As she glanced up, she saw a man sitting leaning back at an angle, drinking a beverage.
Just as his head, which had been tilted back, turned straight ahead, Seo-a cautiously spoke up.
"May I... ask your name?"
The answer came easily, to the point where her cautious attitude seemed ridiculous.
“Oscar.”
"..."
"Oscar von Reichinhardt."
It was a name that sounded cool. It also felt like it suited the man in front of her.
However, what instantly stole Seo-a's nerves was the name attached to it.
Reichinhardt.
The moment she heard the name, which felt both elegant and intense, a long breath escaped from deep within her. A tingling sensation, like the food she hadn't eaten in days melting straight into her blood vessels, spread instantly from her heart through her entire body.
Thank God.
Her master was right when she said the wolf would come looking for her. She never imagined it would come this quickly.
Meanwhile, Oscar stood still and stared at a woman named Seo-ah.
A woman from a small, unheard-of country called Danguk.
Although her attire was ridiculous and one could sense she was terrified and at a loss, her fundamentally ingrained demeanor was upright. The straight shoulders, waist, and neat hands that his mother emphasized so much seemed to perfectly describe this woman's attitude. It was enough to make him want to show his mother just as she was, how she could be so perfectly upright with such a slender body that made him doubt if she even had any internal organs inside.
Moreover, the exposed skin looked so fragile that it seemed it would quickly scrape and bleed if rubbed. The same was true of the small fingertips; this was certainly not the work of a laborer.
A woman embracing various contradictions.
Oscar leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Then, as if stealing her gaze, he snatched it away from her, who could not meet his eyes for even a moment. Before her watery brown eyes could flee again, he tossed out a remark like a surprise attack.
"You said thank you for saving you."
"Yes."
"Then I want to receive the value you calculated."
"..."
Her already pale face turned even whiter. The more she did so, the more affectionate Oscar became.
"It's nothing big. I just have a few questions to ask. Could you answer honestly?"
She bit her trembling lips and nodded.
"You came from a distant place called Danguk. Holding the key to the Felphe Bank vault."
"..."
A silence concealing their respective ulterior motives hovered between the two. Oscar waited quietly like a wolf approaching its prey step by step, then pounced.
"How did you get that, and how did you get this far?"
That question was important to both Oscar and Seo-a.
This was even more so for Seo-a.
Go directly to the Royal Felphe Bank. Obtain the Certificate of Key Holder. Confirm that the visitor is Reichinhardt.
If you have followed along well up to this point, the next question will surely come up.
"How did you obtain the key, and why did you come all the way here?"
She could not answer that she was trying to find her biological father, whose face and name she did not know, by becoming bait herself.
She couldn't even answer that she had come to take revenge with his help and to escort her grandfather away.
Then, how can I take you completely? How can I make you think you can use me? How can I make you regard me as a pawn you can use and discard without any trouble?
"Money..."
"Money?"
Oscar asked with a smile. She nodded.
"Because I... need a lot of money."
First of all, she had to become a very easygoing person. She also had to avoid suspicion.
"Oh, do you need money?"
He asked softly again, and Seo-a answered, tightly clasping her hands on her knees.
"Yes."
In her fleeting view, she saw long, curved, beautiful blue eyes.
***
Perhaps because he had been involved in business since he was young, Oscar had a habit of scrutinizing the people he faced in minute detail. This 'minute detail' included their voice, eye contact, hand gestures, gait, and even the way they opened the door and entered.
Oscar sat leisurely opposite Seo-a, already on his second drink. In contrast to him having drunk two cups, Seo-a had only taken a few sips. It seemed she felt uncomfortable because he was staring at her like this.
Regardless, Oscar looked at Seo-a. Since she wasn't meeting his gaze, he felt at ease, as there was nothing for him to do with his eyes.
It was partly due to his habit of scrutinizing others, but there was also a certain amusement in watching it.
First of all, that attitude was amusing
She sat so perfectly still, without a single sway, that he felt he could bet his entire fortune that even the position of her toes beneath the table was level. Moreover, the movement of her fingertips as she examined the contract was truly like a mother dancing while singing. Her hands felt slow and heavy, as if the air resistance were different from anyone else's; and despite her face being flushed red from the fever, which made it clear she must be extremely hot, she didn't fan herself even once.
Leaving aside the clothes that looked at least twenty years old.
She clearly showed signs of being raised in a privileged environment, yet how on earth should he explain her attitude of being unable to even look people in the eye? It seemed more like a habit than fear, and it was too excessive to be called a cultural difference. Furthermore, she not only spoke Norfolk Common fluently but also knew how to read and write.
Then, is she perhaps some kind of illegitimate child of an aristocrat raised on eggshells?
"What are the terms of the contract?"
"...Ah."
"Tell me if there are any clauses you don't like."
He intended to change most of the clauses if necessary.
Except for the clause requiring her to be given a copy of the documents inside the safe and the condition that she would entrust her safety to him until the moment the safe was opened.
So, those weren't really conditions.
No matter how much the woman struggled, he had no intention of letting her go. Therefore, he hoped she would be obedient when he acted kindly and politely. For his sake, and for her own.
Just as his cold gaze—contrary to the affectionate daytime—reached the contract in Seo-a's hand, she spoke.
"You said you would pay 500 million Kerte every week on the condition that I entrust my safety to you..."
"Hmm?"
"How much is 500 million Kerte worth?"
Oscar let out a small smile and slowly nodded. Then, after gazing out the window once and at his clothes once, he spoke.
"By Norfolk's upper-class standards, a house worthy of being called a mansion in a typical kingdom capital is worth roughly 10 billion Kerte. Ah, excluding those called castles—since those aren't usually valued."
"Yes."
"Anyway, maintaining that would cost about 400 to 500 million Kerte a year. A suit like the one I'm wearing costs somewhere between 5 million and 10 million Kerte. But that's based on the upper class; the average annual income for the middle class is around 50 million kerte."
"..."
"You'll find out when you go to Felphe Bank later, but it will take at least half a year to open the vault. If you entrust your safety to me in the meantime, and in return receive protection and the price of a mansion... that's not bad, is it? If you add the money inside the vault, it will be quite a lot."
"..."
“Not enough?”
Oscar asked in a soothing tone that even he found absurd.
If she says it's not enough, just add more. I spend hundreds of millions on Felphe's idiot overnight, so what's the big deal?
As he was thinking this, Seo-a, who had been staring at the contract with a clear face, shook her head slightly.
“No, no.”
Then, lifting her eyes slightly and lowering them, she spoke.
“That’s enough.”
As she placed the contract down on the table, the part he had been holding was unevenly wrinkled. Oscar’s lips curled upward as he saw the tension-stained edge of the paper.
"Yes. If you feel it's lacking, let me know anytime."
He took a fountain pen out of his pocket and held it out.
“Then, shall we sign?”
Seo-a, who had been gazing at the fountain pen, carefully rose from her seat. Then, she neatly folded her hands and held them out.
Oscar's gaze instantly fell upon the clasped hands.
Hands that looked slender and soft, without a single callus, for someone who had come all the way to a distant foreign country in need of money.
As he placed the fountain pen on that hand, the clasped hands closed gently.
The woman holding the fountain pen sat back down, and this time, without opening the cap, she simply stared at the inside of her hand. Wondering what she was doing, he watched her closely, only to see her timidly examining it this way and that. And not even rolling the pen around, but tilting her head this way and that as if looking at a treasure in a museum.
"Is this the first time you've seen a fountain pen?"
"..."
“This is my first time seeing you.”
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