Regressor of the Fallen Family chapter 33

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Chapter 33: House of Count Davis

As a member of the traditional royalist faction, the House of Count Davis was a distinguished family from the Grandia Kingdom. Although they did not own any fief, they had served as the finance minister for two generations.

The current head of the family, Count Fallon Davis, at the young age of twenty-five, was serving as a clerk in the Ministry of Finance. It was expected that within the next decade, they would boast having three consecutive generations in the role of finance minister.

Hence, there were always plenty of people trying to curry favor with the Count’s household, and given the number of guests, parties were often held.

Thanks to this, the Davis estate was always bustling with overflowing guests.

“Ho, I’ve never seen a flame emblem before. House of Baron McLaine, very well. Please, come in.”

The gatekeeper of Count Davis’s estate, having verified the flame emblem on the silver identification badge, allowed Logan in. Although not a knight but a mere soldier, the gatekeeper, nearly sneering with a semi-polite tone, gestured for Logan to proceed. As the saying goes, the servant reflects the master, and so even the soldier felt at liberty to be dismissive towards the lower nobility.

Seeing this as nothing out of the ordinary, Logan nonchalantly wrote his name in the guestbook and entered the grandiose mansion.

The gardens were expansive, and the mansion, more extensive than the inner stronghold of the McLaine estate, seemed convoluted enough that a newcomer might easily get lost.

But Logan didn’t need to ask for directions, as the grand music flowing from the party hall naturally led him.

Before entering the party venue, Logan was required to present his identification badge once again because the two knights guarding the entrance seemed skeptical upon observing his awkward evening wear and anxious expression.

“Ah, my apologies. Please, enjoy the exquisite culture of the capital, dear sir.”

Though the officials confirmed his identity, their demeanor didn’t seem too friendly.

“The young lord of the House of Baron McLaine has arrived!”

With an overly loud announcement of his arrival, all eyes turned to Logan.

“Who’s that?”

“McLaine?”

“Is there such a family?”

“He’s clearly a country bumpkin.”

“Oh my, look at those tasteless party clothes.”

However, Logan wasn’t really there for their attention.

A party was a social playground for making connections with more influential individuals or to seek appealing companions of the opposite sex.

While Logan’s red hair, red eyes, and decent appearance drew some looks, they weren’t enough to overcome the ‘excessively flamboyant and seemingly expensive’ evening wear that he donned.

And so, Logan wore a very satisfied smile.

‘A good choice, Philip.’

Though it was disheartening to realize that nobody knew of his family, Logan had no interest in forging meaningless connections outside of his objective.

The butterflies gathered here, chasing after the nectar would all disappear when the storm came.

He, who would survive the impending chaos and make a name for himself, wouldn’t be idling away in such a functionless party in the middle of a weekday.

“Oh dear, how rustic. Where could he have come from, some remote countryside?”

“Don’t bother with him. I’d hate to see your beautiful eyes sullied by filth.”

Logan couldn’t care less about the contemptuous comments made by a nearby couple as he approached his real target.

“Good evening. I’m Simpson Brown.”

“Logan McLaine.”

“I’ve heard much about the renown of the House of McLaine. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“…It’s ‘Baron’, actually.”

“Eh? Wasn’t it ‘Count’? I’m certain that the noble lineage records I’ve memorized stated… Oh! Uh, umm. My apologies. I seem to have mistaken you for someone else.”

“…Hmm?”

The man, who awkwardly chuckled and stepped back as if he’d made an honest mistake, could be seen exchanging triumphant high fives with what seemed like his companions.

‘You saw? I did it, right?’ The mouthing between the group made it clear that this belittlement was nothing more than their idea of fun.

‘…There’s all kinds of people in the world.’

Ignoring the butterflies unaware of the impending storm, Logan finally spotted his goal.

The host of the party, Count Fallon Davis, was there.

With a somewhat protruding belly, his round face wore a pleasant smile as several ladies gathered around him, sharing laughter.

It was indeed strange to see the man in charge of the finance ministry at this time host a party, especially in such a corrupt nation.

‘He’s a pitiful fellow, really.’

Considering his family and position, he could no doubt make a fine husband.

But despite having remarried and taken concubines after his first wife died at the county age of twenty, he had no heirs.

‘Because he’s impotent.’

While analyzing the information provided by Nox, Logan had stumbled upon this man’s name in three different ledgers and a memory from his past life suddenly surfaced.

A name that had become somewhat famous.

‘The count who committed suicide because of his wife.’

– The fool can’t even get it up!

Whether it was an incident or his wife dropping the bombshell at a party, it had driven him to suicide.

Logan found it hard to understand, but it seemed that public perception and honor mattered enough to dictate life or death for the poor man.

Of course, Logan had little interest in what would become of Count Davis.

He simply needed to extend a helping hand to the poor man whose family pressure forced him to yet again find another wife through such parties.

Logan approached Count Davis and spoke quietly.

“Excuse me, Count. A guest wishes to extend his greetings to the host of the party.”

“Oh, what do we have here? A new guest, welcome… Hm, where might you hail from?”

Count Fallon Davis, briefly taken aback by Logan’s attire, managed not to burst into laughter and asked.

