhausted, yet her mind was sharper than it had been in a long while.
"There'll be a lot to do when we get back. We'll need to redo all the trading company signboards. We'll need to work through the backlog of Royal Kitchen orders, and we should check in on The Golden Mermaid too, shouldn't we?"
"Indeed. Chef Gabriel must have had a hard time managing on his own while we were away."
Jurgen agreed and poured some warm tea.
A peaceful homeward journey. The scenery drifting past the train window was the picture of tranquillity.
And yet there was an irritating sensation, like a splinter lodged in the tip of a finger. Jurgen furrowed his brow slightly.
Rupert Rosemore.
The look in that man's eyes when they had crossed paths just before departure. He couldn't point to any specific problem.
But something — an unease he couldn't quite name — lingered like a bitter aftertaste.
"What's the matter? Your expression doesn't look good."
Penelope tilted her head.
"Your Elder Brother."
"Elder Brother Rupert? Why?"
"What sort of person is he?"
Penelope rested her chin on her hand at Jurgen's question.
"I'm not sure."
She let out a wry smile and turned her gaze out the window, chin still resting on her hand.
"Honestly, it's been so long since I've had a proper conversation with him."
Just like the scenery flashing past, the memories she held of Rupert were indistinct and hazy. She recalled that he had always seemed to trail behind Clarisse by a step or two, yet he had been quite capable.
But to Penelope, he had been a good older brother. Always gentle, always warm.
"I'm not going to regret it, so don't worry."
"Mm?"
"You're fretting over whether I might be agonising about not being able to return to my family, aren't you?"
When Jurgen looked to the side, Penelope was wearing a knowing smile across her face.
"Well, that is indeed one of my concerns……."
Penelope's hand quietly found Jurgen's. It was a hand that laced its fingers through his, leaving no room for escape.
"I said it before, didn't I? Y&P is my family now."
"Penelope……."
Jurgen glanced at Serena and Brigitte, flustered. Penelope's gaze slipped briefly toward the two of them as well.
"Koooo……."
"Kuul……."
The two were still dead to the world. Serena in particular was sleeping with her mouth wide open, which left both Penelope and Jurgen unable to do anything but smile.
"When we get back, things are going to get incredibly busy."
"They will."
"How many reporters do you think will be there? Want to bet?"
"Hmm, I'd say at least five, wouldn't you?"
"I'll wager ten or more."
Amid the idle, inconsequential chatter, the train plunged through the darkness heading north, toward Nortaris. The scenery outside the window was gradually shifting into familiar sights.
***
Sssscreeech!
The train came to a stop, venting great clouds of steam.
"Aaah!! We're finally here!"
"Sister Serena, I thought my back was going to snap……."
"Me too……. I thought first class would be comfortable……."
The moment the train doors opened, Serena and Brigitte tumbled out, moaning and groaning. Having grown so close, their behaviour was now practically indistinguishable from actual sisters.
"Let's get off. Time to go home."
Jurgen gathered their luggage and Penelope followed behind. Wearing a wide-brimmed hat, she cradled in her arms the wooden box containing the Royal Trading Company plaque with great care.
"The North really is the best, isn't it?"
It was different from the lukewarm breeze of the capital. Different, too, from the dry, stuffy warmth inside the train.
Breathing in the cold air that refreshed her to the very depths of her lungs, she stepped out onto the platform — and at that moment.
Bang! Pop pop bang!
Suddenly, a flash burst before her eyes. The brilliance of lightning, the sound of magnesium flash going off.
"Eek! What on earth?!"
Serena shrieked and covered her eyes.
"They're here! Y&P Trading Company!"
"Penelope Rosemore! Please look over here!"
"Jurgen! What is the secret behind the flavour of the Braised Ribs that moved Her Majesty the Queen!"
The platform descended into chaos in an instant. Reporters in suits, notebooks in hand, swarmed them like a hive of bees.
The reporters belonged to local newspapers of the North.
"W-wait just a moment! Everyone, step back!"
Reporters descended on the flustered Penelope in a swarm.
"What are your thoughts on returning in triumph after conquering the capital, Albion?"
