Claude was furious, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Stop messing with me! Are you mocking me like this for fun? Do you have so much time to waste?"

But Ghislain remained calm.

"I told you I’d give it to you. Why are you getting so worked up? I’m just surprised the amount is so small."

Ghislain was certain. In his previous life, he had heard the number many times—back then, it had been 5,000 gold.

‘Well, it was a bit later in time, so the price might have changed,’ Ghislain thought.

"Small amount? You really...," Claude muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at Ghislain.

He couldn’t fathom what kind of game Ghislain was playing with him.

"Alright, fine. Since you’re so confident, give it to me right now."

Claude sneered, but Ghislain nodded without a hint of displeasure.

"That’s not hard. Is that all you need?"

Claude couldn’t believe it. The man didn’t seem to have a limit.

"Is 2,000 gold really too little? Fine, add another 500 gold. That should be enough to make up for my services," Claude mocked.

Belinda stepped forward, scowling at the increasingly brazen demands.

"No manners, no conscience. Cutting off your wrist wouldn’t have been enough; maybe your neck should go next," she spat, her hand twitching towards her dagger.

But Ghislain raised his hand to stop her.

"Let it be, Belinda. He’s going to be a valuable person to our estate."

"What? Are you really going to let this slide?" she snapped, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"Enough."

Ghislain’s heavy voice silenced Belinda, though she continued to glare daggers at Claude.

Ghislain let out a small, exasperated sigh and called for Gillian.

"Gillian, go to the largest trading company in Austen. Bring someone here. Tell them we’ll be issuing a letter of credit."

Gillian, cautious, asked, "Are you sure about this?"

His eyes held concern—was it really okay to give such a large sum to someone like Claude?

Gillian had rarely questioned Ghislain’s decisions, but this time, even he felt uneasy.

Ghislain only smiled calmly.

"Gillian, do you remember how you were when we first met? Was there any difference between you and this man?"

At that, both Belinda and Gillian fell silent.

In fact, Gillian had been in an even worse state. At least Claude wandered around the gambling dens; Gillian had holed himself up, not even going outside.

But now, Gillian was one of Ghislain’s most trusted and indispensable followers.

Understanding the meaning behind Ghislain’s words, Gillian bowed his head and left the room.

He had seen enough to know that his lord never acted without reason. There was clearly something in Claude that they couldn’t see yet.

Belinda, though still displeased, stepped back.

‘At least Gillian had the strength of a warrior. What does the young master see in this guy?’ she wondered, sighing.

Claude, arms crossed, glanced around the room, feeling increasingly dumbfounded.

This had gone beyond simple anger—now he was utterly perplexed.

‘This has gone so far that I have to humiliate this guy, if only to save face,’ he thought.

Soon enough, Gillian returned with a man in tow, and Claude’s eyes widened in shock.

‘Wait, that guy…’

The man was none other than the vice president of the largest trading company in Austen.

The amount being discussed must have been significant enough to warrant such a high-ranking official coming in person.

‘What kind of joke is this?’ Claude thought, stunned.

This wasn’t just some prank—these people were operating on a whole different level.

‘How do they plan to handle the fallout from this?’

If Ghislain had been a noble of the Kingdom of Ceylon, he could easily issue a letter of credit without issue. The trading company would trust him not to default, as a matter of honor.

But as a foreign noble, things were different.

Without collateral, there was no way the trading company would issue a letter of credit.

‘What are they planning to offer as security? Even a valuable gem might not be enough to cover 2,500 gold.’

Ghislain didn’t seem particularly wealthy. His clothes were neat but not extravagant, and he didn’t wear any expensive jewelry.

Surely the vice president wouldn’t just hand over such a large sum without significant collateral.

Claude was mentally preparing for Ghislain’s humiliation when something unexpected happened.

One of the mercenaries rummaged through his bag and placed a glowing stone on the table.

The stone emitted a soft blue light, and Claude found himself staring at it, mouth agape.

The vice president inspected the rune stone closely, a greedy smile spreading across his face as he bowed deeply.

"Oh my, this is a high-grade rune stone. Do you have any more? I’ll offer a price far above the market rate. Our company is the best in not just Austen but the entire region."

‘What the—?’

Claude’s expectations were completely shattered.

The vice president’s eyes gleamed with desire. For someone as experienced as him to be so openly eager meant that the quality of the rune stone was exceptional.

‘Is this for real?’

Ghislain, however, seemed uninterested, waving his hand dismissively.

"I’m not interested in selling any more. Just finish the transaction."

"Please reconsider! I’ll give you an excellent price. You won’t find anyone offering more. How much have you already been offered?"

Despite the vice president’s pleas, the mercenaries began drawing their weapons, and he finally relented, clicking his tongue as he pulled out his ledger.

His face was full of regret as he began drafting the letter of credit.

Watching this, Claude shouted suddenly.

"Wait!"

Everyone turned to look at him in confusion.

Claude swallowed nervously and asked, voice trembling, "Can you make it two letters of credit? One for 2,000 gold and the other for 500? Is that possible?"

Belinda scoffed while the vice president glanced at Ghislain for confirmation.

Seeing Ghislain nod in approval, the vice president agreed.

