Chapter 15
“Ah, is that so? It’s my first day, so I must have been trying too hard. I’m sorry, Max.”
“And while it may be different when the two of you are alone, I would appreciate it if you used honorifics for the boss in front of others.”
“Oh, like with Delaporte? Understood.”
What kind of scheme was she hatching now? Max observed the woman quietly.
Last time, she had appeared wrapped head-to-toe in dark, somber clothing, but today, she looked as if she were dressed for a date by the lake.
For some reason, feeling piqued, Max glared at Freya as she looked around the office.
Whether he cared or not, Freya swept her gaze across the office before approaching the map of Grandcen pinned to one wall.
On the map, a red thread was fixed in a straight line from the capital, Luthes, to Saint-Germain-En-Laye.
Looking at the map, Freya involuntarily clenched her tightly clasped hands.
If the first misfortune that led Max Russell to his ruin was meeting Freya Blanc, the second was taking over the business of his father, who had fled under allegations of fraud.
And the final misfortune was that red thread on the map.
“What is that?”
When Freya asked with an air of feigned innocence, the faces of Max and Auguste stiffened with tension. Auguste twisted his lips and asked back.
“What do you think it is?”
Freya rested her chin on her clasped hands, pretending to ponder, before dropping her answer casually.
“Hmm… just looking at it, it looks like a path. Is it marking a road?”
“Well, something like that.”
She hadn’t asked because she didn’t know, had she? Just as Auguste was about to answer with a sour expression, Max cut in.
“We’re going to lay a railroad along the distance marked by that red thread.”
The so-called ‘Luthes-Saint-Germain-En-Laye Railway’ project.
Because of this business, Max would lose the standing he had built as a businessman and the prestige of being a hero’s grandson all at once. Not only that, he would even end up selling the steel mill owned by the Russell Family at a pittance.
Without her intervention, it was a future destined to happen.
The simplest way to prevent the future she knew from coming to pass was to make Max withdraw from the project himself.
No, it would be more accurate to say it was the most certain but most difficult method.
If he would only give it up, there would be no situation where Max would be pointed at for being his father’s son, no loss of the steel mill, and consequently, he would never reach the point of losing his thread of hope and committing suicide.
‘The problem is that I cannot make him give it up with my strength alone.’
The fact that the Imperial family and the Senate had already approved the project, and that the railroad rails were already being manufactured at the steel mill, was not the issue.
The real reason he couldn’t give up this business was…. Freya swallowed a bitter smile and asked Max.
“A railroad?”
“Yes.”
His business wasn’t exactly a secret among businessmen, even if the official announcement hadn’t been made yet. A faint smile, tinged with confidence and pride, played on Max’s lips.
“I plan to build the first passenger railway in Grandcen.”
Yes, I know. I know how much affection you are pouring into this project and what you expect to achieve through it. Freya struggled to control her emotions and asked with a concerned expression.
“Max… surely you didn’t start this business because of your father?”
“…”
Silence served as his answer.
Max Russell’s father, Benoît Russell, was a fraudster.
Whether it was his father’s sudden death as a revolutionary hero that ruined him or if it was a trait he was born with, one could not know, but Benoît Russell was a cunning and cowardly man.
The charge for which he fled alone, abandoning his wife and son before the police could reach him, was exactly this.
Canal project investment fraud.
This incident, which broke out exactly half a year before Max and Freya were married, left the Russell Family hanging by a thin thread. At the same time, Max was on the verge of going to prison in his father’s stead.
And then, in that moment of despair, Freya Blanc formally proposed to Max Russell. No, she offered marriage. Along with the promise to help restart the canal project that was about to end in fraud.
Little did she know that her father, the Duke Blanc, had already made the same offer.
…I don’t remember exactly what Max’s expression was back then.
At that time, the 17-year-old Freya was completely blinded by a fairy-tale-like love filled with lies. That was why she couldn’t understand the misfortune that the then 20-year-old Max Russell was experiencing. No, she didn’t even try to notice.
The 17-year-old Freya was merely relieved and overjoyed. Believing firmly that she would have a fairy-tale ending with her precious first love and be happy forever.
…I felt like vomiting. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Freya opened her mouth toward the stiff-faced Max.
“Max, in my opinion…”
Knock, knock. The sound of someone knocking on the office door cut Freya off.
It was actually a relief. For a moment, she had almost impulsively persuaded Max to give up the business. Even though she knew full well that her words would bear no fruit and would only offend him.
