Into the Rose Garden Novel - Chapter 15.2 Can’t escape

Every time he saw that, Kloff felt offended, wondering if they saw him as some kind of high-class gigolo or pimp. Though outwardly, he showed no sign and merely looked on coldly. Among the countless reactions he had experienced so far, Aeroc was quite calm and gentle. He smiled with a hint of worry.

He’s still smiling even now. Should I push harder?

“Since you have so many assets, you won’t go bankrupt immediately. But if you keep failing investments repeatedly and maintain lavish spending on tea parties and such, you could be completely ruined if someone deliberately targets you.”

Wrinkles appeared on the count’s smooth forehead, and the corners of his mouth, which had been turned up, subtly drooped.

“If this kind of reckless investment continues, that is. Even without a huge organization, just a few individual investors who know how to cleverly scheme could, if they seriously set out to commit fraud, make Teiwind exist only in history books.”

Suddenly, the count stared at him. And then asked in a slightly angry voice.

“For example, someone like you?”

Kloff snorted. Then he pulled out something from the categorized folders that he had wanted to ask about earlier.

“Of course. I’m the best in the industry right now. What on earth is this ‘National Hunger League’? Why did you build them a house? And what’s ‘Angels Who Lost Their Mothers’? You’ve made enormous regular donations.”

“Those are naturally charities! As a noble, it is my moral obligation to give what I have to help those in distress.”

“Of course, donating to charities is a form of social contribution that the upper class can and should do. But these two organizations have no address or administrator names anywhere. And the receipts aren’t proper documents with proper signatures, but rather shoddy ones with several spelling and grammatical errors. Most importantly, why have I never heard of these organizations? I’m familiar with all municipal, royal, and internationally recognized organizations, but I’ve never heard of these. Where did you find out about them?”

“At a charity party.”

When pressed with a sharp gaze, the count answered, avoiding the displeased look he had been giving him moments before. Kloff raised the corner of his mouth, waving the shoddy, cheap paper receipts written by swindlers.

“Don’t lie, tell me the truth. Where?”

“…On the street.”

What kind of person is this? How could he trust a complete stranger met on the street and hand over such a large sum of money? If he had so much money to waste, he should give it to a poor honor graduate. So I could move out faster. Kloff was speechless and remained silent for a moment before continuing.

“From now on, transfers to these two organizations are prohibited. This is clearly a scam, no matter how you look at it.”

“You’re a swindler yourself.”

“What did you just say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

I heard everything. Who’s the swindler? I’ll let it go for now, as I still need to scold him more.

Kloff glanced at him, who still didn’t seem to understand his situation, then picked up the next item.

“Who recommended this foolish investment? A gem of mine? Most people know that the vein there ran dry long ago. You attend so many tea parties and social gatherings, and you didn’t have a single acquaintance who could give you proper information?”

At that, the count suddenly stared at Kloff. And then he smiled somewhat strangely.

“…I understand now. That it was a scam. Only… my father’s old friend recommended the investment. I merely trusted him.”

“He must not be your friend, then.”

At Kloff’s indifferent reply, the count’s blue eyes seemed to waver slightly. But they soon became still, making him wonder if it was his imagination.

As Kloff continued to point out his mistakes one by one, the count, perhaps his pride wounded, soon frowned deeply and crossed his arms. For a noble to cross his arms, wrinkling his clothes, meant he was very displeased. Seeing him pout rather than get angry, Kloff had to suppress a chuckle.

What Kloff eventually learned after a long time was that Aeroc Teiwind should never be entrusted with a checkbook. Originally, he had intended to just make a show of it and leave, as it was a request from Viscount Derbyshire, to whom he owed many favors, and he couldn’t refuse. He had planned to avoid the contract if possible. He had come with the intention of introducing another asset manager or investment agent, but now he saw that the count had no concept of asset management whatsoever, and couldn’t even grasp the value of currency.

A classic example of someone who lived only in the clouds and forgot how to walk was now glaring at Kloff with a face full of displeasure. The one who should be angry now was him, who had discovered the troubles of a man he didn’t want to be involved with.

“So, what do you intend to do now?”

“That’s my question, Count Teiwind.”

“You’re my investment agent, so you should explain it to me.”

He was dumbfounded.

“Who said I’m your investment agent? I haven’t signed any contract.”

“Th-that…”

At the cold remark, Aeroc acted as if he had been betrayed. His expression clearly showed disbelief, and his slightly parted lips trembled a little as he fidgeted with his fingers. The golden-haired count, who was too elegant to even point a finger, soon bit his lip tightly.

It was a contract he didn’t strictly need to make, but in fact, he didn’t strictly need to refuse it either. While it was true he wasn’t particularly well-off, considering Teiwind’s prestigious name and enormous wealth, anyone else would have been desperate to sign the contract. Viscount Derbyshire’s words that it would benefit Kloff were not wrong.

However, he personally found the count uncomfortable and had tried to avoid him, but seeing him whine like a wet dog, unable to utter a single word of complaint, made him more concerned. Kloff eventually sighed deeply.

“Let’s draw up a contract, and then we can gradually plan and discuss it.”

“…That means…”

“First, listen to my terms. Of course, I have no intention of compromising, and if even one isn’t met, there’s no contract.”

At those words, the count, feigning a neutral expression, brightened and rose from his seat. He then looked through the documents on the desk where Kloff was sitting. Then, as if he had never been sulky, he raised his head and looked down at Kloff, smiling.

“Where do I sign?”