"Normally, the magical properties of these papers don’t allow for such requests. But considering the amount, I’ll do it without any extra fees."

The vice president smiled as he accommodated Claude’s request, making sure to remind them of his generosity.

"Please remember our company in the future. We would be honored to serve you again."

Even as the mercenaries glared at him to leave, the vice president continued bowing until he finally departed, leaving behind two letters of credit worth 2,500 gold.

"There, take it," Ghislain said, motioning toward the letters on the table.

Claude stared in disbelief at the letters and then back at Ghislain.

He had asked for the money, but he had never truly expected to receive it.

What was even more shocking was that Ghislain hadn’t asked why he needed such a large sum or how he planned to repay it.

Claude’s hands trembled.

‘This… This thing I’ve been chasing for years… It happened so easily?’

He couldn’t believe it.

Part of him even wondered if this was some elaborate scheme, with the vice president in on the joke.

2,000 gold was a fortune—enough to live a life of luxury for the rest of one’s days. Even the wealthiest nobles wouldn’t part with such a sum lightly.

Yet Ghislain, a mere "young lord," had given it to a gambling addict without a second thought.

Claude had spent years living in the gambling dens, doing whatever it took to scrape together enough money for this.

He had tried so hard but failed time and again.

And now, after all that struggle, this… this "kid" had just handed him the money as if it were nothing.

The shock slowly gave way to a deep sense of futility.

Claude stood there, stunned, before he suddenly shook his head as if snapping out of a trance.

Pride? Who needed that now?

The money he had longed for, that he was willing to give his life for, was now his.

"Wait here a moment," Claude muttered, snatching the letters of credit and stuffing them into his pocket.

He hurried toward the door, glancing back at Ghislain before rushing out of the tavern.

He looked like he was fleeing.

The mercenaries, startled, jumped to their feet.

"Catch him! Thief!" one shouted.

Belinda moved to follow, but Ghislain grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Let him go."

"What? He’s running away with the money!"

"It’s fine. I know where he’s going."

The confidence in Ghislain’s voice made Belinda and the mercenaries pause in confusion.

"You know? Where? The gambling den?" she asked.

"No, this time it’s somewhere else," Ghislain said as he leisurely rose from his seat.

"Still, he can’t handle this on his own. Let’s follow him."

Claude’s mind was likely racing with thoughts of his long-sought goal finally within reach. He wouldn’t be thinking clearly, and it was dangerous for someone without power to carry such a large sum.

Ghislain led the mercenaries out of the tavern.

By then, Claude had already disappeared into the city streets.

But Ghislain didn’t hesitate and continued walking with ease.

Soon, they stopped in front of a large building—the castle of the Baron of Austen.

"My lord, this is…" Belinda asked, looking puzzled.

"Yes, the castle of Baron Austen."

Just as Ghislain had predicted, Claude was arguing with the guards at the castle entrance.

"I brought the money, just like I promised! Let me see the baron!"

"Is the baron your buddy? Do you think you can just waltz in and demand to see him?" one of the guards retorted.

"The baron made me a promise! Now, let me in!"

"Alright, alright, calm down and wait here."

The baron wasn’t someone you could meet just by asking. Still, Claude seemed to have some prior arrangement, as he argued confidently.

One of the guards went inside to relay the message, but Claude anxiously glanced around while waiting.

When he spotted Ghislain, his body tensed up.

"What are you doing here?! I told you to wait!"

"I was curious."

"This is my business! Once it’s done, I’ll come back, so why follow me?" Claude snapped.

Belinda, irritated, snapped back in Ghislain’s place.

"Why should we trust a gambler like you? If you don’t explain right now, we’ll take that money back!"

"Who said I’m running off? Just wait a minute!"

As the two bickered, one of the guards turned to Ghislain.

"Who are you?"

Ghislain smiled, wrapping an arm around Claude’s shoulder.

"I’m his friend. We’re here to see the baron together."

"Friend?" Claude started to protest, but Ghislain leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"Have you lost your mind? You’re going to walk in there alone with all that money? Baron Austen is notorious for his greed."

Claude’s eyes widened as Ghislain’s words sank in.

In his excitement over finally achieving his goal, he had completely overlooked the danger.

His mind had grown dull from years of drowning in alcohol and gambling.

It was a miracle he had made it this far with such a large sum without being robbed.

He had been under watch this whole time.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Claude bit his lip.

‘I’ve been living like a wreck for too long. Still, if I go in with a noble, it might be safer.’

Steadying his expression, Claude finally said, "Yeah, he’s my friend. We’ll both go in."

The guard looked suspicious but sent word inside that Claude wasn’t alone.

Soon after, they were granted entry.

Of course, the mercenaries had to leave their weapons behind and wait in the reception area.

Only Claude and Ghislain were allowed to enter the audience chamber.

Baron Austen’s appearance fit his reputation for greed—his eyes were dull, and his cheeks were sagging with fat.

As soon as the two entered the hall, the baron spoke in a dry voice.

"You really managed to gather the money?"

The once defiant Claude now threw himself to the ground, pressing his head to the floor as he begged.

"I’ve brought the money! Please, return it now!"