Ch.256Noble Guest (3)

A commoner asking a noble for guidance might seem strange. It could appear rude or make one wonder if the person has lost their mind.

But that’s only on the surface. Though our exchange was brief, it contained many layers of meaning.

I revealed that I knew who Musk was while extending a handshake. If I hadn’t known, I would have simply responded with “So what?”

It’s easier to understand if you view it as a meeting between business partners. Musk mistakenly believed my father was Xenon, but he naturally assumed that I, as his son, would also be aware.

It was a riskier gamble than it appeared. However, the potential return was substantial enough that Musk approached me first.

Above all, Musk had built a solid relationship of trust by honoring the confidentiality woven throughout the Biography of Xenon. It’s reached the point where I’d be hard-pressed to find someone of his caliber on my side.

Perhaps Musk was aware of this and took courage from it. I’m not sure how he views the Biography of Xenon, but it doesn’t seem to be at the level of “worship.”

…No, it must be a different kind of worship. After all, the Biography of Xenon has given him more money than he could earn in a lifetime.

In any case, social status is completely irrelevant in the trust relationship built between Musk and me. I would struggle to find someone of Musk’s caliber, and Musk would find it impossible to discover another masterpiece like the Biography of Xenon.

We each benefit from the other, without crossing any lines—a perfect business relationship.

“I’ll guide you, but truthfully, I don’t know our territory well. I’m an academy student and haven’t been back home for long.”

“Ho ho ho. That’s fine. Actually, the guidance was just an excuse—I simply wanted to chat.”

The request for guidance was merely a pretext for conversation. This is my first meeting with Musk, and while he may have met my father, this is his first time meeting me.

Right now, our priority is getting to know each other through casual conversation as we walk around the territory.

“By the way, are you alright? I heard you were ambushed by devil worshippers…”

“Haha. I’m fine now. I always carry emergency potions just in case.”

Judging by his hearty laughter, he seems genuinely fine. Come to think of it, Musk was both a beneficiary and a victim.

But the plump merchant showed his experience when, after hearing my question, he tilted his head and carefully asked:

“How did you know about that? I’m certain I sent a letter to…”

He trailed off, concerned about eavesdroppers, but his meaning was clear. He wondered how I, who had been at the academy, knew about something he had reported to our estate.

As I mentioned earlier, Musk mistakenly believes my father is the author of the Biography of Xenon. This is understandable since my father brought the first draft to the publisher, and messengers were used afterward.

It wouldn’t be a problem if he continued with this misunderstanding, but Musk is one of the few people I trust. Besides, even if he mistook me for my father, it’s only one degree of separation, so revealing the truth wouldn’t be an issue.

I responded with just a slight smile. Seeing my smile with its many implications, Musk’s eyes widened briefly before he burst into hearty laughter.

“Ho ho ho. So that’s how it is. Unexpected, I must say.”

“What’s unexpected? That I’m too young?”

“That too, but I didn’t expect you to reveal it so openly. Should I take this as a sign that you trust me?”

I simply smiled at his question, which mixed jest and sincerity. Musk had made a minor mistake and, according to Rina, was even caught evading taxes.

That’s precisely why he’s more trustworthy. People are most reliable when they’re moderately honest and moderately corrupt.

Those who are too honest tend to be stubborn and rigid, making it difficult to build trust, while those who are too corrupt betray others as easily as they eat.

Moreover, Musk remained silent even when pressured by Alfheim nobles acting on the Senate’s orders.

This decision likely stemmed from the understanding that one shouldn’t cut open the goose that lays golden eggs.

Conversely, as long as I continue to lay golden eggs, Musk will never betray me.

“…Ho ho.”

When I responded with only a smile, Musk seemed embarrassed and wiped beneath his nose. Judging by his reaction, he truly meant it as a joke.

Before the atmosphere could turn awkward, I fired another question. My most urgent concern was his publishing company.

Even if the manuscript for the Biography of Xenon is complete, it’s meaningless if the publishing house isn’t operational.

“By the way, when will the company relocate?”

“I’m afraid it will take some time. The building itself is nearly complete thanks to the Church’s help, but the employees are still preparing.”

“When will company operations return to normal?”

