( THE END )
Those were the final words displayed on the television screen in front of Sam.
He sat alone in Clara's suite, surrounded by darkness that seemed to press in from every corner of the room. He let out a heavy sigh, covering his mouth as he let out a lazy yawn, watching the credits of the movie slowly roll by.
"She's still not back yet," he muttered.
It had been more than two weeks since Sam arrived in this world. Those two weeks could easily be classified as the most eventful and thrilling period of his entire life. They had flown by at an incredible speed despite the sheer volume of events that had transpired.
Every restriction previously placed on Clara by the Duke had been lifted; she was now more liberated than ever. Although the restrictions had barely existed in practice and she could move freely, the Duke's recent letter officially declared her completely independent and deemed her mature enough to take responsibility for her actions.
The strange part, however, was the letter Sam received. It contained his formal dismissal from the Ducal staff, but attached to the bottom was a new appointment letter: he was now officially and exclusively assigned as Clara's personal servant. From tomorrow, he would be forced to enter the Academy with her as her sole companion, replacing the old man, Monart.
Today, Clara had been out all day and had yet to return, claiming she was on an outing with her friends. Now that she was officially his final master, she was the one responsible for his salary. However, it wouldn't come from her personal funds; rather, his weekly pay was added to the allowance sent by her father.
But what irritated Sam the most at this moment was his hunger. Clara hadn't returned, and he was starving. He was supposed to go shopping for supplies, but he hadn't received a single coin. He was, quite literally, broke. He barely had enough for transportation most of the time and had been forced to borrow money from Sarah.
Although Sarah had told him she would cover all his expenses as long as he didn't do anything stupid, he still didn't fully understand her intentions. Consequently, he tried not to overstep with his requests. But now, alone and hungry, he decided to send her a message.
[I'm hungry... As you know, I haven't received my salary yet. Could I have some money?]
It felt stupid as he typed it, but he didn't know how to phrase the request without sounding like a beggar asking for a handout.
[Sarah Smorguth: How about we meet and have dinner together?]
Sam didn't expect this response at all. Never in his life had a woman asked him out for dinner. He suspected Sarah wanted something from him, which is why she invited him.
[Location?]
The reply came instantly.
[Wait for the driver at the Academy gate.]
When Sam left the suite, he descended the stairs and headed out quietly into the night. He finally passed through the gate and waited for ten minutes before the driver arrived, rolled down the window, and told him to get in.
Once Sam climbed in, the car sped off, eventually coming to a stop at the entrance of a luxurious restaurant. Sam looked at the level of people's clothing, then at his own hoodie, his unstyled hair, and his short stature, letting out a quiet sigh of protest as he exited the vehicle.
As he turned to ask about Sarah's location in this massive place, he found that the driver had already departed without explaining a single thing. He swallowed hard and entered the establishment; surprisingly, the guards did not even block his path.
Sam wasn't prepared to search this entire place for Sarah, so he opened his phone.
[ Where are you exactly? ]
The reply came:
[ Directly above you. ]
She was looking down at him from behind the glass in the second-floor lounge, which was even more opulent.
Sam felt a tightness in his chest as he looked up at her waving from above.
He remembered from his previous life how high-end restaurants served plates with tiny portions of food; he was here to eat, not to "experience" being rich.
When he finally reached the second floor and headed to Sarah's table, he sat in the chair opposite her as she rested her hands on her cheeks.
"What do you want to eat?"
Sam adjusted himself in the seat and looked at the waiters carrying dishes entirely different from anything he knew.
"What do they serve here?"
Sarah thought for a moment. "This place is mostly for celebrations, so it doesn't serve specific items; they cook to order. How about submitting a 'Birthday Form'?"
Sam was puzzled by the name and naturally asked, "What is that?"
Sarah raised her arms. "Well... actually, the restaurant offers an option to enter your birth date, and they serve you the most requested dish for those born in the same month or day as you."