"Is it true that Her Majesty the Queen personally praised it as 'heavenly flavour'?"
"Will Y&P now hold dominance over the North's food and beverage industry going forward? And what will become of your relationship with the Rosemore family?"
"Please show us the Royal Trading Company plaque! Would it be possible to take just one photograph?"
A barrage of questions poured down. Even in a half-dazed state, Penelope responded to the interview crisply and clearly.
No — it was simply that, while she had expected reporters, she hadn't imagined them to this extent.
Yet it was an entirely natural phenomenon.
The people of the North carry an innate complex. Namely, a subtle competitive spirit directed toward the capital, Albion.
And now word had come that a trading company from the North — always looked down upon as a backwater — had led the Queen's Birthday Banquet and even become a Royal Trading Company? Behind the reporters, ordinary citizens had gathered in crowds and were waving flags. It was nothing short of a festival atmosphere, with the entire North buzzing with excitement.
When it looked as though they couldn't advance a single step further—
"Hey! Stand aside! Out of the way, all of you!"
With a thundering bellow, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Baron Keystone, dressed in a magnificent fur coat, bulldozed a path through with a bear-like frame that belied his age.
"Baron Keystone!"
"I had a feeling this would happen, so I brought some security staff along. Now then, make way!"
Baron Keystone's staff came running up behind him and formed a human barricade.
Jurgen and his party were able to make their escape from the platform.
***
That evening, The Golden Mermaid.
Success ought to be properly followed by a celebration.
Marianne locked the restaurant doors and held a party just for the Y&P family. The inside of the restaurant was filled with boisterous laughter and the sound of popping champagne.
"Cheers!!!"
Cola Glasses clinked together in the air, bubbles fizzing and dancing.
"Kheuh! I believed in you lot all along, you know? Come now, have another glass."
"But we just had one, didn't we?"
"It's Cola, not alcohol! You can drink more!"
Baron Keystone let out a hearty laugh as he refilled Jurgen's glass.
"By the way, did you see those reporters just now? In all my years, it was the first time I'd ever seen Nortaris Station that packed to bursting! Even when Bellaby came to visit, it wasn't this bad!"
"Oh, come now, old man."
"Did the meat I sent reach you well?"
"Of course. Thanks to you sending it without falling behind schedule, it was a great help."
"Kehehe, if only you knew how bitterly I regret not being able to take you as my son-in-law."
All across the tables, conversations bloomed.
Serena had mingled for a short while before the energy drained out of her, and she was now asleep on the sofa. Brigitte was happily regaling Chef Gabriel with the tale of the two-hundred-thousand-serving battlefield.
Penelope was leaning against the railing on the second floor terrace, gazing down at that happy scene. Jurgen came over and stood beside her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Dazed. It still feels like a dream."
Penelope let out a small laugh.
"The reporters asked me something earlier. What my goals were from here on."
"And what did you say?"
"Secret."
Penelope gave a playful wink.
"But honestly, it's already decided."
"What is it?"
"Being together with these people, just like this, laughing together. I think that's all I need now."
"You've changed quite a bit."
"Have I?"
Turning it over in her mind, she supposed she really had.
In the past, she had been so desperately thirsty for success that she had willingly walked into Social Circles where gossip poured out in abundance. The Penelope she had been back then would have taken Rupert's hand without a moment's hesitation.
But not now.
More than the family's approval, more than success, the companions below who were laughing and making a raucous noise mattered more to her.
And……
"……."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Penelope gave a soft smile.
"It's nothing. I think I'm a little tipsy. I'll go in and rest."
"Already retiring for the night?"
"Why? Is that disappointing?"
"Ah, no…… that's not it……."
Penelope giggled mischievously at the flustered Jurgen and took her leave.
Jurgen, too, is fond of this peace. To the point where he thinks he wouldn't mind if it carried on forever.
"Aiden."
"Yes, Boss."
Aiden emerged unhurriedly from the shadows of the terrace — it was unclear how long he had been there.
"I have one request."
Jurgen knew, better than anyone. That if one wishes for peace, one must prepare for war.