The conference chamber had become deathly quiet.
Only the soft crackling of lantern flames echoed through the massive room while moonlight spilled faint silver across the polished darkwood table. Outside the towering windows, the Southern capital glittered beneath the night like a sleeping beast unaware its future was quietly being rewritten above.
Inside—
The nobles no longer viewed the contracts as mere business documents.
Now—
They looked like weapons.
Carefully sharpened.
Beautifully disguised.
Several merchant nobles reread the proposal repeatedly while military Counts exchanged silent glances heavy with calculation. The Three Dukes remained seated calmly, yet even they had begun observing the situation far more seriously now.
Because this contract…
Was dangerous.
Not openly.
Not foolishly.
But intelligently.
Landon remained standing at the head of the table beneath the golden lanternlight, calm despite the pressure now filling the chamber.
Internally, however—
He could already sense it.
The shift.
The room no longer viewed House Veil merely as an ambitious rising household.
Now—
They viewed it as a potential threat.
Sairen's voice echoed softly through the soul-link.
"…The atmosphere changed."
Far away—
At Scarder Lake—
Sairen watched silently while silver mist drifted endlessly around her ancient figure.
Kel answered calmly.
"Good."
Because fear created caution.
And cautious people—
Made fewer reckless moves.
At the far side of the table, an older merchant Count finally spoke first.
"These terms…"
His voice carried controlled tension.
"…are aggressive."
Several nobles immediately nodded subtly.
Aggressive was putting it lightly.
Another noble frowned while adjusting the contract pages before him.
"Seventy percent royalty."
A slight scoff escaped him.
"And only five primary licenses."
The room stirred faintly again.
A military Count crossed his arms.
"If one faction dominates potion access…"
His eyes narrowed.
"…the South's economic balance shifts completely."
Kel quietly observed the room from behind Landon's chair.
Every reaction.
Every emotional fracture.
Every calculation.
Some nobles were angry.
Some impressed.
Some genuinely afraid.
And some—
Already wanted in desperately despite themselves.
Landon allowed the room to speak for several moments before calmly raising one hand slightly.
The chamber quieted again.
"If there are concerns regarding the proposal…"
His voice remained controlled.
"…then House Veil is willing to discuss them."
Several nobles blinked slightly.
Landon continued calmly.
"If a specific issue is raised…"
A faint pause.
"…and the majority agrees it unreasonable…"
His fingers lightly touched the contract.
"…then that section may be revised."
Now the room truly stilled.
Because that statement changed perception instantly.
This was no longer a rigid demand.
It became negotiation.
Discussion.
Cooperation.
Duchess Seraphine slowly smiled inwardly.
Smart.
Not because the offer itself mattered.
But because psychologically—
The nobles now felt included in shaping the structure.
Even if the proposal already cornered them beautifully.
Duke Altair leaned slightly back within his chair while silently observing Landon.
He's handling pressure better than expected.
Yet internally—
Altair still suspected something important.
No newly risen Viscount crafted something this refined alone.
No matter how talented.
And apparently—
He wasn't the only one thinking that.
A younger merchant noble finally spoke carefully.
"Lord Landon."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"…who exactly drafted this proposal?"
The room quieted instantly.
Several nobles looked up immediately.
Others slowly lowered their contracts.
Because yes—
That was the true question.
Who wrote this monster?
Landon paused briefly.
Then—
Without hesitation—
He gestured calmly behind him.
Toward Kel.
"This proposal…"
A faint pause followed.
"…was written by my attendant and alchemist."
Every gaze in the room shifted instantly.
Toward Kel.
The lanternlight illuminated half his figure while shadows concealed the rest, making his calm expression appear even more unreadable now beneath the room's sudden attention.
Landon continued naturally.
"Mister Heral informed me earlier that he possessed considerable experience regarding negotiations and structured agreements."
A faint smile touched Landon's lips.
"And since this was my first time presenting a proposal before high nobility…"
A brief pause.