Sam didn't really care for such formalities, but he didn't refuse the experience since, ultimately, he wasn't the one paying the bill today. He took the form from the waiter...
Sam didn't know the names of the months or the exact year he was born in this world. As he looked at the form in confusion, Sarah misunderstood, assuming that since he was a foundling, he didn't know his own birthday.
She reached out, took the form from him, and wrote her own birthday on it instead.
"How about we both eat the same thing together?"
Sam nodded slowly, puzzled by her action, but he didn't give it much thought. As they both sat there, Sarah asked him:
"Haven't you heard the latest news from the Academy yet?"
Sam didn't show much of a reaction to her question. "Do you mean the article stating they caught the thief who stole the equipment from the Academy?"
Sarah nodded with a sigh. "Yes, as I mentioned moments ago... that thief was forced to confess to his crimes today. And that is a major problem."
Sam was surprised. "What's the problem? Do you have a connection to him?"
"Yes, in a way. This man confessed and accused one of my company's investors of being the one who ordered him to steal the Academy's equipment. Do you realize what that means?"
As Sam analyzed the matter, he understood immediately. It seemed, ironically, that the thief hadn't intended to steal for gain, but rather to frame this investor for some reason.
"Are you certain this investor's record is clean?"
"If it were clean, I wouldn't need you," she said. She paused for a moment before continuing, "This man is accused of store extortion cases, and there are some papers linking him to organizations opposing the King's authority."
"How could you accept such a man as a partner in your company?"
"It is not your job to ask. I invited you to dinner tonight; in your opinion, what can we do?"
Sam raised his arms. "The choice isn't mine. In fact, I wonder: do you need the investor's connections, or his money?"
"Does that matter?"
Sam smiled. "Of course it matters. If you need his connections, we must preserve and protect him. If it's just his money, then you need to escape with your reputation intact, frame him with a charge of insanity or drugs, get rid of him, and buy out his shares."
As Sarah and Sam continued their discussion, the food arrived and was placed on the table. The conversation didn't miss a beat.
"I still don't understand... is the Cresto Company really that important?"
"Yes, because if we acquire it, we will monopolize the market for Mana Stone excavation equipment."
From what he gathered from Sarah, this man's connections would facilitate the acquisition of "Cresto." Therefore, the investor, a man named Lawrence, had to come out of this mess clean.
"You are making too much of a fuss over something trivial. It's impossible for the Academy investigators to simply believe a thief's claims like that. They will surely realize he's trying to frame him."
Sarah waved her hand in dismissal.
"The investigators conducted a brief inquiry, and it turns out his daughter needed one of the materials the thief had stolen. The strange thing is, that material disappeared... and shortly after, everyone was surprised to find that his daughter had recovered."
"Oh, so this thief chose the perfect timing to target him."
"Exactly. It's incredibly frustrating."
As the two began to eat, Sam felt a surge of happiness. The food was plentiful and tasted exquisite—a perfect blend of proteins: a steak and a piece of perfectly grilled salmon. It made the gears in his mind turn even faster.
"Did this man's daughter actually receive the treatment and recover, or what?"
"Yes, he sold many of his possessions to treat her."
"Then I have the solution... an awareness program."
Sarah was puzzled by Sam's words.
"As you said, the 'Daima' company—your competitor—is the one behind this," Sam continued. "Surely, your investor bought this medicine through the black market, which is why he lacks proof that he purchased it legally."
Sam leaned back, a cold, calculating glint in his eyes.
"Forget the awareness program. Let's do something more... decisive. Lawrence should file a lawsuit and demand massive compensation from the thief. He will claim that this criminal sold him the medicine on the black market with the deliberate intent to kill his daughter."
Sam's smile widened, devoid of any warmth.
"To make it airtight, have Lawrence put a small amount of non-lethal poison in his daughter's system now. He will present her as a victim of the 'poisoned' medicine sold by that thief. This way, he can argue that the thief is not only a criminal but a murderer who is now trying to smear Lawrence's reputation to cover up his own attempt at killing a child."