A Single Step (3)
Tick, tock.
In the office where the second hand ticked quietly.
“……”
The president of Veritas Trading was sweating as he watched me. Besides him, two other shareholders—a man and a woman who were likely the president’s son and daughter—sat with faces frozen stiff.
“You just need to stamp it now.”
The president’s face looked as if he were about to burst into tears.
They must think of this as exploitation, or perhaps extortion. They might be half right.
“The payment is four million dollars. It will be transferred immediately upon signing the contract.”
“...What?”
All three pairs of eyes went wide simultaneously. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and disbelief.
“Four… four million dollars, you say?”
“Yes. In cash.”
“……”
They exchanged glances, and the president wiped his brow with a trembling hand.
“Th-that four million dollars is a lot of money. Much more than our company is worth. But this business is a legacy our father built his entire life…”
I let out a small laugh. For a moment, I wondered if this was why the Royal Guard guys just took things by force.
Give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile…
Let’s not think like that. The last thing I want is to become just like them.
“You should forget about such fairy tales and just stamp the seal. Your father would also wish for your comfortable retirement.”
I looked from the president to the son and daughter beside him. They looked to be twenty-two, twenty-three at most.
“You must also think of your children’s future. I will leave you a 1% stake as a bonus.”
Stubbornness wouldn't do them any good, and persuasion was a waste of time for me.
It’s not as if the future will change; we’re all going to die together when the world ends anyway.
“Ah…”
The president let out a groan, agonized over it for a long while, and finally stamped the seal with a trembling hand.
“...Here you are.”
“Excellent.”
I took the contract. I spoke to the president, whose face was a mask of despair.
“The handover will be handled by Mr. Dieter Schmidt. Please transfer all the information you possess as the owner.”
“...Yes.”
The president left with his children. Their retreating figures, trudging away, were quite pathetic, but what could I do?
“Hm. Not bad.”
I sat down in the now-empty president’s chair. It was shabby, but it had all the necessities. It wasn’t too far from the Sentinel Knight Order’s headquarters either—about a forty-minute drive.
Vvvvvvvvv-
An alarm vibrated from the terminal in my pocket.
“Jun?”
The caller ID read ‘Jun Kandel.’
Just seeing the name was sickening. Old memories churned and rose like vomit.
I answered the call, frowning.
“Hello.”
—It’s been a while, Sir Max. Jun Kandel here.
Jun Kandel is the legitimate heir of the Kandel family. The Kandels are one of the Empire's pillars, rivaling the Ebenholz family. In short, he’s my rival.
“What is it?”
—It’s just that I heard some rather interesting news. I was told you had a clash with a Royal Guard Major?
Just as I expected. Rodriguez had already run to Kandel to snitch.
“Less of a clash, more like a fly was buzzing annoyingly on my way.”
A low laugh came from over the receiver.
—Yes, I understand. However, it is difficult for us to let this pass as if nothing happened. A formal member of the Royal Guard was killed, after all. There has been some talk within the Guard.
“Is that so?”
So what, you bastard? This damn snake-like son of a bitch always talks in circles with that greasy voice. Not even a man, the mutt—
—Sir Max. I heard you have your eye on the ‘Egoros’s White Porcelain’ at the upcoming auction.
The white porcelain.
The white porcelain?
Is he talking about pottery? What’s with the sudden pottery?
I searched my memory for a moment.
—Sir Max. Am I mistaken?
Throb!
In that instant, the virus in my body pulsed violently, and my vision shifted. A scene from the past unfolded before my eyes like a rewinding film.
‘Presenting Egoros’s White Porcelain! The starting bid is 3 million credits!’
‘Number 131, 4 million!’
‘Number 151, 4.1 million!’
‘Number 131, 4.5 million again!’
‘Ah— Number 151 calls 5 million!’
‘The competition between numbers 131 and 151 is fierce!’
“...Ah.”
So that happened.
