"It was a good deal."
Professor Grad had certainly earned his pay.
He'd served as the perfect bridge to help Fernan secure the contract exactly as he wanted.
"We were grateful for the opportunity to experience the prestige of the Golden Turtle Merchant Group."
Fernan and the vice-chancellor exchanged copies of the contract and shook hands.
With that, the sea dragon's carcass officially belonged to the Golden Turtle Merchant Group.
[1. Party A shall have priority in selling ships (including warships, ferries, and all other vessels) within the Academy for the next 20 years.2. Party A shall sell certain byproducts of the sea dragon to Party B at a reasonable price.3. Party B shall to Party A…]
The contract contained a great many clauses, but they boiled down to three key points:
The Academy would sell the sea dragon's body to the Golden Turtle Merchant Group.
In addition, the group would receive priority rights for selling ships within the Academy over the next 20 years.
And in return, the Golden Turtle Merchant Group would provide the sea dragon's byproducts to the Academy at a reasonable price.
'Good. Everything I wanted is in there.'
The first point was a given. The second was Fernan's request.
And the third was the Academy's condition in exchange for accepting that request.
'You get the best price for a spirit creature's carcass when you sell it whole.'
Buying a carcass at a high price, only to sell the byproducts cheaply—normally, that would've been a foolish move.
But this time, it was necessary to take a step back in pursuit of greater profits.
From the Academy's perspective, obtaining the byproducts at a discount in exchange for ship sales priority—something relatively unimportant to them—was a bargain.
'They're probably wondering why I'd even want something as trivial as priority in a small-time ship business.'
But Fernan knew just how large the Academy's warship industry would grow. That made it far more advantageous for him.
It was a rational deal where no one walked away with a loss.
"Good work."
"There's no need for thanks. It's not like this is my first contract."
Stepping out after finalizing a satisfying deal, Fernan stretched his stiff body with a long yawn.
"I've laid the groundwork. Now I just need Father's approval."
He'd deliberately specified "priority in sales" rather than "exclusive sales rights" because he hadn't received his father's approval yet.
Until the situation exploded, he hadn't had a rational justification to persuade him.
But Fernan's temperament wouldn't allow him to give up on a business opportunity this promising.
The result was "priority in sales."
'The best I can do without causing trouble if things go wrong.'
It was literally just priority—there was no need to take immediate action.
He could deal with the rest after the prophecy came to pass.
"How's the setup going?"
"The installation is complete."
Meaning the recording device had been installed on the cruise ship that would host the yacht club.
Now he could monitor the every move of those troublesome bastards.
"What about the staff list?"
"I've placed it in your office."
"Any issues?"
"I didn't notice anything unusual."
"Of course not."
If it were that easy to get caught, they wouldn't be devils—they'd be idiots.
These were the monsters who had nearly destroyed the continent a thousand years ago. Letting your guard down wasn't an option.
"Well, we do have our secret weapon."
Aint Armian—the hero acknowledged by the Prophecy.
'I'm counting on you, Aint Armian.'
On you, on the prophecy, and on the founding emperor who foresaw and arranged all of this.
Fernan's role was simple:
To ensure that Aint Armian didn't view him as an enemy, and to support him so that the story could reach a happy ending.
'Because that's how I protect my money.'
Protecting money with money.
"Well, shall we head to the ship?"
That was the Pellenberg way.
Squawk, squawk—
Seagulls circled overhead near the sea. The sound of waves and the scent of salt filled the air.
Fernan stood on the deck.
Eighty meters long, eighteen meters wide—an enormous vessel.
Fully outfitted for comfort and entertainment, this wasn't just a yacht—it was a full-fledged luxury cruise ship.
Loaned out to win the favor of the nobles, it had transformed a simple social club into a prestigious yacht club by appealing to their vanity and sense of authority.
'No matter how I look at it, it's a waste. I paid a hefty price for this thing, and now it's going to sink.'
