A royal pawn planted in Mistfall City—this was Konehl-Ghervil’s assessment of Brabant.
After a brief period of despondency, she rallied her spirits, instructing the man to drive her along the newly opened peripheral road to the three-hundred-acre orchard and farmland nestled behind the abbey.
Unable to alter the reality of her burgeoning debt, she could only devise a means to settle it.
She discovered several discrepancies.
Brabant’s claim was that he had received notification only that morning.
This was a transparent lie; it being morning, contracts and detailed bills required meticulous verification, rendering it utterly unrealistic for them to have been prepared by that hour.
Upon reaching the orchard, the man’s demeanor confirmed her suspicions.
He expertly unlatched the fence gate, guiding her to a freshly tilled expanse where the furrows were meticulously spaced four to five meters apart.
“This area, being higher in elevation, is less prone to waterlogging.
The soil is specially prepared sandy loam, and there’s no place nearby better suited for cultivating black figs.”
Walking a few dozen meters to the south, they reached a slope adorned with wooden trellises approximately two meters high.
“The south-facing slope offers protection from the harsh winter winds, thereby mitigating the risk of frost damage.
October is fast approaching, and I recommend selecting high-quality Pinot Noir grape saplings for cultivation. Should you lack connections, I would be delighted to introduce you to trustworthy merchants.”
Over the next half hour, he outlined the plans for numerous other sections, suggesting that by simply following the systematic approach, a flourishing orchard bearing fruit year-round could be established.
The farmlands, he explained, were primarily designated for wheat and spices.
Should she follow Brabant’s confident plan to cultivate all three hundred acres, deducting costs, worker wages, and other essential expenditures, she would be able to clear her debt within a few short years.
While it sounded idyllic, Konehl-Ghervil was far from naive.
The initial investment in time, labor, and resources would be considerable, not to mention the challenges of establishing sales channels and other unforeseen issues.
His eloquent presentation, she realized, was merely a ploy to encourage her to take out more loans, transforming the property into a grand estate while simultaneously boosting the bank’s bottom line.
For the bank, it was a win-win.
She, however, possessed a more efficient method for settling her debts without expending such considerable effort.
Drawing upon observations from her previous life, she knew that when merchants failed in business and owed the bank a substantial sum, it was not the merchants who panicked, but the bank. Applying the principle that ‘a debtor who doesn’t repay is a king’ (TL Note: A Chinese saying implying that the one owed money is often more anxious than the one who owes it), she instantly felt a surge of confidence facing the man.
“I have two demands to put forth.”
“Demands?” Brabant paused, momentarily stunned, as he mentally reviewed his plan for any overlooked flaws or misinterpretations.
Ignoring his internal deliberation, Konehl-Ghervil brazenly crossed her arms.
“First, you will dispatch dedicated maids to clean the abbey weekly, at your convenience.”
The sprawling edifice occupied an area roughly equivalent to fifteen football fields; even if she and Govet-Ghervil toiled themselves to exhaustion, they would never finish cleaning it.
“Second, you will find a way to lease out the three hundred acres of orchard and farmland, with the rent directly applied to my debt.”
“My mood is rather agreeable today, so for now, these are my only two stipulations.”
Confronted with such audacious demands, Brabant uncharacteristically stroked his chin, his brow furrowing in thought.
Given the young lady’s esteemed status, he could neither dismiss her lightly nor resort to the tactics typically employed against unreasonable individuals.
“I understand your requests, but please forgive us, the bank is unable to fulfill either of these demands.”
“Reasons.”
The response was precisely as she had anticipated.
A faint, knowing smile played upon the young woman’s lips.
‘Soon, you shall bear witness to the insidious nature of humanity, honed over nearly a century.’
“Regarding your first point, Solis Abbey permits entry only to its internal members—that is to say, yourself, Konehl-Ghervil. Any non-abbey member who enters would be seen as a grave disrespect to the Goddess, and the consequences…”
The man left the consequences unstated, promptly moving on to her second demand.
“As for the orchard and farmland, it is unlikely we can find suitable tenants in such a short timeframe, and the bank simply does not possess the resources to…”
“I wish for you to understand one thing, sir.”
She cut him off.
“My owing these 3,000 Trin Gold Coins is entirely the fault of your bank. His Majesty granted me 40,000 Trin Gold Coins for the repair and expansion of the abbey, yet you unilaterally used 43,300 Trin Gold Coins. Would this not be considered the unauthorized misappropriation of another client’s funds?”
“That does not alter the fact that you incurred the debt and affixed your signature.”