In such open gatherings, uninvited guests were still guests.

Any noble could attend these parties, so it was the host’s duty to maintain decorum.

“I am Logan McLaine, the firstborn of the McLaine House in the southwest. I’ve come to the capital for business and wished to greet you after hearing of your illustrious reputation.”

This would be true regardless if one was a mere merchant from an obscure corner of the countryside.

He was a model noble, knew to show respect.

“Oh, business? There’s nothing you won’t find in Grandia. Ha, but perhaps you bring something new from the frontier.”

He insulted, but with a twist. Such was the true language of nobility.

Fallon secretly admired his own clever verbal play.

The stress from the party seemed to ebb away just a little.

But it seemed as though this country noble didn’t quite grasp the social context.

“Indeed. I came confident I had something you lack.”

“Ah… Is that so? What might you be selling?”

Fallon responded, but it was clear that he had little interest.

“Medicine. A rare one, the likes of which are not found elsewhere.”

“Ah, I see. Then, I’ll be on my way…”

“It’s particularly beneficial for men, especially for… nighttime activities.”

Logan whispered the last part swiftly, just loud enough for the count alone to hear.

The sudden intrusion should have caused a stir, but the tremble in the count’s eye was undoubtedly due to something else.

“…What do you mean?”

“A virility tonic. A remedy so potent, it can even revive the impotent, addressing erectile dysfunction.”

his hush tone carried an implication that thundered in the count’s ears.

However, Fallon’s reaction was not what Logan expected.

“A young nobleman peddling aphrodisiacs? What are you implying?”

Fallon raised his voice so loud it drew attention, almost as if he intended to shame Logan.

The surrounding ladies blushed and turned away at such a remark.

From the look on his face, it was clear that the count was skeptical.

‘Right. He doesn’t believe me, does he?’

Given his predicament, it’s likely he had done his research.

“Because I’m confident of its effectiveness.”

Logan was unruffled, shrugged with ease, and smiled.

“Selling something that hardly befits nobility. However… well, commerce is free in our lands. Good luck with your endeavor.”

After sizing Logan up, Fallon turned away with a stiff face.

Watching him go, Logan pulled out his final card.

“Nevertheless, as a visitor, I must show good manners. I’ve brought a gift to honor the esteemed individuals of the capital.”

>A gift?

>Either the mention of a hundred gold pieces or the sheer word ‘gift’ had Fallon turning back promptly.

>This is ‘Impo-Rick’, scheduled to sell at a hundred gold per piece. It’s my gift to you, Count Davis.”

“I can swear on my noble honor that it is a top-quality remedy with absolutely no side effects.”

With Logan’s closing words, the count’s pupils rippled like waves.

* * *

“Will the count really come to buy the medicine?”

“Probably not. The odds are higher he won’t.”

“What? Then why…”

“But I won’t just be waiting there.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

“He who digs a well when thirsty. If we toss enough bait, someone will eventually bite. Then…”

“It’s game over.”

“That’s not it. That’s when the real game begins.”

Though worded differently, their meaning was aligned.

Logan and Philip exchanged knowing smiles.

* * *

In Grandia Kingdom, three-quarters of the nobility were concentrated in the capital, Grandia.

Most of the honorary nobles, who made up over half of all nobility but didn’t own land, resided in the capital. Even the landed nobility often left their estates to stewards or heirs, preferring to live in Grandia themselves.

Most sought connections, and such networking often happened at the countless parties that filled the city with noise and bustle.

A young noble from the countryside making the rounds at these parties was not a rare sight.

Anyone of noble status could enter these gatherings.

But not many, like Logan, arrived in such ostentatiously radiant attire.

“…Do you have an invitation? If not, please show your identification badge.”

A soldier politely bowed to Logan, less out of courtesy and more to contain an impending laugh.

After seven similar encounters, Logan shrugged and showed his badge, now used to the routine.

‘There should’ve been a bite by now…’

He had been laying out bait at one or two parties every day.

His targets were peculiar in that they hosted parties more frequently than ordinary nobility.

‘Is it because of an inferiority complex?’

A wry smile crossed his face, but the reason didn’t matter much.

Once a breakthrough was made, everything would start to unravel.

For now, spreading as much bait as possible was pivotal.

And so, Logan continued to humbly nod to a human-shaped pig that dissuaded belief with its sheer bulk.

‘That one seems like it would need to lose some weight before it needs the potion… But, let’s cast the bait anyway.’

His efforts paid off before even five days had passed.

* * *

“You’re not going to a party tonight?”

Logan sat on a 20,000 gold-piece chair in a tight space that had been lavishly decorated to resemble an exclusive meeting room.

Absentmindedly staring at the ceiling, he responded to Philip’s question after a moment.

“Considering whether the tacky clothes have hurt the image too much. Should we keep up the act?”

“Don’t rush things. Your strategy has been perfectly logical. Just as we start to get a response…”

“Someone is here!”

And with perfect timing, the awaited voice sounded.

“They’ve come.”

“Finally.”

A smile spread across both their faces.

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One response to “Regressor of the Fallen Family chapter 33”

  1. Thanks for the chapter!

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