The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 25

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 25
“Owen…… you?”
The employee, who had begun to furrow his brow and treat her like a difficult customer, suddenly widened his eyes at the mention of Owen’s name.
“Owen of House Namoi? Who, who exactly? This gentleman?”
Owen, unexpectedly thrown into the fray, looked bewildered, while the employee stammered with an air of disbelief.
In the midst of this, Pesha shrugged her shoulders with practiced ease and replied.
“Yes. We’ve come regarding business matters concerning the eastern territories.”
The employee, who had initially seemed flustered, quickly composed himself and moved to block their path.
“I’m terribly sorry, but the proprietor is not available at the moment.”
He had evidently concluded that everything she’d said was a lie.
“You expect me to believe that he’s suddenly unavailable?”
“I truly apologize.”
Had this been the Duke of House Fontloie, he would have appeared the moment he heard Owen’s name.
But neither of them had anticipated encountering an employee who refused to cooperate.
At this rate, simply waiting on the sidelines wouldn’t be enough.
The man himself would have to step forward.
As Pesha looked up at Owen with that intention, he flinched upon meeting her gaze.
Given that he wasn’t the sort to boast about his status or fame, it would be difficult for him to reveal his name and accomplishments of his own accord.
‘Still, he’s all this is for—the least he can do is cooperate.’
Seeing Pesha’s expression asking what he was waiting for, Owen fell silent for a moment before sighing like a man resigned to his fate.
It was just as he began to speak and explain the situation.
“I apologize for arriving without notice, but…….”
“Someone from House Namoi has come?”
Before Owen could even properly begin, someone appeared.
Looking toward the sound, they saw an elderly man leaning on a cane at the landing of the second-floor staircase.
The old man, who wore a black eye patch over one eye and whose hair had turned white with age, nonetheless cut an imposing figure with his ramrod-straight posture and piercing gaze.
Most striking of all was the green jewel adorning the head of his cane.
If it was authentic, it could only be the thousand-carat Abyss Emerald that had been passed down through the generations of House Fontloie.
“While few in the Empire are unfamiliar with the Count of House Namoi, is the matter so urgent as to warrant such an abrupt visit?”
The moment Pesha caught sight of the large green jewel crowning the cane, she exclaimed.
“Could you be the Duke of House Fontloie?”
Even as she spoke, doubt lingered—yet the old man turned to face her as if in response.
“And who might you be?”
The blunt manner in which he posed the question immediately settled Pesha’s uncertainty.
Though she had never laid eyes on him before, this man was undoubtedly the Duke of House Fontloie—loyal patron to Io in the original tale.
The moment conviction seized her, she pushed past the startled employee to answer.
“Yes. It is rather urgent, I’m afraid. I am Pesha, the lady of House Namoi. This is my husband, Owen. We’ve come because we have a proposal.”
At the mention that Owen himself had arrived, the Duke of House Fontloie’s eyes kindled with curiosity.
“Owen of House Namoi? You’re truly Owen of House Namoi?”
Though his expression was sharp enough to seem accusatory, one could stake what little remained of one’s fortune on the fact that the old man was not angry.
As Pesha jabbed Owen’s ribs insistently, urging him to answer, he resignedly nodded his head.
At that, the Duke of House Fontloie’s face lit with pleasant surprise, and he approached with his hand extended for a handshake.
“To think I’d meet you in person. I am Brandon, Duke of House Fontloie.”
As he offered his hand, Owen awkwardly grasped it in return, and they shook.
“Though we meet for the first time in the flesh, I am well acquainted with your deeds, Count of House Namoi. I’ve long wished to sit down with you and share a cup of tea, and here fate has arranged just that.”
After his handshake with Owen concluded, the Duke of House Fontloie turned his attention to Pesha with a courteous nod.
“And welcome to you as well, Countess. But what brings you to seek me out?”
“We wish to strike a deal with you.”
“A deal, you say.”
Countless others must have approached the Duke of House Fontloie with similar propositions over the years.
So from the outset, she would need something to capture his attention.
“The Uz Trading Company discarded an opportunity that we believe the Fontloie Trading Company would recognize for what it truly is.”
At the mention of the Uz Trading Company, the Duke of House Fontloie’s interest shifted squarely to Pesha.
“You sought to deal with Clark, the Marquess?”
“Yes.”
“That man cuts every deal in half before he even considers it. Success or failure—it’s all the same to him. That’s simply his way.”
The Duke of House Fontloie, who spoke with clear familiarity of Clark the Marquess, had once been the proprietor of the Fontloie Trading Company, which had ranked supreme throughout the Empire, and in the original tale had appeared as Io’s steadfast patron.
In that tale, Io receives help from the understanding and magnanimous Duke of House Fontloie in overcoming many obstacles; the reason she collaborated with the Fontloie Trading Company rather than the Uz Trading Company was simple.
Clark the Marquess, believing his daughter Io possessed no talent whatsoever, subjected her to brutal abuse.
In the original story, after Io journeyed to the Swamp and awakened her Purification Power, she was eager to contribute her newfound strength to the development of the Swamp territories.
It was Brandon who had been of great help to Io in those days.
Having maintained relations with his house since Io’s childhood and established a rapport with her, Brandon took pity on her circumstances and offered his assistance; his connections and financial resources gave her endeavors wings.
‘He showed her kindness out of the affection he’d harbored since they were young, but that doesn’t apply to me. So I need to leverage every bit of information I know and present him with something tempting enough to bite.’
Once her thoughts had settled, Pesha smiled sweetly.
“Just as you say. But perhaps we shouldn’t continue our conversation here—could we move somewhere more suitable?”
“Hmm, quite right. My dear fellow, do see our guest to the Reception Room.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The staff member who had just been blocking Pesha and Owen’s way stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then hurried to collect himself and bowed his head.
“Ah, of course, sir!”
The attendant quickly ushered the three of them into a spacious Reception Room.
Pesha examined the austere interior and inwardly nodded her approval.
People overwhelmed by Brandon’s great wealth and elevated rank often grew fearful the moment they laid eyes on him.
But that was only true of those who didn’t know him.
Despite his noble station, perhaps because he had spent his childhood in harsh circumstances, Brandon never squandered his fortune wastefully nor dismissed people lightly.
The three of them sat across from one another with warm tea between them, and began to talk.
“So then, what’s gone wrong between the House of Namoi and Clark? If you’ve taken the trouble to seek out the Uz Trading Company, you must have had business there.”
Pesha withdrew a potion bottle from her possession.
“I was actually searching for a distribution channel for this medicine I’ve created, but Clark made such an outrageous proposal that I had to refuse.”
Brandon let out a hearty laugh upon hearing this.
“That’s just the sort he is. He gets lucky once or twice in ten, so he keeps trying the same trick. Still, considering that the House of Namoi is the Empire’s savior, he ought to have shown restraint this time.”
He glanced toward Owen as he spoke, but Owen, seated beside Pesha, merely regarded Brandon with sharp, watchful eyes, his arms crossed.
Perhaps owing to the recent encounter with Clark, Brandon too seemed to sense something amiss.
“But I’m curious what this medicine of yours might be. My joints have been quite troublesome of late, and if it could remedy them, I confess I’d be interested.”
Pesha extended the bottle she’d been holding toward Brandon.
“It can’t prevent bodily aging, but it can prevent the corruption caused by monsters.”
“Mm? What sort of medicine did you say?”
The moment Brandon heard the word “monsters,” his eyes gleamed with a different light.
“……Monsters?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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