Horace's boots thudded lightly against the packed dirt path, each step fueled by triumph. The morning breeze tugged at his cloak, but it did nothing to cool the smug satisfaction burning in his chest.
Good news for the Chief—yes.Great news for himself—absolutely.
He could already see it: once he stole Leon's method, he'd set up a workshop in another village, while the Chief seized control of Leon's current one. He wouldn't remain a mere butler—he'd rise, earn real wealth, mingle with the powerful.
A simple, elegant plan.
He snickered under his breath, savoring the image. Leon was clever, true—but even clever men fell for the illusion of friendship, especially when money and official approval dangled temptingly before them.
By the time he reached the Chief's house, Horace had smoothed his expression into one of practiced loyalty—shoulders straight, eyes bright, breath carrying just the right hint of urgency.
He knocked.
The door opened.
Horace stepped inside with a respectful bow, just enough strain in his voice to sell the performance. "Chief, I bring news—good news."
The Chief looked up from his seat at the center table, one brow arched. "You look like a man who's either escaped trouble or found profit. Which is it?"
"Profit, Chief. The boy is ready," Horace said, letting a confident smile spread across his face.
The Chief leaned back, lips curling in satisfaction. "Excellent. Send our best workers—and only the trustworthy ones."
"Of course," Horace answered immediately.
The Chief rolled a gold coin between his fingers, eyes narrowing with calculation. "We'll invest heavily. Make him dependent on us. It will secure his trust and tighten our grip. Two birds with one stone."
Horace bowed his head slightly, voice rich with flattery. "Brilliant as always, Chief… against you, that boy doesn't stand a chance."
The Chief chuckled, the coin rolling with a metallic whisper across his knuckles. "Flattery won't earn you extra share, Horace," he said, though the amusement in his tone made it clear he didn't mind hearing it. "But you're right. The boy won't even see the trap being laid."
Horace bowed his head, masking the sly glint in his eyes. "With your guidance, Chief, everything will fall into place."
"Mm." The Chief pushed himself up from his chair, pacing slowly around the table. "First, we give him funds—more than he expects. Make it look like generosity, goodwill. He'll feel honored. Grateful. And once gratitude sinks in…" He snapped his fingers softly. "Control follows."
Horace nodded eagerly. "I will prepare the story and spread it among the villagers—that the Chief is supporting young talent, that you are a patron of hardworking men."
The Chief smirked. "Good. Let them praise me. Praise softens suspicion."
He paused, turning back toward Horace with a thoughtful expression. "And you… stay close to him. Watch everything. How he works. Who helps. What tools he uses. I want every detail."
"Understood," Horace said with a deep bow. "I will gain his trust. He won't suspect a thing."
The Chief tossed the gold coin into the air and caught it with a smile that never reached his eyes. "Once we have his method and workshops, we'll cut him off neatly. And if he resists…" He shrugged casually. "There are always ways to make a problem disappear."
Horace felt a thrill run through him—dangerous, exciting. "I'll handle it, Chief."
"Then go," the Chief said, waving his hand dismissively. "Tell him we accept his terms. And remember—appear generous, appear loyal… but keep your eyes sharp."
Horace bowed once more before turning to leave, his smile fading the instant his back faced the Chief.
In its place settled a cold, calculating look—an expression carved by ambition and hardened by greed.
The Chief thought he was using Horace.
Horace knew better.
He planned to rise far higher than the Chief ever imagined… and the candles came at a perfect time.
Everything was falling into place.
Horace got busy as he prepared the workers barking orders here and there while sneaking in those who were loyal to him, not the chief.
Horace and his men arrived that afternoon, their enthusiasm barely contained.
The servant whose hand Leon had broken caught sight of him and shrank back behind the other workers, fear etched across his face. He knew Leon was unnaturally strong—and from the sharpness in his eyes, far more calculating than the old foxes, which made him all the more dangerous.
A cold sense of unease prickled at the servant's mind, but he kept it to himself, unwilling to draw attention.
"Welcome. I truly appreciate your help at this time," Leon said, keeping his tone natural.
"Don't mention it," Horace replied, chest puffed with self-importance. "It's our duty. These candles have a huge impact on our people, and you are one of our own. With this partnership, we'll make sure the secret stays safe—and with our help, neither money nor the market will be a problem. You focus on production, and we'll handle the rest."
