The Heroines Are After My Fortune

2 – A Mad Dog Under the Wings

Talent,

Something everyone craves, hopes to find within themselves.

Same here. Figured, since I’d been pulled into the story like this, I’d at least have some talent in swordplay or magic.

“Sword fighting ain’t gonna pay the bills.”

“Zero talent in magic, either.”

Yeah, I got jackshit.

Quickly realizing I had no fighting talent, I worked my ass off, barely able to make enough money to keep food on the table and set aside a bit for Elena’s academy fees.

One day, I was out doing my usual hustle when I spotted this weird old coot sitting under an ash tree.

‘Clothes are ratty, but that face is glistenin’ with grease?’

In this neighborhood, most old-timers are beat down and ragged, clothes and faces worn to hell. Felt like somethin’ was off with this guy. I wracked my brain, tryin’ to recall the original plot.

“The Marquis, sensing urgency when the Papal See put forth a Saintess as a marriage prospect for the merchant prince Yulman, did some digging. He discovered Yulman’s fondness for ash trees, and, staging an ‘accidental’ meeting with his daughter Renee there, succeeded in marrying her off to the wealthiest man in the Empire.”

‘Merchant Prince Yulman Loewen…!’

He doesn’t even appear in the original story, having died of old age before it began, but his name is frequently mentioned. Just before he died, he married, and the woman who inherited his fortune became the villainess who tormented Elena relentlessly.

Renee Este.

Renee’s torment of Elena wasn’t even because she coveted the male leads Elena got involved with. It was ‘just because she was a commoner, and irritating.’ You could call her a born b*tch. I had to stop that hag from marrying that old man somehow. The butterfly effect from that marriage was ridiculously large, and fixing it later would take dozens of times the effort.

‘First, I need to befriend that old geezer.’

A novice would rush in and try to force a conversation, but befriending someone you’ve just met, with no connection, requires patience and analysis. I spent about two weeks observing him from afar, analyzing him.

‘He likely thinks there’s barely anyone who understands his world, and is so jaded by the swarms of jackals always after him, he’s built a wall around his relationships. There’s a perfect approach for a man like that.’

I put on my most innocent-youthful face and walked over to the tree, casually leaning against it. Enjoying the gentle breeze, I quietly murmured,

“This place, under this tree, it’s quite nice, isn’t it?”

“……………”

The old man didn’t answer. He hadn’t let his guard down, looking at me with a narrowed gaze.

“…… Zzzz…”

I discovered I’d fallen asleep within a minute, the tree being so comfortable. I was actually aiming to test the waters a bit, say a few more lines, but exhaustion got the better of me. When I woke up, I slapped myself on the forehead for my idiocy.

‘A moron, what a blunder…!’

I’d slept so soundly there was a pool of drool around my chin. After working for 16 hours yesterday, my body just couldn’t take it anymore. Then, a hand reached out from beside me, offering something.

“Here, wipe yourself.”

It was an antique, yet not cheap-looking, handkerchief. I wiped my chin and, embarrassed, returned it to the old man.

“…Thank you.”

“You slept quite soundly, young man.”

The old man, he chuckled, pleased. A minor slip-up on my part, but that genuine mess of it seemed to have struck a chord in him. And so, I forged a bond of ‘liking to sit under the ash tree together,’ and became his company. That’s Yulne, it’s ridiculously hard to get in, but once trust is given, the speed at which you become close is crazy fast.

‘Geez, is this going to get me a spot somewhere?’

Whether it was the Baron’s estate or the merchant guild, didn’t matter. Both were golden tickets to me, who was currently wallowing in the dirt, grasping at small change.

‘Please, for the love of god, stick me somewhere sweet and give me a fat raise.’

Such worldly desire tried to claw its way up my throat, but I desperately choked it back, acting like, ‘Oh, I don’t want anything~’

Then, one day, I felt something had gone horribly wrong. The old man hadn’t come looking for me in about a month.

‘…Shit.’