“It will take about two weeks, to be generous. We’re not just moving the company but also the employees’ residences. Even this is only possible because the Church is helping—otherwise, it would take much longer.”

The original location of the publishing house was, as everyone expected, in the capital. The distance between the capital and our territory is relatively short.

However, this world has neither trains nor cars. This means all those heavy belongings must be moved solely by carts and carriages.

As a result, very few people relocate. Most settle in one area and rarely venture out unless they’re adventurers.

Given these circumstances, Musk’s decision is quite radical. It’s fortunate that the moving distance is short, but the expenses must be enormous—yet he’s bearing them for his employees.

“You must have spent quite a lot. Are you alright?”

“Compared to what we’ve earned so far, it’s not even a drop in the bucket.”

“… …”

His answer made my concerned question seem foolish. Of course, compared to what the Biography of Xenon has earned, it would be negligible.

Musk laughed at my embarrassed expression. Suddenly, since we were discussing money, I became curious about how much the Biography of Xenon had earned.

Not Musk, but me. Fearing potential tracking, I had left everything with the publisher until now.

After Leort and Rina partially discovered my identity, and following the hiatus incident, I began moving funds with their help, but I still don’t know the details.

After all, I started the Biography of Xenon as a hobby, not to make money. One thing is certain: I could live comfortably for the rest of my life without working.

Even if not the exact amount, I wanted to hear at least a figurative estimate. How many copies could have sold worldwide?

“May I ask you something, if it’s not too impertinent?”

“Ask anything you like.”

“How much have you earned?”

Was that too direct a question for a merchant? Musk flinched at my inquiry and smiled awkwardly.

The profits from something as massive as the Biography of Xenon must be enormous. But his hesitation suggests something is complicating the matter.

What could it be? I waited silently for Musk’s answer.

Finally, Musk cleared his throat and spoke quietly.

“That’s… difficult to answer.”

“What’s difficult about it?”

“When the pie is too large to fit in your mouth, how can you eat it in one bite?”

“Ah.”

I nodded in understanding after hearing his answer. In other words, the scale is so massive that it’s difficult even to calculate.

Is this man really a commoner? His metaphors are as elegant and apt as any nobleman’s.

Perhaps his eloquence developed naturally from dealing with people daily and having to deflect pressure from nobles. That seems likely.

In any case, I learned that the profits from the Biography of Xenon are unimaginably vast. That’s to be expected for a book that spread worldwide, not just throughout the Empire.

“Ah. Just to be clear, I’m transferring all the profits intact, so please don’t worry.”

Musk tried to reassure me, perhaps thinking his earlier metaphor might have raised suspicions. I looked at him expressionlessly.

I had heard about this from Rina as well. While he might evade taxes, he never skimmed from the profits coming to our family.

He’s meticulous about money bound by “contracts,” but curiously corrupt when it comes to annoying things like taxes. Even that tax evasion seems more like a legal loophole, given that he only paid a fine.

He’s an appealing person in many ways. He embodies the virtues of a merchant perfectly and isn’t foolish enough to cut open the goose that lays golden eggs.

With so much money earned, he could easily skim a little without anyone noticing. He could take some crumbs from the pie he mentioned without consequence.

“That’s curious. You could take a few crumbs and no one would notice.”

“Haha.”

When I expressed my puzzlement with this implication, Musk laughed again.

Then, clasping his hands behind his back in a rather solemn posture, he cleared his throat. His pretentious demeanor almost made me laugh.

“I’m sorry, but I enjoy making money, not cheating my contractors. That’s not a merchant’s way. Some things must be respected.”

“Yet taxes…”

“Ah, but that was merely a legal loophole. As you can see, I’m still here, unscathed.”

Even this much revealed what kind of person he was, but his next words provided one more insight:

“Besides, if you’re going to take something, you should do it through legitimate means.”

“And what would those legitimate means be?”

“Contracts, of course.”

It’s fortunate this man isn’t a noble. If he were, countless people would have been fleeced by him.

Still, he doesn’t play games with contracts involving reliable sources of income. That would risk harming himself as well.

He would certainly have succeeded even without the Biography of Xenon. Above all, his ability to hold onto the Biography of Xenon until the end demonstrates his skill.

