The term "shadow plot" is defined in the dictionary as a "dark curtain" or a "sinister scheme concealed from view." In other words, it implies handling things in secrecy, as if aiming for the perfect crime—where only the effect, like a death, is noticeable.
"Of course, none of the real-life shadow masterminds have ever wrapped things up so cleanly," I said, tapping my fingers on the desk.
The mistakes they made could serve as reminders for me before and during any operation. The key lies in how they concealed the sins that lurked beneath those rare slip-ups.
After pondering for what felt like half an hour, I concluded with one answer: “The best approach is to keep orders short and precise, while planning even the reactions of those who receive them.”
This concept, though hard to grasp, is akin to this: when an elderly couple feels neglected by their children, they may start saying things like, "It’d be best if I just died of old age."
Yet, underlying those words is a plea: I feel so lonely. Please pay me some attention. Without explicit instructions, the children understand the message and bring grandchildren and fine food to visit their parents. The elderly parents, without directly asking, receive the care they desire.
“For the retainers of other factions whose debts I hold...”
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my office door.
“It’s Kris. May I enter?”
“Come in.”
Kris stepped in and handed me a stack of documents.
“As you’re aware, Baron Olbia and Baron Sicia are currently locked in a rivalry. Initially, Baron Olbia’s only move was to wear a gown made by a retired royal tailor at a ball, but...”
The danger in noble rivalries is that they snowball uncontrollably. It’s like when internet cafés begin slashing prices to attract students, starting at 700 won per hour, then cutting to 500, 400, and so on.
Initially, such cuts might help to outdraw competitors. But soon enough, they realize that their revenue is plummeting. Ideally, they’d settle on a fair rate, but competition outside of school is brutal, turning into a game of “you die, I survive.” In extreme cases, cafés might even start offering free food—ramen, hot dogs, even burgers at discounted costs.
In the end, customers benefit, but both café owners end up bankrupt. There’s a reason big corporations collude, I thought.
Baron Olbia’s rivalry seemed headed in a similar direction.
“When Baron Sicia heard the rumor Roberto spread, he worried that dressing less impressively would reflect poorly on his discernment. So, he went as far as hiring a former royal tailor to design even more extravagant attire.”
The internet café owners’ competition at least made sense—they were fighting to survive. But nobles’ competition for prestige defies all rationality.
As a baron myself, even I can’t understand it. One could simply spend on a ball gown and rein in costs elsewhere. Though an incompetent noble who dresses poorly would naturally invite scorn, a capable noble can wear simple clothes while managing lands effectively.
But these men, having peers with similar titles dressed more lavishly, grow bitter and can’t tolerate it. Sometimes, it’s downright incomprehensible.
“Thus, both the Sicia and Olbia households are pushing their spending to the limit. They’re even offering treats from Café Medici to their servants and outfitting stable hands with plated armor and swords for outings. More significant expenses include hosting biweekly balls and throwing elaborate feasts, which is extravagant for barons. At this rate, they’ll face severe financial troubles.”
I can imagine their thoughts: Please, let it stop! We’re on the verge of collapse! Yet, in noble honor duels, the first to bow loses. Apologizing signals submission, practically inviting the opponent to demand reparations.
Neither house realizes the hand orchestrating their ruin from behind.
“For the next few years, neither of those houses will be able to challenge you, Baron. They’ll be too occupied with recovering from this overspending.”
While things were playing out advantageously, Baron Olbia had nearly accused me of “lacking piety” over a trivial matter—selling coffee. While lacking piety isn’t a capital offense, handling the fallout would’ve been a nightmare. Left unchecked, that charge could’ve led to my estate being stripped down to half its value.
Simply watching him crash and burn from overspending wasn’t enough. I wanted to deliver a heavier blow—one that wouldn’t leave him realizing who’d struck him but would make him regret crossing our house. A revenge to savor quietly.
“This still feels insufficient. I need a more direct strike.”
Kris hesitated before replying.
“You’ve already preempted the political blow they were preparing.”
“The minimal objective was achieved long ago. Taking down Baron Sicia from the Sforza faction is just an added benefit.”
In life, preventive measures are essential—like vaccination. Though it costs money, no one considers it wasteful since it reduces the chance of major illness. While it’s impossible to preempt all life’s problems, addressing immediate threats is worthwhile.
“Besides, Baron Sicia is from an opposing faction. Striking him down would be favorable.”
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“Kris, if an opportunity to profit is right before you, would you stop now?”
“Unless there’s significant risk, I’d seize it. More money is always better.”
As a baron, living comfortably, I’d have no financial worries if I stopped here. My official wife is the granddaughter of the Visconti Duke, so while my wealth isn’t boundless, I can spend freely without depleting it.
But if I settle, my rivals will surpass me, coming for me with drawn swords to fill their own coffers.
“We haven’t fully tapped into our intelligence network’s potential yet. Although we’ve cornered them, they haven’t made their last moves.”
Their “ace in the hole” was likely the debt-encumbered retainers of various noble families. Injecting disinformation could spark a “political war” or even dismantle a house from within.
Just as the U.S. dropped Little Boy and Fat Man—primarily to force Japan’s surrender, but also to test the bombs’ true potential.
“Recently, I covered part of the interest owed by Baron Olbia’s financial steward. That’s how we got advanced warning of Olbia’s schemes.”
The information gained from that steward in exchange for financial relief was indeed rewarding. Having cleared a difficult quest, I deserved my reward.
“Forge a letter under the seal of the Trialle Merchant Guild. Send it to request a meeting; if he doesn’t show, threaten to demand repayment.”
The next day, I met with Baron Olbia’s financial steward in a secluded inn.