"The Emperor has acted too rashly. Granting a title just because of a few inventions? And to top it off, these are merely cosmetics and soaps used by women!"
"Exactly. Bestowing a baroness title for making soap? It's an insult to us nobles."
"This is something we can no longer ignore."
The nobles, fueled by strong whiskey, spewed their grievances, their discontent mounting as though they were ready to storm the imperial palace.
Lihenz’s face brightened.
He had merely set the stage, yet these high-ranking nobles were pouncing like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey. Among them were those who had pressured newspapers to publish articles questioning Penelope’s legitimacy as a noble.
They couldn’t bear to watch a young widow thrive after receiving a baroness title.
‘This is the power of social influence,’ Lihenz thought, curling his lips into a sly smile as he puffed on his cigar. The thought of Penelope struggling in despair sent a thrill up his spine.
‘Not yet. She needs to fall further. All the way to the bottom.’
He couldn’t wait to see her lose everything and grovel for money with a desperate, pitiful expression. It would be a sight worth savoring.
Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance of the social club.
"Have you seen the newspaper? They say Baroness Halo has placed an ad!"
"Oh, that? I just saw it. A noble advertising in a tabloid—it’s shameless, really..."
"But have you looked at the ad? It’s utterly bizarre!"
Lihenz couldn’t ignore the chatter.
‘An advertisement? What on earth is Penelope advertising now?’
He quickly signaled the club attendant to fetch the newspaper in question.
Other nobles, keen to maintain their decorum, stayed back, but their eyes were glued to Lihenz, awaiting his reaction.
"Here it is, sir."
Lihenz hastily unfolded the newspaper the attendant had brought. His gaze landed on the ad, and his eyes widened in shock.
"What is this...!"
He stared, dumbfounded.
The ad took up an entire page of the newspaper. At its center was the unmistakable Halo insignia—a green herb emblem. Nothing else. No product images, no detailed descriptions, just the emblem.
Beneath it, in small, concise text, the following message was written:
**[The goods sold at the Halo Soap Shop bear the official Halo insignia.
Please check for the green herb emblem before purchasing!
※Warning: The Halo Soap Shop is not responsible for any side effects caused by counterfeit products bearing a fake insignia.]**
‘What kind of ad is this?’
Lihenz stared at the newspaper, his face a mixture of disbelief and confusion.
***
In the bustling shopping district at the heart of the empire, particularly at the T-House on the cosmetics row, groups of women gathered around tea tables, engaged in intense discussions.
“This emblem is fake. The Halo Soap Shop emblem has three leaves, not two.”
“The flower bud should tilt slightly to the right. This one tilts too far.”
The sharp critique from two women caused another, who had been proudly showing off her supposed Halo cosmetics, to look crestfallen.
‘I should have known something was off with the price! I’ve been swindled!’
“Didn’t you hear about the recent incident? Someone used counterfeit Halo cosmetics and ended up with rashes and boils. That’s why I only buy Green Herb products directly from the Halo Soap Shop.”
“Me too! My skin is so sensitive that I’d never dare use anything that doesn’t come straight from the Halo store.”
“Exactly. These days, the first thing I check when buying cosmetics is the Halo emblem. But look at this! They’ve shamelessly copied the Green Herb emblem.”
“Absolutely. How bold of them to make counterfeits, yet so careless!”
The women pooled their knowledge to identify the fake emblems. They scrutinized the shape of the herb leaves, the number of leaves, the central flower bud, and even the faint shading details. Before long, they had become self-proclaimed experts on the Halo emblem.
This meticulous scrutiny was thanks to the full-page newspaper advertisement published by the Halo Soap Shop. With the fear of adverse side effects from counterfeit products hanging over their heads, the women diligently filtered out fake emblems, even as they angrily criticized the unscrupulous individuals selling counterfeit goods.
“When do you think the line at the Halo Soap Shop will get shorter?”
“Who knows? At this rate, we’ll end up spending the entire day here drinking tea instead of shopping.”
The women sighed heavily as they gazed at the long queue stretching down the street. The shop had already run out of numbered tickets due to the sheer volume of people.
Despite arriving at the shopping district fairly early, the women had failed to secure tickets. They had been outdone by those who had lined up in the pre-dawn hours, well before the shop even opened.
Since last week’s side effect incident, the number of people flocking to the Halo Soap Shop had skyrocketed—likely increasing tenfold, if not more. Consumers now refused to even consider other products, fearing the possibility of harmful effects if they weren’t using authentic Halo goods.
A woman holding a teacup sighed enviously as she watched another woman proudly carry a bag stamped with the Halo emblem.
“I hope some of those soaps and cosmetics are mine.”
“They will be. For sure.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll join the line at dawn too.”
“Me too.”
***
“Since the advertisement ran, sales at the soap shop have increased tenfold,” Pablo reported, unable to hide his amazement.
Penelope couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips, and a soft chuckle escaped her. Her plan had worked flawlessly.
‘As expected, a warning works far better than pleading innocence with the public.’
Drawing from her experience in online communities in her past life, Penelope had a deep understanding of mass psychology. She knew that people reacted more fervently to warnings and suspicions than to earnest explanations of injustice—especially when there was a chance they might be personally affected.
‘I knew this approach would work, but even I didn’t expect the response to be this overwhelming.’
Not only had sales rebounded, but the shop’s inventory had been completely sold out. They had resorted to distributing numbered tickets and limiting the amount each customer could purchase—a system Penelope herself had devised.
Lucas, still in awe, asked, “How did you come up with the idea to dedicate an entire page to just the Halo emblem? It’s become so popular that collecting the pages featuring the emblem has become a trend in the capital.”
“Oh, that? Well... I thought the business might collapse entirely, so the idea just came to me.”
Penelope brushed her nose nonchalantly as she replied.
Her inspiration came from her memories of her past life, where she had been surrounded by an onslaught of advertisements. Capturing people’s attention with a simple yet striking image was second nature to her.
This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.
‘Living through an era of advertisement overload gave me plenty of ideas to work with.’
However, to the people of this world, Penelope’s concept was nothing short of revolutionary. Advertising here was typically limited to product catalogs with detailed instructions or small, functional announcements about new train platforms or major store openings. Full-page newspaper ads simply didn’t exist.
The sight of a single, iconic emblem occupying an entire page was unprecedented and astonishing.
“Baroness, the more I observe you, the more I realize how differently you think compared to us,” Lucas remarked, admiration in his voice.
“I feel the same. It’s no wonder you continue to succeed,” Pablo added.
“That’s enough flattery, thank you. It’s embarrassing,” Penelope said as she snapped her notebook shut. The fatigue from the past week’s crisis management suddenly caught up with her, leaving her body heavy and drained.
Even sitting still made her vision swim, and the mere sight of the sofa made her want to collapse onto it. After nearly a week of sleepless nights, she was utterly exhausted.
Lucas, noticing her state, voiced his concern. “I’ll handle the rest. You should rest now.”
“I think I will,” Penelope replied, stretching as she spoke. Just then, Giselle, who had been serving tea, interjected.
“You must eat something before you sleep.”
“Hmm... Can’t I just sleep first?”
“I’ve already asked the chef to prepare a meal in the dining hall. If you’re too tired, at least have some soup before you rest.”
“Fine.”
With Giselle’s persistent nagging, Penelope reluctantly made her way to the dining hall.
True to Giselle’s words, the table was laden with food. But to Penelope’s surprise, she found someone unexpected waiting there—Sain.