My only lifeline just disappeared like that? Unthinkable. I racked my brain, wondering what mistake I’d made, but I couldn’t come up with a single thing.

‘Maybe…was he disappointed by my lack of ambition…?’

Considering his character, having built up a merchant guild and climbed to nobility, should I have shown a bit more hunger? There was even a twinge of regret. But what could I even do about it now? Every spare moment I had, I went to the ash tree, waiting for him. It was the only thing I could do.

Even on days the sun beat down so hard it felt like it’d burn you alive,

‘Old man, you back…?’

Even in the pouring rain,

‘Old man, you coming…?’

Even on the days thunder cracked and lightning nearly fried me where I stood,

‘Old man, I’m cold….’

I waited like some desperate crypto-trader, going to seed, hoping the old man would show. This time, if he even just showed up, I’d beg for some kind of small job, I swore. Then, one day, a fancy-looking carriage pulled up by the tree.

“Are you Mr. Aiden?”

The reward for that long, long wait was sweeter than anything I could have imagined.

For about a week, I played the role of chief mourner at Yulnemann’s funeral, silent and dutiful. Even for a man judged cold and uncaring, he’d had close friends. Each time they teared up, I’d squeeze out whatever dampness I could from the corners of my eyes, like forcing the last bit of toothpaste, and weep with them.

“Kuh-heuk, my father mentioned Müller in his letters. They fought, sure, but he was the friend he trusted most. K-heuk, the thought of them not meeting again breaks my heart…”

“Keu-heup, to think, that man of ice had such a warm son… truly, he left this world without a worry in his heart.”

I strung along invented stories, working with all my might, forcing out tearful performances each day to leave a good impression. Thank the heavens, this charade ends today.

“Hoo, exhausting…”

I collapsed onto the fur sofa Yulnemann used to favor and sighed. Then, the head butler approached and asked.

“Wouldn’t it be better for Elena-nim to return to the manor, at least for today’s final funeral rites?”

My younger sister, Elena, was also recognized as a legitimate daughter, so the butler’s query was natural enough. But I shook my head.

“I’ll bring her when things have settled. These recent events are too much for her to handle. Later, we siblings will have our own quiet time to send off our father.”

“……Understood.”

The butler bowed low. This was an era where the man held the larger role, wasn’t it? With me, the son, present, Elena’s absence at this event wouldn’t matter much. Frankly, aside from everything else, the main thing was, I wanted to bring her back when the manor felt less somber from the funeral, more bright and lively.

“Tomorrow, the branch managers of the Roen Merchant Guild are coming to discuss business with Aiden-nim.”

“Isn’t that a little soon?”

It was only the day after the funeral. I’d become Yulnemann’s heir, inherited the barony and the merchant guild, but I barely understood how any of it worked. Their haste surely meant something.

“It’s not certain, but the previous Roen Baron did much rearranging and put in place many changes, so the young master would receive the business and operate it with the least amount of difficulty. He was an absolute presence in the guild, so everyone followed his lead without a word, but with some trade routes gone and profits down, some are likely disgruntled.”

“Hmm, so…”

I straightened up from leaning back, and tapped my chin.

“They couldn’t question my father, but they figure I’m a pushover, easy to manipulate, barely in the saddle, so they’re coming to try their luck, is that it?”

“… While your expression is a bit intense, the context is quite close to what I believe.”

‘Heh, look at these cheeky b*stards.’

Ah, Yul-father, how could you have lived like that?

These mosquito b*stards, the moment you die, they’re all set on sucking dry the trading company you so painstakingly built. I, Aiden Roen, your son born of your heart, will personally teach these shits a lesson.

“Housekeeper, I’ve got something interesting to show, so please prepare a bunch of paper and pens for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Understood. May I ask, what will you use them for…?”

“You’ll see. Oh, and by any chance, are you good at writing?”

They say long ago, the dead Kongming defeated the living Zhongda.

I’ll show them, just how to peddle a corpse.