"…I allowed him to draft the structure."
The silence afterward became terrifying.
Because Landon's words carried layered implications.
Carefully layered implications.
Not my proposal.
His proposal.
Meaning—
The brutal royalty terms.
The artificial scarcity.
The psychological pressure.
The strategic dependency structure.
All of it—
Came from Heral.
And suddenly—
The room exploded internally.
Count Veridan Ross
The old merchant Count stared directly at Kel now.
Monster.
Not insult.
Recognition.
Because only someone who deeply understood noble greed, market psychology, and political insecurity could craft a structure this manipulative.
And worse—
The proposal technically benefited everyone involved.
That was the terrifying part.
He cornered us while making us feel privileged.
The Count slowly removed his glasses.
And inwardly—
A chill crawled through him.
Duchess Seraphine Elthorn
Seraphine's pale eyes lingered on Kel quietly.
And instead of fear—
Amusement slowly bloomed inside her chest.
So it really was you.
She suspected already.
But confirmation changed things.
Now the dance earlier felt different in hindsight.
The calmness.
The confidence.
The way he observed crowds like pieces moving across a board.
Not an alchemist.
Not merely.
A strategist.
A terrifying one.
And somehow—
That only made him more attractive to her.
Which was honestly becoming a problem.
Ridiculous man.
Her heartbeat tightened faintly again.
Duke Altair Valemont
Altair slowly crossed his arms.
And internally—
Laughed once.
Short.
Sharp.
I knew it.
Now everything made sense.
House Veil's rapid positioning.
The careful market expansion.
The noble pressure structuring.
Even the ballroom manipulation earlier.
All of it traced back to one person.
His gaze sharpened slightly toward Kel.
Dangerous.
Not because of strength.
Not because of status.
Because this man understood leverage naturally.
And people like that—
Could reshape entire territories without drawing swords.
Lord Cassian Duret
The young noble's face twitched slightly beneath forced composure.
An attendant?
No.
Impossible.
His eyes fixed toward Kel with growing disbelief.
How can someone like this exist without noble birth?
Jealousy burned quietly beneath his chest now.
Not merely toward Landon anymore.
Toward Kel.
Because everyone in this room had begun unconsciously respecting him.
Even the Dukes.
And Cassian hated it.
Duke Kael Draven
Kael remained silent longest.
Gray eyes fixed toward Kel motionlessly.
Yet inwardly—
Something shifted slightly.
Interesting.
Not because of the proposal itself.
Politics bored him now.
But because this calm young man standing beneath shadow…
Continued exceeding expectations unnaturally.
Ancient mana scent.
Political intelligence.
Emotional observation.
Fearless posture before Dukes.
And now—
A proposal capable of altering Southern economic structure itself.
Kael slowly thought—
Who exactly are you…?
Meanwhile—
Across the room—
Several nobles reacted very differently.
Some were furious.
Seventy percent?
That shameless bastard.
He wants to bleed us alive.
Others felt jealous.
A mere attendant wrote something powerful enough to corner all Southern nobility…
Some admired him despite themselves.
Brilliant.
Terrifyingly brilliant.
I would hire this man immediately if possible.
And some—
Simply felt amused.
Because watching powerful nobles struggle against a contract written by a quiet "attendant" was undeniably entertaining.
The chamber filled with invisible tension now.
No one viewed Kel lightly anymore.
Not after learning the truth.
And through all of it—
Kel himself remained completely calm.
No pride.
No nervousness.
No arrogance.
Only stillness.
Sairen's voice echoed softly.
"…They're all staring at you now."
Kel's eyes moved slowly across the chamber.
Meeting noble gazes one by one without hesitation.
"Good."
Far away—
Sairen tilted her head slightly.
"…You wanted this?"
Kel's faint smile appeared briefly beneath lanternlight.
Small.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
"If they fear the proposal…"
A slight pause followed.
"…then they will remember the man who wrote it."*