Mikhail (5)****
In the private forest of Count Zakharov, near the capital.
The banquet held after the hunt was truly a contest of 'Mikhail'.
"Look here. My son is in the navy, and he brought back a rare spice that only grows in the southern archipelago. When I put this in, the taste is absolutely magnificent."
"Hoho, that's impressive indeed! I simply put in ordinary orange peel and cinnamon."
The noble men and women were busy clinking their ornate glasses, boasting about the taste and aroma of the 'Mikhail' they had infused with their own secret methods.
Now, in the high society of the capital, not having one's own 'recipe' meant one wasn't even qualified to join the conversation.
A step away from that boisterous crowd.
Marchioness Katharina von der Hoya sat with a stiff face, only fanning herself.
'I should have bought it then!'
She recalled the events of a tea party hosted by Marchioness Varrier a month ago.
She had snorted and said:
'My, my, the good-for-nothing Mikhail still hasn't come to his senses even after being exiled, and now he's in the liquor business? With his name and even his seal on it. How could he be so vulgar? As expected of his bloodline….'
The result was disastrous.
Never mind the Blue Label, even the entry-level Red Label's price had skyrocketed to the point where it was now unobtainable even through black market dealers.
"Oh my, Marchioness von der Hoya."
Just then, a voice as sweet as honey yet as sharp as a dagger pierced her ear.
It was Katharina's arch-rival, Countess Henrietta de la Roche.
"What are you thinking about all alone over here? Would you like to taste my 'Mikhail' as well?"
Henrietta ostentatiously held out the glass containing the alcohol she had personally infused right in front of her nose.
"I added a bit of vanilla, cacao nibs, and hazelnut, and the aroma is quite profound."
The faint aroma wafting from it was certainly charming, but to Katharina, it was like a nauseating stench.
Henrietta's eyes glinted wickedly.
"So, I'm also very curious about what the Marchioness's Mikhail tastes like. Could you perhaps share a little of your secret recipe?"
It was a clear provocation.
She was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound, knowing full well that Katharina had failed to acquire any 'Mikhail'.
This bitch had always been like this.
Ever since their academy days, she had always stolen the men she liked, and even snatched Count de la Roche.
And now, even 'Mikhail'.
The Mikhail in that glass, that was clearly meant to be hers.
If that detestable bitch hadn't bought it for a premium, it surely would have been.
Ppajik-
Something snapped inside Katharina's head.
"You, fucking."
Jjaenggeurang!
She slapped the glass Henrietta offered out of her hand.
The ornate crystal glass fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.
All the noise in the banquet hall stopped as if by a lie.
"Slut!"
With a trembling hand, Katharina took off her white silk glove and threw it in Henrietta's face.
***
Profits. Growth rate. Market share.
The regular report meeting, usually a boring and pedantic affair filled with mountains of documents, was, unlike usual, incredibly fascinating.
"So? Who won?"
Sensing the strong smell of a soap opera, Mikhail, whose eyes were shining uncharacteristically, pressed for the rest of the story.
"Both of them died."
"…What?"
Her reply was so very nonchalant.
"One in the neck, the other in the heart. Their rapiers pierced each other's vital points precisely, and they died on the spot. It was a mutual kill."
"Uhm…"
Mikhail was at a loss for words for a moment.
This wasn't a soap opera; it was hardcore action.
"Huh. Those two, as far as I know, were quite… high-ranking nobles, weren't they?"
In Mikhail's memory, both families were prestigious houses with considerable influence in the capital's high society.
"And yet, they both died in a duel? Things must be in an uproar, right? Did the bereaved families or the government have a duel of their own and hold a series of funerals or something?"
"No, Your Highness."
Laura shook her head.
"Rather, the atmosphere in the capital is one of praising the two, saying it was a truly 'honorable duel,' the likes of which have been rare in recent times."
"Aha…."
Mikhail lifted the water glass on his desk and took a sip.
'My, my… how barbaric.'
He knew this was a place where a human life was worth less than a fly's, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad.
He asked, trying his best to hide his expression.
"So?"
"They say a play based on the two of them is already being staged. The title is [Katharina and Henrietta]. It's said to be a story about tragic love and honor. Of course, our merchant guild has provided some production support."
"Puheub…!"
Mikhail almost spat out the water he was drinking.
To think there were people who could desecrate the dead with such speed and on such a grand scale.
But it was interesting.
Don't they say the most interesting things to watch in the world are fires and fights?
Feeling good after a long while from the interesting story, Mikhail turned his eyes back to the documents on the desk.
Seeing him focusing on the documents, unlike his usual self, Laura smiled with satisfaction and continued her report.
"So, according to the report, thanks to that, the recognition and intrinsic value of our alcohol have further increased…"
But the contents of the report did not enter Mikhail's eyes at all.
"Ah, ah. I get the gist. You're saying we're making a lot of money, right? That's enough of that boring talk."
"...Pardon?"
"More importantly, isn't what we're going to do with this money more important?"
Mikhail leaned back in his chair with an expression as if he were suppressing a yawn.
At that, Laura was momentarily speechless.
This incredible profit report was just 'boring talk' to him?
She tried her best to regain her composure and spread out the business expansion plan she had prepared in advance in front of him.
"As you say, Your Highness. So I was thinking, how about we use these profits to expand our production facilities?"
Confidence was once again present in her voice.
