45.
He calculated silently, exchanged a few words with his aide to confirm the feasibility, and then transcribed the revisions onto the business plan. He never once asked for Harriet’s opinion, yet she found herself unable to protest.
‘I’d have to understand what he’s talking about to butt in!’
Though it was a business plan she had drafted herself, it felt surreal to watch it being expanded and refined by Cedric. It was a bittersweet, ambivalent feeling—gratified to be acknowledged by him, yet pained by the stark reality of the gap in their competence.
Finally, Cedric slid the plan back across the desk. It was scarred with lines struck through her original figures.
“Please review it.”
Harriet scanned the pages in silence. Having spent until dawn agonizing over those very pages, she grasped the gravity of his changes at a glance.
He had taken her modest proposal, which she had estimated to net an annual profit of 500,000 Dirhams, and elevated it into a 2,000,000 Dirham enterprise.
The catalyst for this shift was a clause mandating an additional 200,000 Dirhams donated to St. Clarissa’s Convent to build a significantly larger workshop for soap and herb production.
“I asked for an investment, not a donation.”
“In the case of soap, the current production capacity of the convent’s workshop is barely a hundred pieces a week.”
“We decided to produce the maximum volume before the official launch. A fairly generous stock will be secured.”
“If you consider the duration a noble uses a single bar of soap, that won’t last long. To run a business in the capital, meeting demand on time is paramount. A slight shortage can make customers anxious, but a long-term stockout leads directly to failure.”
Harriet knew he was right. It was only her pride that stung, chafing at the fact that she was the one being corrected.
“So, you’re saying the cost of expanding the workshop will be covered by the investment. Not as a donation.”
Perhaps sensing her internal turmoil, Cedric added, “I’m not donating because of you, Harriet. When I visited last year, I wanted to give more, but due to the public eye, I was limited to 100,000 Dirhams. Consider this the remainder.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t make the mistake of thinking your generosity is for my sake. I know full well that saying you’re donating because the convent’s dogs are cute would be more convincing.”
At that, Cedric let out a short, sharp puff of laughter.
“Where on earth do you learn such expressions?”
“……You seem to find amusement in strange places. Regardless, what am I supposed to do from here on out? It’s embarrassing to have to ask.”
“No matter what, this is your business, Harriet. My aide will assist you, but you are the one who must make the decisions and monitor the situation.”
Cedric piled on words to stimulate Harriet’s sense of responsibility, then added, as if to ease her tension, “It won’t be difficult. Though you might get a bit tired from traveling here and there.”
It certainly looked that way.
He had instructed her to handle the store lease contract immediately and promised to oversee the interior renovations himself. As for the merchant group, it would involve meeting the representative to set distribution routes and accompanying him to St. Clarissa’s Convent to introduce him to Catherine and Sophia.
However, Harriet was to be entirely in charge of the design and packaging of the goods. Naturally, Cedric had already recommended a packaging company.
“Now, let’s talk about profit distribution. We will set production costs—which will become the convent’s operating funds—as fixed expenses, and determine the distribution ratio for the remaining profit.”
This was the critical juncture; her throat went dry.
“Until 90% of the investment is recovered, the profit split will be 7 to 3. Naturally, I take the 7. After that, it will be 8 to 2, with you taking the 8. Any objections?”
Harriet took a deep breath.
She had arrived at this point in the blink of an eye, wondering *how, how, how*, and the speed of it left her feeling uneasy. Was this right? Was there some hidden, toxic clause she had failed to notice that would leave her regretful later?
Yet, as she looked at it, Cedric seemed to be the one taking the loss.
‘I thought he would ask for more. Did he go easy on me because it’s for the convent?’
Regardless of her personal feelings toward him, that was a debt of gratitude.
“No objections.”
“You set the production costs to be paid to the convent quite high; if you lower those a bit, your share will increase.”
