Indeed, even when scandals arose, they always involved extraordinary individuals. To the residents of Halo, Penelope must have been a celebrity in every sense of the word. They likely waited with bated breath to see what would land her on the front page next.
‘The residents must all be dopamine addicts by now.’
Penelope sipped her wine. Somehow, it tasted a little bitter this time.
The treasurer spoke up.
“There are many matters we couldn’t relay to you through the communication orbs. Why not take three days to rest and begin inspecting the territory after that?”
“Oh, I can start tomorrow if needed.”
“We are well aware of how hard you’ve worked in the capital and the long journey you’ve endured—traveling by train and switching to carriages to get here. We’d ideally like you to take at least a week to rest, but... we’re sorry we can’t allow that much time. Still, please take at least two full days to rest and do absolutely nothing.”
The other retainers nodded in agreement, showing their support for the treasurer’s suggestion. Penelope felt touched once again. If there were a program like Our Precious Retainers Have Changed, this would be the moment where viewers would clap enthusiastically.
“But I heard that my parents have come to the castle?”
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“They are being well accommodated in the guest quarters. Surely, the Baron and Baroness Rencer would understand your situation.”
Would they?
Penelope wasn’t so sure.
Her parents were nobles from the Bayton territory, a remote mountain estate in the mid-northern region of the Elano Empire.
To Penelope, they were staunch traditionalists and rigid authoritarians, embodying the pride of nobility down to their bones.
Her father, Baron Noah Rencer, was particularly so, and her elder brother, Abe Rencer, was essentially a younger version of him. Meanwhile, her mother, Florin, was the quintessential provincial noblewoman, firmly believing that submission to her husband was a wife’s virtue.
‘Ugh. Memories of my childhood I’d rather not relive.’
Penelope had been raised in the Rencer household until she became an adult. It was a place where even the smallest deviation from tradition was promptly corrected.
At the time, Penelope had thought their way was correct and tried to live as modestly as possible. Her occasional acts of rebellion were limited to stealing meat pies or skipping her tutor’s lessons.
At seventeen, she began receiving lessons on how to be a proper bride from her mother. By the time she was twenty-one, she was married off in an arranged marriage orchestrated by her father to none other than the late Baron Halo.
‘Looking back, I endured it only because I didn’t know better. If I’d known about my previous life, I would’ve escaped long ago.’
Once married, the daughter of Baron Rencer became little more than an accessory to her husband. In other words, her parents had neither great expectations nor placed much value on her.
‘That’s probably why I never expected them to visit the territory.’
Sure, they might have wanted to benefit from their daughter’s newfound wealth and influence once or twice, but she had assumed they wouldn’t openly show it. Their rigid pride as traditionalists wouldn’t allow it.
She had grown optimistic, thinking the lack of communication from them thus far would continue.
‘But now they’ve shown up unannounced, without even sending a letter. Could it be that their estate has completely collapsed...?’
If their household had fallen to the point of selling their pride, then the situation would indeed change. Relying on their daughter would certainly be preferable to relying on strangers.
Penelope recognized the gravity of the situation.
“Hmm...”
“Why do you look so concerned?” the treasurer asked, snapping Penelope out of her thoughts.
“I’m feeling uneasy. I should meet with my parents tomorrow.”
“I’ve already conveyed my gratitude to Baron Rencer. We’ve made sure they are as comfortable as possible in the guest quarters, so there’s no need for you to worry.”
“What do you mean?”
What kind of nonsense is that?
Gratitude to her parents? Was the treasurer thankful they gave birth to her? Penelope tilted her head in confusion. The treasurer, looking slightly puzzled himself, clarified.
“Didn’t Baron Rencer’s assistance lead to our incredible success with the stock investments?”
“...What?”
“...What?”
The conversation seemed to drift off-track. Stocks profiting thanks to her father’s advice? What an absurd claim...
“Did I ever mention to you, Treasurer, that my father gave me such advice?”
“When you purchased the stocks last year, you clearly said so, didn’t you? You mentioned that you bought stocks recommended by your father. That’s how I remember it,” the Treasurer replied confidently.
“Oh, yes, I remember hearing that as well,” the steward chimed in.
If two people remembered it, then the matter took a different turn. Two memories were more reliable than one, after all.
“Wait... Oh no!”
Penelope’s eyes widened in realization.
"Out of the million, I invested two hundred thousand gold in stocks my father recommended. They’re bound to skyrocket next year, so I’ll just leave them for now."
“If your father mentioned it, it must have been reliable information,” the steward had replied back then.
...Damn. I actually said that.
At the time, she’d used her father as an excuse because it was hard to admit she’d bought the stocks on her own whim! She couldn’t very well say she recalled it from the original story, after all.
Back then, she had simply used the first excuse that came to mind, not realizing it would come back to haunt her like a boomerang.
The Treasurer glanced at Penelope nervously before cautiously asking, “Is something bothering you about this?”
“Well... actually... I lied about my father recommending the stocks. I couldn’t think of a convincing argument at the time, so I made it up on the spot.”
“...Pardon?”
The Treasurer gasped, and the other retainers couldn’t hide their shock either.
At the time, two hundred thousand gold had been a massive sum, enough to potentially destabilize the territory if lost. Investing such an amount without a solid reason was akin to admitting, “Your lord is a gambling addict.”
‘Think! Come up with another excuse!’
Penelope’s mind raced furiously, trying to conjure up a plausible explanation.
At that moment, Ahwin intervened.
“That was my recommendation, actually,” he said smoothly.
“Oh, was it now?”
“You remember how I was back then, don’t you? Penelope probably didn’t want to admit that I suggested it.”
“Ah, I see. That makes perfect sense,” the Treasurer replied, nodding.
The other retainers seemed to silently agree. Back then, Ahwin’s shabby appearance had been comparable to that of a beggar.
The steward murmured, “Penelope...?” under his breath but quickly cleared his throat and sipped his wine. The other retainers didn’t even glance in his direction.
‘Did we visit the Magic Tower branch before heading to the stock exchange back then?’ Sir Cain briefly furrowed his brows in thought, but failing to recall the details clearly, he let the matter slide. After all, it wasn’t important. Even if there had been an issue, the lord’s 100-fold return on the investment had more than compensated for it.
“When you expressed gratitude to my father, did he offer any objections?” Penelope asked, trying to piece things together.
“Now that you mention it... He didn’t say much. Neither confirming nor denying anything.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Penelope nodded knowingly.
“I suppose I’ll have to meet with my parents tomorrow. Steward, please arrange an invitation for afternoon tea.”
“As you wish,” the steward replied.
Though it was the steward who answered, it was Ahwin who looked more tense.
***
Meanwhile, at the same time, Giselle was surrounded by maids, all of whom were glaring at her with reddened eyes. They looked ready to pounce, growling like predators about to strike.
Laura, representing the maids, spoke up.
“So, is it really Sir Ahwin?”
“Yes, it is,” Giselle replied with a nod.
A gasp of disbelief came from somewhere in the group. Laura squinted suspiciously and pressed further.
“Are you absolutely sure? You’re not lying for money or anything? Because if you are, you might lose a hand.”
“I’m certain. I even saw the two of them holding hands.”
Giselle’s confident response made Dorothy frown in doubt.
“Holding hands isn’t new. They’ve done that before. Remember, they even hugged once?”
“That was when Sir Ahwin brought our lady to the top of the Magic Tower! That doesn’t count as normal! Obviously, that should be considered an exception.”
“How can something that happened be considered nonexistent...?” Dorothy muttered to herself. But her comment was promptly ignored by the other maids.
Giselle’s eyes narrowed as she clenched her fists resolutely.