Misfortune 59

Chapter 59

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The man's face sank into the greenery, past the peak of summer and destined only to wither.

Marcel dropped his head to the ground to swallow the urge to grab hold of her as she slipped away. Maybe it was to stop his mouth from begging her not to go.

The rusted door frame came into view, and her tiptoeing behind it never looked so heartbreaking.

He couldn't believe he had lost her through such an insignificant door.

She couldn't get out of this door. Her status as a slave made it so.

And him?

Was there any way he could reach her on the other side of this door, any way he could free her from this prison-like mansion?

After a long moment of staring down at his feet, Marcel looked up again.

His ashen eyes glowed as hard as ever as he stared at the empty spot where Delnia had disappeared.

***

"Colonel."

A gentle knock on the study door brought Roan's head up from its lowered position at his desk.

"Come in."

As soon as permission was granted, the butler hurried inside.

His face, which had recently deepened in wrinkles, wore a puzzled, perplexed expression, as if he had just encountered an unexpected accident. It was so unlike Milan, who strove to remain calm in any situation.

"You, uh, have a visitor."

"A visitor?"

Roan glanced toward the window, the distant hoot of an owl adding to the deepening night.

The mansion was silent, as if it had never been busy. It was an unwelcoming time for any unwelcome guests.

"Who is it?"

"Well, he introduced himself as Sir Marcel Fabron de Montpellier."

An unwelcome guest, indeed.

Roan grimaced; he had a vague idea what the honorable gentleman's purpose in visiting him was, to commit such an outrageous act of rudeness.

"Show him to the parlor."

Instead of dismissing the unwelcome visitor, Roan agreed to meet.

The butler bowed and hurried out of the study to carry out his instructions.

Unlike the butler, who had responded as if he were going straight to greet the guest, Roan took his time.

Since the guest had been the first to be rude, there was no need to hurry and waste his time.

After a more detailed review than usual, Roan finally stopped and stood up.

Stepping outside, he was greeted by a deserted hallway with not an ant in sight.

Roan glanced in the direction of his bedroom for a moment before turning his back and descending the stairs.

He burst through the parlor door without knocking, and the man sitting uncomfortably on the dark green couch rose unsteadily to his feet.

"Colonel Barthez."

Roan jerked his gaze toward the butler, not at the man who'd greeted him.

The butler stepped out, and an uncomfortable silence immediately fell over the two men in the parlor.

Roan silently walked over and sat down across from Marcel. There was no need for a cordial greeting anyway.

Marcel turned to face him and straightened his back even further.

Last time, he looked like he was going to burst if you stomped on him. Today, he looked more like a man.

Or maybe it was impatience.

"I'm sorry it's so late."

Roan didn't respond to the empty apology. Instead, he opened the cigar case on the table and asked a casual question.

"Would you like a smoke?"

"No, I'm fine."

Roan nonchalantly lit the cigar and popped it into his mouth while memories of a similar conversation with him flashed through his mind.

Then, leaning back on the sofa, he took a deep drag on his cigar. It was a rather arrogant posture in front of his guest.

"Let's just get straight to the point, or we'll be wasting our time."

His tone was even more blatant than before.

But Marcel didn't care. As Roan pointed out, he was the one who was rude.

"I'll be straightforward, then, about the matter of Miss Delnia's residence."

Roan nodded nonchalantly at the bombastic tone, as if he were making a declaration.

There was no reason for this man to have rushed all the way out here like a colt with its tail on fire, and the woman was the only reason he'd come anyway.

"Please transfer her slave papers and the authority that comes with them to me."

But what came next surprised even Roan.

"Of course, I don't just ask for it. I'll pay whatever price you want."

A price.

That was all Roan needed to hear before he let out a short laugh.

Marcel's face stiffened at the insult of being laughed at. Regardless, Roan opened his mouth, his cigar tilted at an angle.

"So, you want to buy her? You want me to sell her to you?"

Marcel frowned at the crassness of the statement.

But he didn't retort. No matter how he dressed it up, it was still true.

Marcel Fabron wanted to buy a woman from Roan Barthez.

Roan was surprised, but not because he had never imagined such a transaction.

It was probably the first thing he would have thought of if the roles were reversed. In fact, he'd had a couple of people offer him a shady deal right after he'd gotten the woman.

But never in his wildest dreams had he expected to hear these words from the mouth of the young master.

"That's quite an offer. I thought you had personally advised me to treat her as a human being."

Roan said sarcastically, his voice laced with mockery.

Still, it was better to be open about his feelings than to be hypocritical and pretend to be noble. At least he didn't have to choose his words.

"Well, if you covet someone else's goods, money is the quickest and surest way to settle it. I'm beginning to feel like we're on the same page."

Roan turned to the man who had finally fallen to the same lowly level as him, and greeted him with a welcoming smile. The clenched fist Marcel had on his lap seemed to be Roan’s reward for the hospitality.

Roan savored the self-loathing on the man's face. That he didn't feel the need to prove his nobility by speaking it out loud was admirable.

"So you're accepting my offer?"

Marcel was willing to negotiate.

He was definitely willing to negotiate.

Not that Roan was inclined to accept.

"No."

Roan's tone cut Marcel's hopes short.

"I have no intention of selling her, I haven't had enough of  heryet."

Marcel froze, stunned by the crudeness and vulgarity of the remark.

Meanwhile, Roan flicked his still half-smoked cigar into the ashtray and extinguished it.

When the crushed glow faded to a faint puff of smoke, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Well, I guess our business is done, then, and I wish you a good night."

"Wait a moment, Colonel. I beg you to reconsider, and I can pay what you ask."

Marcel grabbed Roan as he turned to leave, hastily pulling out the card he had prepared. For now, he had no choice but to make the man an offer he could live with.

"The Count of Fabron will vouch for me."

In truth, Marcel was not a wealthy man, despite his reputation as a scholar. He was born out of wedlock, had no family wealth to speak of, and was always greedlessly devoted to his studies, so he was ignorant of business and investment.

Therefore, he had sought out his family.

Judging from their previous meeting, Roan Barthez was not a man to be trifled with.

So Marcel decided to follow his lead. He would buy Delnia's slave documents.

He would then destroy them, granting her complete freedom.

With that single-minded intention, Marcel walked into a family that had made him feel lesser all his life, and he bowed to his half-brother, with whom he had not had any interaction since the death of the previous Count.

The Count of Fabron was not pleased with his half-brother's unannounced visit and his insistent bowing, but he eventually agreed to grant the request.

Although their ties were severed, he remembered the wrongdoings his second brother had committed against the Eperne family, and he could also sympathize with the plight of Delnia, who would have been his family.

Moreover, his heart was weakened by the fact that the youngest child, whom he had shunned all his life, was asking him for a favor the first time in his life. In fact, that's exactly what Marcel was aiming for.

Marcel was desperate because he knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

But whatever the reason, there was no reason for Roan to know.

"Unfortunately, the pleasure the slave gives me is too great to part with for a few pennies, though I'm sure you don't know that."

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