“Where have you been listening to my words until now?”

Since they had agreed to a contract, he had to examine all the remaining documents. If there had been a proper asset manager, it might have been different, but the current asset manager was worse than useless, so he was immediately fired, leaving the position vacant. Kloff had no choice but to take a significant portion of the liquid and cash assets, other than the real estate and long-term investments he would tie up, into trust and invest them. In short, he seized control of the count’s finances.

Usually, nobles did not trust people to this extent. Even Viscount Derbyshire, while actively accepting investment advice, preferred to manage his actual assets himself. But Aeroc Teiwind had no interest in wealth whatsoever.

During the few days he went back and forth examining documents, he vaguely understood why. He considered it unrefined to directly discuss money and show great interest in it. He wondered if there was such a living etiquette book. Not even a monarch would be like this.

It was natural, then, that the count, who appeared after a few days, immediately tried to sign the thick contract Kloff presented without even looking at it. Kloff firmly grabbed the hand holding the expensive handmade fountain pen. The count, startled, looked at Kloff.

“What on earth makes you trust me enough to sign without even reading it?”

“You must have written it well enough. You boasted several times that you’re the best in the industry.”

“That’s what I said. You need to verify it yourself. Read it!”

“Alright, let go of my hand. It hurts.”

He must have put too much force into his hand in his excitement. When he released the count’s white hand, which was a little smaller and much softer than Kloff’s, the count grumbled in a small voice, “Only brutally strong.” Kloff glared at him until his eyes hurt, but the count didn’t see it, as he was bent over, rummaging through the contract. The pages rustled quickly. Is he really reading it properly?

“Read it aloud. So I can confirm.”

“I’m past the age for a governess.”

“Then prove that you’re reading it.”

As Kloff almost barked at him, Aeroc, annoyed, began to read the contract aloud. It wasn’t a loud voice, but it was clear enough in the study where they were alone. He lectured about etiquette, etiquette, and perhaps he had received elocution lessons, because Aeroc read the contract, filled with stiff vocabulary, as elegantly as a romantic poem.

While he recited the not-so-short content, Kloff found himself involuntarily drawn in, as if listening to the beautiful melody of an aria. Although he had written it himself, the content itself didn’t register at all. He stared blankly at the count, who was reading the contract with his luxuriant golden eyelashes slightly lowered, unable to lower or raise his teacup.

“Is the commission enough? It seems less than the previous one.”

Oh, you crazy bastard. Just as he was having a rare personal experience of being drawn into a world of artistic sensibility and appreciation, that one sentence forcibly threw him back into reality. Kloff almost swore. Half of it was directed at that pathetic count, and half at the former asset manager who had swindled him. As he had repeatedly stated, Kloff’s commission, befitting his reputation as the best in the industry, was naturally top-tier. And for this contract, which required him to handle all sorts of troublesome matters, he had specifically demanded three times his usual commission, and now he was saying it was less than the previous one?

This cunning swindler. What was his name again? I wrote it down somewhere. If I ever run into him again, I might need to weed him out so he can’t swindle anyone again.

Kloff imagined how he would deal with that rotten apple who was stirring up trouble. As he entertained malicious thoughts, a faint smile naturally appeared on his face, and while he drank his tea, Aeroc signed with elegant penmanship. As he was about to put the cap back on his fountain pen, Kloff handed him a copy and pointed with his finger to where he needed to sign again.

“There are two copies, so sign both.”

“Contracts are very troublesome.”

The count, who grumbled about how troublesome it was just to sign three times, completed his signatures and, without even bothering to take the document copies, stood up and left, citing “urgent business.”

Kloff, who no longer had the energy to be surprised or angry, personally collected the copies, put them in the study desk drawer, and locked it. He dropped the key onto the silver tray the waiting butler offered him.

“Where’s Aeroc?”

“Count Teiwind is in the music room. Shall I escort you?”

He shook his head at the butler, who pronounced “Count Teiwind” with excessive staccato.

“No, thank you.”

That damn idle noble.

He had a feeling that things were going to be very troublesome from now on. His professional intuition as an investor, which had brought him fame in a short period, proved to be unfailingly accurate.

Less than a week later, Kloff found himself cursing himself for signing today’s contract and raging.

What Kloff demanded of Aeroc was not difficult. It was something even a child could do. He simply had to consult Kloff before spending above a certain amount. He thought he had given a generous limit, but his office was contacted several times a day, bothering him.

“The Count asked if he could buy a new artist’s series of paintings.”

“The Count said he wishes to make a donation at this charity party. The amount is roughly this much.”

“The Count wishes to purchase a rare first edition at auction. He asked if you could attend the auction on his behalf.”

“The Count at this porcelain exhibition…”

“The Count for His Grace the Duke’s birthday…”

“The Count…”

Exactly one week, and it was the Teiwind estate footman’s 53rd visit to his office. Even while processing receipts for the enormous sum Aeroc had just spent, the footman, whose footsteps now made his temples throb from a distance, entered, and Kloff almost broke his pen.

“What is it this time? What now, Count!”

“Please read this.”

The footman, who had politely handed him the envelope of fine handmade paper, bowed and immediately left before Kloff could react.

Until now, there had only been simple notes and messages, but this was the first formal letter. On the envelope made of fine paper, “To Mr. Bendyke” was written in penmanship as handsome as the owner’s face. He thought there might be something important written inside. The moment he opened the letter with a slightly pounding heart, the pen in his hand finally gave up the ghost.