Typically, interpersonal matters are the most troublesome, and finding someone like Musk who thoroughly protected me from those troubles is one of my great fortunes.

“Among so many people, I’m lucky to have met you, Mr. Musk.”

“The fortune is mine.”

“Is there anything you desire?”

I showed goodwill toward Musk. After all, both his attack by devil worshippers and his expensive relocation to our territory were ultimately because of the Biography of Xenon.

As the author, I felt somewhat apologetic and was willing to grant small favors. It seemed only right for someone who had built such a relationship of trust.

But Musk’s thoughts appeared to differ. He shook his head and responded politely:

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. What I have now is more than enough.”

“Hmm… I understand. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Some might grow suspicious hearing our conversation. But those doubts would be resolved if they knew our true identities.

Musk is the publisher who contracted the Biography of Xenon, and I am the second son of the family whose territory his publishing house will soon enter.

This was a meeting between a family’s second son and a publishing house president, not between the author of the Biography of Xenon and his publisher—so even if suspicions arose, there would be little reason to investigate deeply.

“Today has been truly enlightening. Thank you for granting my request.”

“That’s what I should be saying. Again, I’m truly fortunate to have met you, Mr. Musk.”

“Haha. You’re gilding my face with compliments. I’m overwhelmed.”

After various conversations, the time came for us to part ways.

I needed to inspect the territory, and Musk needed to check on his company and employees.

Still, we both gained what we needed, so there was no loss. If anything, I benefited by learning more about Musk as a person.

“By the way, Mr. Issac, do you have someone you’re promised to?”

“Yes, I do.”

Not just one, but several—though I kept that thought to myself.

Musk sighed with genuine disappointment.

“That’s truly unfortunate. I was thinking of introducing my daughter to you.”

“I appreciate the thought. But that would put me in a difficult position…”

I might get beaten to death by my fiancée if I went any further. I swallowed those words as well.

Seeing my firm stance, Musk seemed to give up immediately and nodded.

By the way, they say daughters often resemble their fathers—surely she doesn’t look exactly like him? As I was staring at him, thinking this:

“Ho ho ho. Unlike me, my daughter is delicate and beautiful.”

How did he know? Is my expression that transparent?

As I fumbled with my face in embarrassment, Musk chuckled softly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny piece of paper and showed it to me.

I could tell it was a photograph. You might wonder about photographs in this era, but they’re magical items invented in Alfheim.

Elves, who value “tradition” and “records,” invented cameras long ago. The only issue is their exorbitant price.

Anyway, moving past that, I examined the people standing side by side in the photo.

Musk, as the head of the family, sat in the center, with two women and two men standing beside him. The men appeared to be his sons, and the women his wife and daughter…

‘Wait, is this possible?’

I looked back and forth between the person in the photo and the current Musk. The woman I presumed to be his daughter was indeed beautiful even by my standards, but what shocked me more was Musk himself.

The Musk in the photo (presumably) had a sharp jaw, piercing eyes, and notably thick caterpillar-like eyebrows. Compare that to now.

Some characteristics remained, but layers of fat had completely buried them. Can a person change so much just from gaining weight?

As if reading my thoughts, Musk let out his characteristic hearty laugh and spoke:

“I’ve gained some weight recently, but I was once known for my good looks. That’s when I met my wife.”

“Ah… yes. I’m sorry to ask, but have you never thought about returning to how you were then?”

“Even back then, my popularity caused my wife headaches—imagine how it would be now? I need to keep this fat as a barrier.”

“… …”

It sounds like self-flattery, but looking at the person in the photo, it doesn’t seem to be. Moreover, now that he’s become suddenly wealthy from the Biography of Xenon, he must attract many people.

Inwardly bewildered, I returned the photo to Musk. He carefully tucked it back into his pocket and offered me some advice:

“So be careful, Mr. Issac. The moment you turn your eyes to a woman other than your fiancée, the return isn’t doubled—it’s squared.”

“… …”

“And your fiancée’s tears are calculated as a debt that can never be repaid. Please keep this in mind.”

It was a merchant-like piece of advice with a sharp edge.

‘At least I haven’t accumulated any debt yet.’

Thanks to him, I felt I should treat Marie even better.