The Principles of Investment (3)
The night version of Dione was breathtakingly beautiful.
She wore a lace dress interwoven with silver thread, her ash-pink hair twisted up and adorned with pearls. Her earrings were pearls as well. With only the faintest touch of makeup, her cheeks and lips held a cherry blossom hue.
Even without much knowledge of fashion, Cleio quickly realized that Dione had an impeccable sense of style—every man, and even women, turned to look at her as she walked by, as though bewitched.
If she's dressed up this beautifully, then fine, but why is she doing this to me too…?
An hour and a half before the party began, Dione summoned the hotel's maids and launched what she called the "Project: Turning Cleio Aser into a Human Being."
In front of others, she reverted to calling him "young master" again, and with strict precision, she dressed him up from head to toe.
The collar of his shirt was so stiff with starch that it scraped against his neck, and the vest felt more suffocating than a school uniform.
Unaccustomed to such uncomfortable clothes, Cleio winced and complained, but the maids ignored him completely and only followed Dione's orders.
"You have no idea how desperately I begged the tailor to finish this dinner suit in a rush, my lord. He had to make it without even a fitting."
"…Didn't you decide to quit being my 'private tutor'?"
"If I were only your private tutor, I wouldn't be polishing you up this much. But there's no way I'm letting my partner stand before others looking pitiful."
Finally, the ordeal ended, and Dione placed a top hat on his head.
The maids showered her with praise.
"As expected of Lady Dione's taste! The young master looks like a completely different person!"
"He's become a fine gentleman, anyone can see that!"
Dragged before the mirror by the women, Cleio was equally shocked.
…How is this even possible?
The well-tailored suit compensated for his slender build, and with his hair slicked back, he actually looked somewhat like a young businessman.
He was younger and smaller, of course, but from a certain angle, he even resembled Gideon Aser.
Dione, studying their reflection, rested her chin on her hand, clearly still dissatisfied.
"Lady Dione, isn't this enough already…?"
"Mmm, something's still missing. Ah! The lapel flower! I forgot that!"
What now…?
She trotted over to a vase on the table, plucked a single white flower, and pinned it to his lapel.
When she leaned in, the faint scent of perfume and powder drifted from her neck, so close that the soft down of her skin was visible—enough to make his stomach flutter uncomfortably.
"There. Now anyone would see you as a proper conversational partner."
"So you have to go this far just to do business in this country?"
"If you want to do business well, yes. You chose the right partner, my lord—I'm an expert in this sort of thing."
"Haa…"
"Besides, popularity with the opposite sex, when used wisely, can become both a network and a weapon."
"That's… probably not a field I can compete in."
"Oh, young master. It's a mistake to think every woman prefers a perfectly chiseled man. There's a steady demand for your type, believe me. I, Dione—who debuted in the capital's social scene at sixteen and took it by storm—should know."
This woman really has strange taste in men. First she was swooning over Gideon Aser, of all people… He's decent-looking, sure, but he looks like the kind of man whose blood runs cold.
"By the way, you can dance, right?"
"Dance? What kind of dance do you mean?"
"What else do people dance at a ball? Ballroom dance, of course."
"I can't. Never learned."
"…Ha, unbelievable. How could you not?"
The softened atmosphere shattered instantly. Dione looked at him as if she'd been swindled, lamenting all the way down to the hall.
The banquet began past nine o'clock.
The hall was filled with women in glamorous dresses and men in tailcoats. Following Dione's lead, Cleio greeted people, exchanged trivial pleasantries, and slowly adjusted to the atmosphere.
Once he seemed comfortable enough, Dione was swept away by people calling her name, disappearing toward the center of the hall.
Left alone, Cleio picked up a glass of champagne and surveyed the room.
That was when a familiar voice rose above the orchestra's soft background music.
It was Chel.
"You came, Cleio! I'm honored you accepted the invitation!"
"Likewise. Thanks for setting up such a fine event."
Even here, she's wearing men's clothes…
Dressed in a cream-colored tailcoat, Chelestis looked like an old Hollywood actor that the youngest editor had once adored.
With her hair brushed back, the beauty mark above her right cheekbone stood out, lending her an air of mature danger.
"Rey!"
"Hey, Rey! You look pretty sharp tonight."
"You look so grown up!"
Overwhelmed by Chel's excessive presence, Cleio only then noticed the Angelium twins standing beside her.
"Liphy, Leticia. You two look lovely as well."
The sisters wore dresses with low waists and flowing ruffled skirts. With flower crowns on their heads, they looked like adorable little bridesmaids.
The girls ran up and clung to him, each pulling at one of his arms. Though they seemed cute, Cleio couldn't physically pry off the twins who had been training with swords since they were four.
Ugh… I can't even overpower kids like these.
"Girls, let Cleio go. He dressed up nicely for once; you'll wrinkle his clothes."
"Ah, sorry!"
"We're sorry!"
"There's sherbet and pudding prepared over there—why don't you go have a taste?"
"Okay!"
"Yay!"
Chel redirected the twins' attention with sweets, then turned back to him.
"Whew. I'd heard rumors about Lady Dione, but this… this is something else. She's quite skilled, isn't she? I should give her a medal for bringing out this much potential from you."
"You do realize that, coming from your face, that sounds like mockery."
"Haha! What, are you trying to compete with me now that you've dressed up a little? Adorable, Cleio!"
Having nothing to say, Cleio simply took a sip of champagne. As Chel had promised, at least the drink was exquisite.
"I heard about the Trinity Auction earlier today. So you didn't come here just for fun, did you?"
"Something like that."
