WTFLR 20

“A blind spot?”

“We’re being evaluated not on total revenue, but on the growth rate of revenue, right?”

“Right?”

“That means the marquess wants to choose a successor who can grow more from their current state. In that sense, choosing Second over First was actually the smarter move.”

“Why? Second hardly has any customers. First is doing great.”

“The likelihood of First increasing their already high revenue explosively is pretty slim.”

“Huh?”

It seemed Sasha had finally caught on to what I was saying.

“Going from 80 to 100 versus going from 10 to 100—which has the higher growth rate?”

80 was First, and 10 was clearly Second.

There were still three months left. If we could draw in more customers during that time, winning wasn’t impossible.

And on top of that, Second had the coconut store. Aside from the capital, Second was the only location that had it. We just had to make the most of that.

“Oh! Now that you mention it, that makes sense.”

Realizing that I hadn’t jumped into this recklessly and had actually thought it through, Sasha finally looked at me with a hint of trust.

Of course, this could only move forward if Yulize accepted the plan.

After hearing the idea, Yulize agreed to accept the help, likely thinking she had nothing to lose.

Backed into a corner and desperate, she said things couldn’t possibly get worse and wanted to try something—anything.

Naturally, it wouldn’t be for free.

We agreed that I’d receive 5% of Second’s monthly revenue.

If things went well, I’d also get a performance bonus.

If this succeeded, not only could I cover the mansion repair costs, but I could also truly make a fresh start.

“…That pervy grandpa smile again. Lady Dia, are you officially part of Second Line staff now?”

Sasha asked with an expression that said she’d grown used to my mischievous grins.

“No, I’m a consultant.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“It’s different. If you say ‘consultant’ instead of staff—”

“And?”

“It sounds cooler.”

Sasha’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Hah, seriously. At this rate, you’re going to write an autobiography called ‘From Entry-Level Employee to Building Owner and Consultant.’”

If I ever wrote a résumé, under “Position,” I’d write: Building Owner and Consultant of The Second.

Unable to hold back her laughter, Vendia’s lips curled into a smile as she strode forward lightly.

“Sasha, hurry up. We have to get back and make the presentation materials.”

“Wait for me!”

Sasha quickly ran after Vendia.

Once the two of them disappeared,

a black figure stepped out from the shadows of the alleyway.

The man stared only at Vendia, whose golden hair shimmered like sunlight as she walked.

“I’ve found you.”

Hiding in a tree some distance from the mansion, the man—Peter—held his breath.

He had been waiting a long time for the crescent moon to rise to its peak in the sky.

The darkness was now so thick, it was hard to tell whether his eyes were open or closed.

“She really made me suffer.”

His muttered voice was laced with complaint.

He had gone through so much trying to find this woman.

Even bounty hunters had been put on her trail, but they’d all come up empty.

Everyone had chased her trail, but at a certain point, it just vanished.

There was no way that could happen unless she was dead—or unless someone had deliberately hidden her.

But come on—he was no ordinary man.

He was the best tracker in the Shadow Guild, White.

The one being talked about as the next sub-guild master. The kind of guy 20-something women might want to date.

The kind of man parents might want as a son-in-law.

“That’s right. Me—Peter.”

Peter smirked with self-satisfaction.

Of course it was him who found the woman before any of those money-crazed hunters.

There was a reason the guild master had chosen him, out of all the guild members, for this job. No one found people better than him.

He realized that standard methods wouldn’t work to find Vendia.

So he dug into her past.

She had no real friends or contacts, even when she was a count’s daughter or a duchess. So he resorted to bribing the household staff.

From the servants of the Duke of Calbermer to those of the Count of Rose, he wrung out every scrap of information about her past.

Her story was so pitiful, even someone like him—hardened by years in the underworld—couldn’t help feeling sympathy.

Once he knew everything, the very idea of people from the Rose household still trying to find her made him feel disgusted. No wonder she ran away.

“People with power are always the worst.”

He clicked his tongue in disgust and jumped lightly down from the tree.

What led him here was a clue from one of the Calbermer servants.

“She was locked up for three days without food and constantly berated.”

Apparently, Vendia had helped the Marchioness Heden, who was being humiliated at a tea party, and was severely punished when her mother-in-law found out.

Based on what he had learned, Vendia had always been the kind of person who couldn’t say a harsh word and just quietly endured, so this was unexpected.

On a hunch, Peter came down to the Heden estate—and found her immediately.

“Sorry, but I take my job seriously.”

He sprinted forward and leapt.

He vaulted clean over the shoulder-high fence and quickly scanned the surroundings.

There were no guards on patrol right now. This was his chance.

Her misfortune was a separate matter. He had taken the job and the advance payment—he had to see it through.

Without hesitation, Peter darted toward the mansion.

“Mm…”

Awakened by a parched throat, Vendia stirred and reached out groggily.

She grabbed the cup on the nightstand beside her bed—it was empty.

She reached farther for the water bottle, but that too was bone dry.

Dinner must’ve been salty. She’d apparently drunk all the water before falling asleep.

With no other choice, Vendia opened her eyes and sluggishly sat up.

Sasha would be sound asleep by now, and there were no servants, so she had to get the water herself.

She was used to doing things on her own, so she didn’t think much of it. She grabbed the bottle and walked down the long hallway.

The 180-pyeong house had a main bedroom, parlor, office, guest rooms—ten rooms in total—and five bathrooms, so the hallway was very long.

Of course, Vendia had to be staying in the master bedroom—the farthest from the kitchen.

The guest room near the kitchen was occupied by Sasha, and the room near the entrance was being used by Chris.

Shuffling along in her house slippers, she finally reached the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Then she filled the bottle.

The bottle was light on the way there but heavy on the return.

With quiet steps, she started walking back down the hall.

The bluish light of dawn crept through the corridor windows.

She naturally glanced outside—and abruptly stepped backward in alarm.

“What the hell is that!”

She dropped the bottle in her hand and pressed her face and palms against the window.

The water spilled out, soaking the floor and the hem of her nightgown, but she didn’t care.

Vendia’s eyes widened in shock as she bolted away.

“What are you doing?! What the hell is going on?!”

Even in slippers, she ran full-speed into the front yard and shouted at the group of people there.

The scene looked like something straight out of a noir film—grim enough to bury someone right then and there.

Three people turned around at once from under the pagoda tree.

From left to right: Sasha, Chris, and Ron.

And between their shifting bodies, she could now clearly see—

A man, tied up tightly to a rocking chair and gagged, unable to move.