The leisurely ship that had sailed out to sea suddenly encountered a monster wave.
Aint Armian, who escaped the ship just before it sank, was swept away to a remote island where he was forced into a life-or-death struggle against the Demonic Breed trying to kill him.
That was the future foretold by the current prophecy.
He could have stopped it—he had already observed it—but Fernan chose not to.
'To become Aint's complete ally, he must know that I'm aware of the demons' existence within a reasonable context.'
Only then would he not find it strange when Fernan acted with knowledge he shouldn't have, and suspicion wouldn't arise.
The ideal scenario was for Fernan to be swept away to the island together with Aint, and then help him during the attack.
There was nothing more effective in building trust than surviving a crisis together.
"Not bad. Let's go."
"Yes, but may I ask you one thing?"
"What is it?"
"Where in the world did you get that kind of information, Young Master?"
"I have a separate informant."
"…Wasn't I your informant?"
"Just because you're the hands and feet doesn't mean you know everything the head does."
Hyde nodded knowingly, as if he'd already suspected as much.
"There must be someone among the Academy students who knows about the Demonic Breed. And likely someone from the Dragon God Cult. Conveniently, you also happen to be close with the Saint, Jayce."
It was completely off the mark, but given the lack of information, it was a pretty plausible guess.
Fernan simply nodded vaguely instead of answering.
"What matters is catching the Demonic Breed."
"And what will you do once you've caught them?"
"I'll find out—how they've hidden their identities, how they infiltrated, and what their goal is."
Though honestly, their goal was so obvious that it might not even be necessary.
Still, the important thing was to follow the trail up the ladder and catch the ringleader guiding the Demonic Breed.
"Together with Aint Armian."
"…Why does Aint Armian come into the picture?"
"I gave him Saintbird's Heart—what, you think I wouldn't make use of him?"
"Well, fair point. Gotta make that investment pay off."
The Demonic Breed weren't literal demons, but they worshiped demons and borrowed demonic powers.
Naturally, they had to be dealt with by their polar opposite—the prophecy-certified hero.
"Hmm…?"
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the ship.
When Fernan and Hyde stepped out, an employee from the merchant group came rushing toward them, panting heavily.
"Young Master, I came running as soon as I heard you were here."
"What is it?"
"A letter has arrived from the Duke."
"Oh? Finally."
Fernan smiled as he accepted the letter.
[I won't withhold my support, as you requested.
You are authorized to use the family's facilities and artisans. I'll also provide the funds to purchase the sea dragon's carcass.
However, you must explain in detail how you obtained the mithril and adamant.
And as promised, deliver the agreed amount down to the last gram according to the contract.]
[As for the warship business within the Academy, I personally judge it to lack commercial potential.
However, if you insist that it must be done and that it can succeed, then submit a detailed report and viability analysis through official channels.
This is a business being conducted by the merchant group—not by my son. You are not just my son, but the head of the Golden Turtle Merchant Group's Academy Branch.]
"…It's done!"
The Duke was someone who believed that not even between parent and child should guarantees be made; all financial dealings had to be precise.
This was no favor from father to son—it was a deal between two merchants.
So while Fernan had to give up some of the mithril and adamant as compensation, the result was more than acceptable.
'The warship business… I guess there's no helping it for now.'
It wasn't like he could say he'd seen the future, so this was inevitable.
'But I'll soon have the justification I need.'
Once the yacht club incident happened, the Academy would panic and hastily establish a maritime combat curriculum.
It wasn't far off now.
"Looks like the Duke has given his approval?"
"He has. I'll have to return to the main estate during the break."
Forget demons—over summer break, he'd have to hole up in the workshop and get serious.
But that was for later. For now…
"I need to meet with Ruina Berchef."
It was time for the next step.
Perhaps it was because, as a merchant, even the smallest miscalculation could mean the difference between great profit and devastating loss.
Fernan Pellenberg was someone who prepared for everything with meticulous care.
His philosophy was that no amount of preparation was ever truly enough—because the unexpected could always happen.