Egoros’s White Porcelain. An item rumored to boost one's virility if you drank water from it.
—It seems you desire it after all.
I understood Jun Kandel’s intention. I had once been passionate about such useless collectibles, but I had no interest in them now.
“Yes. I do desire it. It’s a genuine antique that has come to market after a long time. However.”
...However?
Sometimes you have to say these things to curse them.
“Unfortunately, it seems I will be unable to attend this auction. I have been quite busy with work lately.”
It was my way of saying I would yield the porcelain, and Jun Kandel laughed with satisfaction.
—I understand. A small gift will be delivered to you shortly.
The deal was completed in an instant.
I had traded the porcelain for a small gift, and it was obvious what that gift would be.
—Well then.
Jun Kandel hung up.
“...His voice is as grating as ever.”
Porcelain, Rodriguez, whatever. I was thinking about the strange phenomenon that had just occurred.
Even as a regressor, it’s difficult to remember every trivial detail from decades ago.
But the memory of that long-ago auction just now was as vivid as if it were yesterday.
The cause was probably—
“Was it you?”
I placed a hand on my collarbone.
Clearly, this virus fragment had revived my memory.
If that’s the case…
“...Let’s try to remember in more detail.”
I closed my eyes.
My mind, memories buried in a dusty drawer. Things I had seen, fleetingly, at some point. Among them, I focused on pieces of future knowledge that would be particularly profitable.
‘The southern mines, I hear they haven't been doing well lately. Not a decent iron ore in sight, let alone magic stones.’
Memories of the past unfolded before me like a panorama.
A lavish but somehow decadent noble salon. A space thick with the smoke of cigars and the scent of expensive perfume.
‘Jumping into the magic stone business in times like these is foolish. It’s much wiser to invest in real estate in the capital.’
‘Indeed. Our family has already sold off most of our shares in the southern mines. It’s like pouring water into a cracked pot.’
A time when I mingled with nobles, discussing business.
A time when I was an outsider in the Knight Order, and my life was adrift.
‘They’ll probably all be shut down within a few years. There’s nothing left in that barren land.’
‘…Tsk. Some people fall backward and break their nose, but those Republic bastards strike the ground and magic stones just pour out.’
These nobles had declared that the South, once the cradle of magic stones, was now finished. Thanks to them, I too had sold off the mines I had bought in advance.
But one day, out of the blue, news broke.
The headline of that newspaper came back to me vividly.
[Unidentified Magic Fluctuation Detected in the Romilton Mountain Range, Beston County, Southern Hermes Province… Academia, "Possibility of Discovering a Large-Scale Magic Stone Vein Raised"]
“Found it.”
I opened my eyes.
The Romilton Mountain Range in Hermes’s Beston County. The magic stone mining industry requires enormous initial costs and carries a high risk of failure, but it’s a prime example of high-risk, high-return; a single jackpot can bring immense profits. The Ebenholz family would cover the mining costs anyway. I hurriedly left the president’s office. I approached Dieter, who was at a desk in the corner of the office.
“Mr. Dieter. Did you hear? I’ve acquired this company.”
“Yes.”
“Are you perhaps one of those who would only serve the former president…”
“No. I am an employee of this company.”
“...That’s a relief.”
Dieter was truly a hard person to read.
“From now on, you will have full authority over this company. At the same time, you must also carry out your duties as my personal aide.”
I had the illusion that Dieter’s face brightened slightly.
Perhaps he was a workaholic.
“Your first order of business. You will purchase all the land in the Beston County area of the southern Hermes province. Do it as quietly as possible, so that no rumors spread.”
Dieter looked up at me and nodded.
“Yes. I will do so.”
Then he buried himself in a mountain of paperwork again. This man didn't even have a computer. It meant he was processing everything by hand.
“I’ll get you a computer. Do you know how to use one?”
He looked up again.
“I will learn.”
He pushed his rimless glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“...Right. Good luck with that.”