He leaned in slightly, voice rich with conviction. "Especially for youngsters like you, who don't know business. Take the candles, for instance—they're too cheap. Affordable for anyone, yes, but that's bad for profit. Selling to the wealthy at a higher price brings faster returns."
His sidekicks nodded vigorously, reinforcing every word, as Horace basked in the illusion of wisdom and control.
Leon's gaze remained steady, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He listened intently, nodding in agreement at the surface level.
"Yes, of course," he said smoothly. "Profit is important, but accessibility matters too. We didn't have that before, but with your help, I'm confident things will improve." His tone was calm, laced with quiet expectation.
Horace puffed up with pride, mistaking Leon's politeness for naïve agreement. "Exactly! That's why we're here—to guide you. Together, we'll dominate the market!"
"Let us start right away, then," Leon said, signaling for them to follow him to the workshop.
Horace trailed quickly behind, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a frown, as if something crucial was missing.
"Where are the women?" he finally asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.
Leon raised his brows, a flicker of caution passing through him. Horace wasn't the sharpest, but he was observant enough to notice small details—enough to remind Leon not to be overconfident.
Leon's expression softened just enough to appear casual. "They've moved to my home. We needed to expand the space, and besides, they aren't needed here—this is a workplace."
Horace nodded approvingly, slapping Leon's shoulder. "Smart thinking. They'd just be a distraction. As men, we should focus on the business."
Leon offered a faint, measured smile, keeping his tone light. "Exactly. Efficiency comes first."
Horace's chest swelled with self-importance, clearly pleased that Leon seemed to agree with his crude logic. "Good, good. That's why I like working with you, boy. You've got the mind for profit, even if you're young."
Leon's eyes flicked briefly toward the workshop, noting the arrangement of workers, the racks of candles, and the subtle ways his plan was already unfolding. Horace might think he was in control here, but every step he took was being carefully monitored.
"Let's get to work," Leon said smoothly, turning fully toward the workshop. "I'll show you how we manage production efficiently—follow my lead, and we'll make this operation run like clockwork."
Horace straightened, a smug grin on his face, ready to assume his role of 'advisor,' unaware that Leon had already anticipated every move he might make.
"I am going to demonstrate the process from start to finish, then you can practice on your own until you get it right." Leon announced as he started his demonstration while explaining key things to keep in mind.
Horace watched in silence the only thing he could not hide was his smile which he tried to cover time after time.
"Master Horace, can I have a word with you?" he said courteously.
Horace turned, raising an eyebrow at the sudden summons. "Of course, boy," he replied, masking his curiosity with an air of politeness.
Leon gestured toward a quieter corner of the workshop, away from the other workers and the hum of activity. "Just a moment," he said, voice calm but carrying a weight that made Horace instinctively take the request seriously.
"I need funds to increase output and buy more raw materials," Leon said, his expression serious.
"You can tell me—I can get you everything you need," Horace replied quickly, his greed barely concealed.
"That's my little secret, Master Horace," Leon said casually, letting the words hang in the air.
Horace froze for a split second, realizing his slip, then laughed nervously, trying to downplay it. "I was just testing you, boy… How much do you need?" He decided to play it slow, masking the sting of his own mistake.
"With manpower and a ready market, I estimate we'll need around two hundred gold coins to meet the demand," Leon said, having run the calculations in his mind.
"That's… a lot," Horace replied, eyes widening—nearly his entire savings.
"For now, yes," Leon continued calmly, "but consider the profits. In just two weeks, we could double or even triple that amount—and that's purely from profit alone."
Horace, who had been hesitating, felt the familiar pull of greed wash over him again, clouding any lingering doubts.
"You're right," Horace said, forcing confidence into his voice. "As businessmen, risk is essential for growth." He added a few words of wisdom to mask the unease gnawing at him.
"I was thinking we should focus on production first, before selling," Leon continued, his tone bright with enthusiasm. "That way, we'll hit the market with large stocks, controlling prices. We can create artificial shortages, minimize competition, and dominate the market from the start."
"That's a brilliant idea," Horace said with a smile, masking the scheming thoughts racing through his mind. Leon was making it easy—once he got the formula, all he would need to do was seize the stock, and Leon would be out of business for good.
"Alright, I'll return tomorrow with the funds. Make sure you train them well," he said, waving goodbye.
"Don't worry," Leon replied calmly. "I will."
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NICOLE JOINS THE HAREM