Battles against monsters on the open sea. Prophecies concerning the Demonic Breed.
The unfamiliar battlefield of the ocean, and a future gradually shifting due to Fernan's influence.
No one could predict how the synergy between those two elements would alter the original course of destiny.
Hopefully for the better—but he had to consider the possibility of it going south as well.
That was why—
"Ruina Berchef, take this."
"What is it?"
"An invitation to the yacht club."
—he handed her the invitation.
She was one of Fernan's most reliable cards at the moment.
A card capable of covering for unexpected anomalies.
Of course, Fernan had other students under his family's support. But when it came to usable cards, the more, the better.
"The yacht club—it's what I think it is, right?"
"It is. Only the top 5% of the Academy are allowed in."
It wasn't officially stated as "the top 5%."
But since those lacking talent or family background were never accepted, it had come to be known that way.
Ruina Berchef had more than enough qualifications to be a member.
Second in her class at the Academy, and a descendant of the Berchef family, once a princely house.
Even if the house had half-collapsed, its thousand-year foundation hadn't simply disappeared.
And yet, she had stayed away from the yacht club all this time entirely because of Fernan.
'I was trying to apply subtle pressure.'
He'd tried to gradually push Luina into a desperate situation by using her debt as leverage.
Blocking her from entering the yacht club had been one part of that plan.
"Why the sudden change with the yacht club? Weren't you the one keeping me out of it?"
"…So you knew?"
"Bella is a member of the yacht club."
Ah, that's right.
Though she had shown some carelessness in her involvement with magic, Bella Hoenne had both the talent and the lineage.
"…If you cling too much to the past, you'll never move forward."
"You're not the one who gets to say that."
"Well, I'm offering you the invitation now, so doesn't that make it okay? We're even partners now, after all."
Fernan cleared his throat awkwardly and offered the invitation again. Luina looked back and forth between it and Fernan.
"There's certainly a clear difference between our relationship before and now. So I suppose it wouldn't be that strange for you to give me this."
"Exactly."
"But I can't believe you'd hand it over for no reason. What's the real motive?"
"Can't a person just treat someone else kindly without needing a reason?"
"Isn't it more suspicious if there's no reason?"
She had a point he couldn't refute.
"…Don't tell me you actually—"
"Absolutely not. I swear on money—that is not the reason."
Fernan shook his head firmly under Luina's half-lidded, skeptical gaze.
"So if it's not that, then there is another reason."
"I told you. It's an investment in talent."
"Do you really think I'd believe that?"
Under her piercing gaze, Fernan finally confessed.
"I've found traces of the Demonic Breed. Looks like they're planning something at the yacht club."
"...!"
"I plan to set a trap and catch them—but it'd be much safer with a trustworthy ally by my side…."
"You've got your priorities all wrong."
Luina interrupted him flatly.
"That's what you should have led with."
"So… you'll go?"
"Of course."
She accepted the invitation.
"I'll never forgive the ones who infected Bella. Even if that weren't the case, there's no way I'd let the Demonic Breed scheme unopposed."
"Good mindset."
She truly had the spirit worthy of being Aint's companion—the future hero of mankind.
Fernan was reaffirmed in his belief that reaching out to Luina the moment he confirmed the prophecy had been the right call.
"Oh, by the way—has Bella woken up yet?"
"Bella? Not yet…"
Still unconscious for a full day? Just how badly had that bastard Jayce burned her internally?
"What do you think—should we get Bella involved too? Once she wakes up, she'll probably be furious, since she was the direct victim."
The more reliable allies, the better.
"…You're right. It's not someone else's problem for Bella anymore, either."
Luina hesitated briefly, then nodded.
She wasn't thrilled about dragging a friend into danger, but now that Bella was already involved, there wasn't much of a choice.
"If possible, try to convince her yourself. But if she's scared of the Demonic Breed and refuses, then try this—"
Fernan began outlining a plan of persuasion.