The more I saw him, the more of an eccentric he was. Far more than the rumors suggested. He was a maverick impossible to judge by conventional standards, but for that very reason, I could trust him even more.
Dieter Schmidt.
You are my first aide.
Meanwhile, Rodriguez received good news.
He walked out into the courtyard of the Royal Guard headquarters, puffed up with pride. Grand Marshal Straussen was waiting for him there.
“Loyalty!”
Rodriguez saluted first. Straussen, dressed in civilian clothes, smiled.
“Did you hear the news?”
“Yes, sir. I heard you reached a good agreement with Duke Kandel.”
“...Yes, an agreement was reached.”
Straussen nodded. Rodriguez’s cheeks flushed red.
“This is a relief. I believe this incident will be another turning point for the Royal Guard. We will purge the corrupt nobles who have maintained their power under the guise of tradition, and our Royal Guard will—”
“—We’ve decided to discard you.”
“Pardon me…?”
Rodriguez’s long-winded speech came to a halt, his expression freezing for a second.
He tilted his head for a moment as if he had misheard. Straussen let out a deep sigh.
“Rodriguez, you must not know things, being a country bumpkin who rolled in from the East.”
The Grand Marshal took a step toward him, grabbing his tie and whispering.
“The name Ebenholz is not one to be touched so carelessly, even if it belongs to a newborn puppy.”
In a flash, men in uniform appeared from the shadows. They roughly seized Rodriguez’s arms.
“Y-Your Excellency? What is this…”
“Shh. Dispose of him quietly.”
“Your Excellency! Grand Marshal Straussen! What is this, what are you doing! Your Excellency!”
Rodriguez shrieked as he was dragged away. In an instant, his mouth was gagged, and Straussen just clicked his tongue and muttered.
“Half-wit.”
No matter how reckless he was, Maximilian was the one and only son of Jestian. A noble of a status that a country bumpkin like Rodriguez couldn't even dare to look up to.
“This is why country bumpkins don’t know their place.”
Straussen took out a silver floss pick from his inner pocket and cleaned between his teeth.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
As if scraping away a piece of food, someone’s neck was snapped.
The last day at the main house.
Angie delivered a small gift from the Kandel family. It was a beanbag. When I unzipped it, I found Rodriguez’s face.
“Right. Confirmed.”
“Yes.”
Jun Kandel had acquired the white porcelain at a relatively cheap price at the recent auction, and Rodriguez got his neck snapped. It meant Rodriguez's life was worth no more than a single piece of pottery.
He was an insignificant bastard to begin with, but the high nobility of the Empire valued human life with much colder calculation.
“Angie, did father say anything?”
“He has not been separately informed.”
Angie’s narrow eyes drew an arc.
“He will know, of course. And he will probably be proud. But Sir Knight, if this was for your father, there was no need to go this far.”
Angie seemed worried about my sudden change. After all, the me of this time before the regression would have just been off exploring fine dining restaurants.
“No. I did it because I wanted to. It has nothing to do with my father.”
I gazed intently at Rodriguez’s closed eyes.
“A whelp who doesn’t know his place tried to take me on.”
I handed the beanbag back to Angie.
“Burn it. Are the moving preparations done?”
“Everything is finished.”
From the wooden sword my mother made for me that I had cherished since childhood to my well-worn books, everything was packed in moving boxes. My favorite sofa and bed had already been moved to the new mansion.
Angie had probably taken care of even the small details I hadn't mentioned.
“Angie, before we go, can I search the Ebenholz armory?”
I am looking for a sword. I need to hunt down and crush my prey, and trying to stand alone without the family’s help, no matter how I think about it, is just bravado.
I must make the most of what has been given to me. For there is a ‘foe’ that we must face.
“Of course. The entire armory belongs to you, Sir Knight. Please follow me.”
Angie opened the door. His gesture, guiding me, was as kind as always.
…To be honest.
I was sadder when Angie died than when my father’s head was hung on the street.
What a terrible son I was.