“If I were to publicly announce at the bank’s entrance tomorrow that you had misappropriated funds, investing them in a manner that led to a client’s debt, do you believe people would trust a nun from Solis Abbey, or a bank branch?”
The man’s brow furrowed even deeper; it was not merely a branch, but even the head office would struggle to emerge favorably from such a hypothetical situation without royal intervention.
Konehl-Ghervil had no intention of letting him off the hook.
“To be entrusted with such a substantial operation suggests a strong relationship with the branch manager, or perhaps you are, in fact, the true head of the Mistfall City branch. Should this escalate, the majority of the repercussions would undoubtedly fall upon you.”
“I will withdraw the first demand, but as for the second…”
She lowered her voice, a hint of amusement playing in its depths.
“Mr. Brabant, surely you wouldn’t wish for your position at the bank to become precarious, would you?”
Two sayings circulated among the police circles of Canary Street: ‘If Sister Konehl-Ghervil bestows upon you an innocent, harmless smile, do not let your piggish mind be captivated by it; instead, reflect deeply on whether you have offended her in some way.’
‘If you cannot pinpoint your transgression, it matters not. Apologize immediately before the situation worsens, and the benevolent Sister Konehl-Ghervil will surely forgive you, though it may come at a small price.’
To some extent, Brabant was now experiencing the truth behind these rumors.
“Allow me to reintroduce myself: Jean-Brabant, Branch Manager of the Royal Bank, Mistfall City.”
With profound humility, he placed his left hand over his chest and executed a perfect ninety-degree bow.
“Please forgive my previous impertinence and concealment. Once the lease contract is drafted, I shall personally mail it to you. May the Goddess be with you.”
****
After seeing the man off, Konehl-Ghervil felt an unprecedented lightness of spirit, and she proceeded to casually tour several buildings within the abbey, finding the church and dormitories to be remarkably faithful to her memories.
She made her way to the room the abbess had initially arranged for her, noting that the washroom was impeccably appointed, thoughtfully equipped with an electric water heater.
Flipping the switch to heat the water, she settled onto the edge of the bed, admiring the view.
The former forest had been cleared for cultivation, and a wide river flowed past the edge of the farmlands.
A small dam had been constructed, diverting streams for irrigation.
Several egrets stood gracefully on the dam, while in the distance, verdant grassy slopes stretched under a clear sky.
It was utterly serene, yet imbued with an almost surreal quality.
‘Situated at the forest’s edge, the Queen’s reward is indeed quite generous…’
Once her appreciation had run its course, she descended the stairs.
Lingering too long in such a solitary place, one would inevitably be assailed by nostalgic loneliness, recalling the abbess, and that morning when she was tasked with delivering the briefcase, her clever attempt to hide the potion having been seen through.
Beyond the flowerbed in front of the main entrance, she discovered a large garden behind the bell tower. It was barren of flowers, but she resolved to plant it entirely with Blood Rose (TL Note: A type of flower explicitly forbidden from cultivation.).
As this particular flower was explicitly forbidden from cultivation, planting it in secret was a necessity.
After returning to her room to indulge in a generous, undiluted hot bath, the hour had advanced to noon.
On her way back, she passed through Canary Street, where the morning market had already dispersed. She managed to procure some wheat, bread, and dried meat, but fresh vegetables and fruits would have to wait until she could arrive early the next day.
Reaching the intersection of Lily of the Valley Street, she slowed her pace, contemplating the unavoidable problems that lay ahead.
While her threatening tactics had proven effective against the bank manager, they would surely fail against the unreasonable doctor from the hospital department…
Scenes from last night flashed through her mind; repeating the same trick would undoubtedly lead to a disastrous outcome.
Without a source of income, she had no idea when she would ever repay the two hundred Trin Gold Coins.
‘Perhaps I should pretend nothing happened and try to delay her visit to the bank?’
‘Or confess to her, retract my resignation, and resume my assistant duties…’
Neither option seemed viable.
Lost in her dilemma, she found herself unconsciously standing before the door of Room 101.
Glancing back at Room 100, she set down her purchases and gently tapped on the door, wary of disturbing the occupant across the hall.
Fortunately, Govet-Ghervil’s hearing was sharp, and the door opened after only a few knocks.
“Quick, close the door! Don’t let her realize I’m home.”
Snatching up the food, she intended to make a swift dash away from the perilous and easily exposed doorway.
Instead, she stumbled directly into a soft embrace.
Thump.
The room door clicked shut.
Her throat worked, swallowing a mouthful of saliva.
‘Damn it…’
‘I forgot this woman considers Room 101 her home too!’