“I’m not that shameless. I’m only lending my face, after all—I couldn’t possibly slash the price of the hard work put in by those who make the products.”
“Thanks to your face, they will sell better than Natarixen’s soap, won’t they?”
Harriet shrugged.
“That’s because it was St. Clarissa’s Convent that created that face.”
“I suppose so. Then let’s sign the contract.”
She realized something new about his character from his refusal to offer even a polite denial. She didn’t quite understand why that made her feel so bitter.
The contract was drawn up right before their eyes. Cedric’s aide wrote the lines without hesitation, as if he were accustomed to such precision. As Harriet checked every minute detail, she decided to add one final term.
“I would like you to keep the fact that I am the representative of this business a secret.”
“Why is that?”
“You know why. If it becomes known that I am the representative, you know how that would become fodder for attacks.”
Cedric nodded, satisfied by Harriet’s clear-eyed grasp of reality.
“Very well. Additionally, let’s keep the fact that House of Kaylas is the investor a secret for now.”
“Of course. I told you before. I wouldn’t dare tarnish your noble name.”
Harriet smiled brightly.
Cedric quite liked that smile. It showed a certain naivety, a belief that she had successfully masked her irritation.
“Shall we make up an excuse that Harriet’s visits to the ducal residence are to handle business on behalf of Countess Felon?”
“That would be good.”
“With the excuse prepared, let’s sign.”
The names Cedric Kaylas and Harriet Listerwell were inscribed at the bottom of the contract, the ink still wet.
The business had now begun.
* * *
On the way back to House of Felon, Harriet looked over the revised business plan and realized the vast divide between herself and Cedric once again.
‘It’s only natural there’s a difference. He must have been learning things like this since he was a child.’
There was no need to feel prideful, yet she couldn’t help it.
‘Why does it feel so frustrating?’
The business she had conceived was being recognized and coming to fruition. Her heart hammered, and goosebumps rose on her skin. It was joyous, yet the fact that it hadn’t been accomplished entirely by her own strength pricked at her heart.
The two lines crossed through the timid numbers, replaced by the elegant handwriting of the new figures. It felt as if a wall stood between her and Cedric, as wide as the gap between those numbers. A wall she dared not cross.
Harriet clenched her fists.
‘Yes, it won’t be easy to overcome the differences created by birth. But there’s no law saying I have to be looked down upon forever.’
Even as she thought that, a desire to be Cedric’s equal sprouted within her. No—she wanted to defeat him.
She imagined a day when he would look at her business plan, click his tongue, and beg to sign the contract immediately because there was nothing left to fix.
‘……That just doesn’t seem possible.’
Harriet sighed softly.
Still, the first step for businesswoman Harriet Listerwell didn’t seem too bad.
As soon as she arrived at the Felon estate, she went to find Roxana, as Trisha was still taking an afternoon nap.
“Teacher! I… I succeeded in attracting an investment!”
She couldn’t hide her joy, but Roxana’s expression was peculiar—”surprised” would be more accurate.
“From Duke Kaylas?”
“Yes!”
“That is…… a surprising thing. I thought you would fail.”
“What? Weren’t you supporting me, Teacher? You said that if I acted with guts, I could win over the investor’s heart.”
Harriet, who had opened her eyes wide in a sense of betrayal, found that Roxana didn’t even look apologetic.
“That’s for other investors; if it’s Cedric Kaylas, it’s a different story. It’s like watching Harriet, who went freshwater fishing for the first time, catch a shark. It doesn’t make sense.”
“…….”
“What’s more, the shark is flashing its eyes, and Harriet is grinning, saying she caught a big fish. How could I not be surprised?”
“……You mean to say I could be eaten?”
“Well, that depends on your own competence. I hope you survive.”
It was a comment full of the nuance that she should go back now, but Harriet had a natural talent for bothering Roxana.
“Teacher. I don’t want to be eaten by Duke Kaylas, and I don’t want this business to fail either. So, I have to learn more from you.”