"Currently, we are struggling to handle the volume of orders pouring into our merchant guild. Especially in the case of the Blue Label, the supply is not keeping up with the demand at all."
"So?"
"We must bring in a few more continuous stills and modernize the bottling facilities to drastically increase production. Now is the optimal time for business expansion, Your Highness. While the scarcity of luxury goods is important, such an excessive supply shortage will only lead to a massive loss of opportunity cost."
Her words were reasonable.
As a merchant, there was nothing more foolish than missing out on the profits right in front of her.
But Mikhail's reaction was cold.
"Rejected."
Just one word.
He shook his head without even looking at the spread-out plan.
"I refuse that proposal."
"…May I ask for the reason?"
Laura's voice trembled slightly.
She couldn't understand.
"Is this a difficult technology?"
Mikhail asked back.
"The thing we use to make the Blue Label. We just use good ingredients to extract the alcohol cleanly, run it through the continuous still several times, and then filter it with charcoal, right? Isn't that it?"
"."
"That charcoal is a bit special, I'll admit. It's not just charcoal, it's activated carbon. But you know, after a while, everyone will be copying it anyway. There are no secrets in the world."
Mikhail let out a small laugh.
"Rather than that, it would be better to drastically increase the production of the Red Label and lower the price even more."
"Lower the price, you say?"
"Yes. Very cheaply. To the point where people can drink it like water. We completely dominate the market. That's enough."
Laura was confused.
Low-price, high-volume sales.
It was a classic strategy, but it was an act that would diminish the brand value of 'Mikhail' on its own.
"Then, what do you intend to do with the Blue Label…"
"The Blue Label is perfect as it is now."
Mikhail's eyes shone playfully.
"No, in fact, we should make it even more precious than it is now."
He said, counting on his fingers like an excited child.
"You know the most famous painters in the capital? We'll give them a bundle of money and have them draw the pictures for the label. And the bottles, instead of just mass-producing them in a factory, we'll call in glass artisans and have them make each one by hand."
"…"
"Ah, this would be good too! We'll collaborate with artists like theater troupes or orchestras. Something like a [Katharina and Henrietta] commemorative limited edition. We could sell it only to people who have a ticket to the premiere of that play. Drawing a scene from the play on the label would be perfect."
His ideas were endless.
"There are annual festivals, or you know, special days, right? We'll make and sell a 'special limited edition' every time. Then the noble sirs will be dying to get their hands on it, don't you think?"
Laura couldn't say anything for a moment.
In her mind, the words Mikhail had poured out were quickly being assembled and analyzed.
This wasn't just about selling alcohol.
It was about selling a 'work of art,' an 'experience,' and an 'object of desire.'
By adding the 'scarcity' of being able to buy it only at 'that moment'.
She muttered to herself without realizing it.
"…It's a concept like the vintage of wine."
"Well, something like that."
Mikhail shrugged.
At that reaction, Laura returned to reality.
"But Your Highness. With that level of investment, the expenditure is far too small compared to the massive profits we have earned."
She once again asked a fundamental question.
"Money is like water; it rots if it stagnates. With the remaining money… what on earth do you intend to do?"
Mikhail, as if he had been waiting, smiled very brightly.
It was a face full of pure joy, like a child showing off his favorite toy.
"We play."
"…Pardon?"
"With fire."
At that one phrase, Laura's mind went completely blank.
Play?
With fire?
She desperately tried to interpret those words positively.
"Are you perhaps thinking of holding grand banquets periodically?"
Her voice was cautious.
"That is not a bad idea. Banquets can be a very effective means of promoting the 'Mikhail' brand and building a political foundation by interacting with other nobles…"
"Nah, why would I do something like that?"
Mikhail cut her off, waving his hand.
"It's no fun at all. To be honest, the banquet during the last festival was a pain in the ass."
"…"
"What I'm talking about isn't something like that. It's a game, a game."
A game?
A sensation like her heart had dropped with a thud.
No way.
With a feeling of 'no way,' she asked, holding on to her last hope.
"...By any chance, was chess your hobby?"
"No."
A firm denial.
At that moment, every positive circuit of hope in Laura's mind snapped.
Only one thing came to her mind.
Gambling.
Dice, cards, and dominoes.
The foolish and utterly vulgar act of betting everything on a moment's luck.
It was what she, as a merchant, despised the most.
For a moment, a feeling of disappointment welled up from within her like a nauseating flame of sulfur.
The feeling of her trust being betrayed.
Despite the ominous rumors of him being a good-for-nothing, she had thought he was somehow different when she met him in person.
If it was this man, if it was this strange grand duke.
She had thought it would be fine to invest everything the Valeriano Merchant Guild had.
Rustle!
The paper she was holding in her hand crumpled powerlessly.
Her cat ears lay flat back, as if in anger.
Behind her back, under her dress, she could feel her tail stiffen and its fur bristle up.
The back of her skirt around her hips puffed up unnaturally.
Laura barely held on to her reason.
Her face was frozen cold.
For a final confirmation, she gathered the last piece of her remaining faith and opened her mouth.
Please.
Hoping that it wasn't true.
"…Are you talking about, gambling?"
Mikhail fully felt Laura's disappointment and contempt.
But her ears and tail, which moved on their own due to her uncontrollable emotions, were just too cute.
Mikhail simply smiled and looked directly into Laura's trembling eyes.
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