Freya expressed her silent gratitude to the uninvited guest who had appeared right on time and turned around. At the same time, the door opened, and a man with jet-black hair entered.
“Max, something urgent has come up to discuss…”
The man, who had walked in before he could be stopped, stopped in his tracks, unable to finish his sentence.
Finally, the long-awaited time for a reunion.
“Oh my, Erle Tristan.”
Freya opened her eyes wide and, as a refined lady would, covered her mouth with her hand, looking at Erle Tristan.
Max’s gold-dusted blonde hair was rare, but the black hair of the Tristan Family was a color almost impossible to find in the Empire as well. Not to mention he possessed the one-and-only violet eyes in the Empire.
Exuding the unique atmosphere of a high aristocrat who seemed to have been born with arrogance, Erle Tristan was a man who reminded one of a birch forest falling with snow on a midwinter night.
He was the kind of man who, if you let your gaze get lost in the beautiful scenery, you would slowly grow cold and quietly breathe your last.
Max Russell and Erle Tristan.
The two were undoubtedly the most beautiful men in the Empire, whom many women had fantasized about at least once as a husband or a lover.
The only difference was that, unlike Max Russell, who was of commoner origin, Erle Tristan had a stronger image of being untouchable, so there were fewer who openly admired him.
To Freya, Erle Tristan was nothing more or less than a target she wanted to shoot dead.
Erle Tristan should have considered himself lucky. If it weren’t for the repeated experiences, Freya would have been unable to control her surging murderous intent even now and would have rushed at him to end his life somehow.
“……Madam Russell.”
Unlike Freya, who had anticipated his appearance, Erle Tristan failed to manage his expression in the face of this sudden encounter.
His flushed skin, contrasting with his tightly set lips, made his arrogant impression look ridiculous, which was quite a pleasant sight.
Yes, you never dreamed you would face me like this today, did you? By now, the story Madam Tristan would have told and the satire published in today’s ‘Le Xixe Siecle’ must be floating dizzyingly in the Marquis’s mind.
As Freya let out a scornful laugh internally, she turned to Max on the outside and gave a troubled smile.
“Max, it would have been nice if you had told me that you were working with the Marquis.”
Max, who had already sensed the unusual tension flowing between the two, asked in a curt tone.
“Why would I need to tell you that?”
“Well…”
With an expression that seemed to ask if she really had to say this out loud, Freya glanced at Erle Tristan before covering one cheek as if she felt embarrassed.
“It’s just a bit awkward, considering this is the first time we’re meeting since the Tristan Family sent a marriage proposal to the Blanc Family.”
“…They sent a marriage proposal?”
To a woman who had a fiancé chosen since she was eight? Unlike Max, whose face hardened further, Erle Tristan’s face relaxed rapidly at the unexpected story.
“Ah… my father told me not to bring it up because it would only cause unnecessary discomfort for both sides. I’m sorry, Marquis. I hope I haven’t caused any trouble for you.”
“It is fine, Madam Russell. It was a long time ago.”
In the meantime, Erle, having hidden his agitation, added the explanation about ‘long ago’ with a picture-perfect smile. Freya gave a snort internally and nodded.
“That’s true. It has been a long time. It was half a year before I got married, so… six years? Ah, Max. Was that around the time your father’s business fell apart?”
Without exception, the mouths of the men in the room clamped shut. Just when the atmosphere had frozen to the point where it couldn’t possibly get more uncomfortable.
“Madam Russell! Haha, now that I think of it, you haven’t toured the company yet, right? I will show you around.”
“Ah, shall we? Delaporte.”
Auguste, with a terrified expression, signaled to Max and escorted Freya out of the office.
In the uncomfortable silence, it was Max who spoke first.
“…So you had sent a marriage proposal to the Blanc Family.”
“It was my father’s will.”
It was all in the past, and since rejecting the proposal might have been the catalyst for the complete rift between the ducal family and the marquisate, one could even say it was a good thing for him.
Besides, hadn’t they even drawn up a divorce agreement? Whether or not he had received a marriage proposal before was not something he should care about. Then why did he feel so terrible?
“More importantly, this is not the time to be worried about such trivial matters.”
Trivial matters? Max, who had raised an eyebrow, turned grave at the words that followed from Erle Tristan.
“At the next full Senate meeting, an amendment related to the railway construction will be submitted. Both proposals are targeting our business.”