"Something like that? Novantes is in an uproar! Madame Sileum—who was with you when you first bid on that lyra—has been spreading the story nonstop."
So that lady muttering about overpricing back then must've been Madame Sileum. I suppose I should thank her for the free publicity.
"Thanks to that, everyone gathered here tonight is talking about you. Look—they keep sneaking glances at us."
"So what if they are?"
Whispers drifted through the air: "As expected of the second son of Baron Aser," and "Such poise and confidence for his age."
Judging people right to their faces—is this what high society is like? Unbelievable.
If you've cast a bait, at least let a proper fish bite. Gathering a swarm of chatterbox minnows was meaningless.
Cleio drained his champagne flute in one go and, expressionless, reached for a fresh one.
"Anyway, my mother says she wants to see you."
"Now that is truly an honor."
A faint smirk curved his lips above the rim of the glass.
He had been waiting for this catch.
The greatest asset gained from Chelestis becoming his classmate was, of course, access to Katarina.
After being toyed with by that woman, it's only fair I make use of every connection within reach. Somewhere in the world, the tables are already beginning to turn—so I'd better move fast.
"An honor, is it? Well, it's not every day one gets the chance to kiss my mother's hand. Look—she's already surrounded by suitors."
A few meters away, a woman walked gracefully, basking in the admiration and pleas of both young and old men alike.
According to the manuscript, she should be in her late forties. She doesn't look it at all.
Katarina's navy-blue hair—identical to Chel's—was elegantly coiled up, adorned with a jeweled ornament set with dozens of diamonds.
Her sharp silver eyes and the diamonds seemed to reflect each other's light.
Her gaze was the kind that could turn a man to stone, like a monster out of myth. One by one, the men surrounding her fell away.
"So, you're Cleio—the boy my daughter calls a friend. How is your father these days?"
"It's an honor to meet you, ma'am. Cleio Aser. I've heard my father is in good health."
"Oh?"
A statement that deliberately pushed his father to the sidelines. Resting a finger beneath her chin, Katarina tilted her head slightly. The probing had begun.
Cleio consciously straightened his back, planting both feet firmly and drawing his chin in just a little.
From here on, it was a true duel.
If tonight's groundwork went well, his ultimate plan would succeed.
The balcony, its doors shut and curtains drawn, was meant for lovers' trysts—but the conversation between Katarina and Cleio was utterly dry.
To Katarina, Cleio Aser had looked like a mere boy for only the first few seconds.
She realized the moment he spoke his greeting—he wasn't just a mischievous child seeking amusement.
Her smile faded completely as she began to pressure him.
Even the Chairman of the Royal Advisory Council shrank beneath Katarina's presence. Yet this boy, who could barely wield a sword, did not flinch—his gaze met hers head-on.
"The development layout of the capital is about to change. You should select the site for the new hotel on the eastern side."
"Go on."
"Especially considering the modern style of the hotel you're spearheading—designed for business meetings and receptions—that location will be ideal."
"The only decent district in the east is the Scholara Quarter, where the Capital Defense Academy stands. Beyond that, there's no train station, the zoning is tangled, and the property rights are a nightmare. Why would anyone build a luxury hotel for businessmen there?"
"Was what's reasonable now also reasonable in the past? Will what's reasonable now necessarily remain so in the future?"
"It sounds clever, but there's no substance to it. I don't waste my time on baseless speculation."
Katarina drained the last of her champagne and set the glass down on the railing—a signal that his time was up and she expected a conclusion.
"Train stations can be built anywhere, as long as necessity outweighs inconvenience."
A faint crack appeared between Katarina's brows. She was well-connected to both the royal court and the government; if such a plan existed, she would have heard of it through some channel.
"Is this information from Baron Aser?"
"No. It has nothing to do with my father. I'd like you to know that my goals and methods are entirely separate from his."
"Then on what basis should I believe such an absurd claim? Take away your surname, and you're just a student, Cleio."
"Crown Prince Melchior ascended at seventeen. Was he lacking in any way?"
He chose his words deliberately to sound as provocative as possible. According to the manuscript, Katarina valued boldness and audacity.
Truthfully, he'd been tense to the point of itching since the conversation began. Whenever he felt himself stiffen, he imagined Behemoth's soft, squishy belly to relax.
Katarina Tempête de Neige never conducted business with first-time acquaintances or people using aliases. Her empire had been built upon the dense web of connections among noble families.
Even if he came across as a cheeky upstart, he needed to leave an impression. Otherwise, no one in their right mind would sign a contract with a seventeen-year-old boy they'd just met.
Let's see how long you stay on top, madam. I know this sounds like the bluff of some shady con man, but believe me—I'd rather not be posturing like this either.
Still, he couldn't reveal too much. If Katarina sought counsel—even unlikely—it could jeopardize everything.
"Do you have any evidence?"
"It'll be revealed soon enough. You, of all people, know that by the time it's in the papers, it's already too late. I can't say much without a formal partnership, but I'd advise you to keep an eye on the Mining Bureau's activities east of the Tempus River."
Mining Bureau. Eastern Tempus. Train station.The keywords aligned, and Katarina's mind began to race.
"If I find merit in what you've said, I'll be sure to contact you."
"We'll meet again soon. Please understand that I wish for a deal that benefits both of us."
Just as Dione had taught him, Cleio lifted her hand and pressed a courteous kiss to the back of it. The fingers he touched were cold as ice.
When he returned to the suite and relayed the conversation, Dione burst out laughing in delight.
"So you dangled bait in front of that hundred-year-old serpent, Katarina, because you've got something solid up your sleeve, huh?"