37: Chapter 37 An Afternoon Tea Not for Selling Goods

Viscount Fernand Clement looked up blankly, like a quail lost in a thick fog, completely unable to keep up with his new master's train of thought.

How could they sell things without renting a shop?

Did they have to be like country peddlers, pushing a wheelbarrow and hawking their wares in the streets and alleys?

That would be worse than death; the last shred of dignity of the Clement family would be utterly gone.

"A decent product needs a decent way to debut. And a clever merchant knows how to create the most decent stage for their product." Levi didn't look at him again, but paced on his own to the sand table in the center of the office, his fingers lightly brushing over the model of St. Andrew's City. "The Gold Coin Chamber of Commerce has blocked all the 'stages' we can reach, so we'll build one ourselves. A stage they want to block, but have no way of doing so."

Levi stopped and turned to Fernand, his gaze as sharp as if it could cut through a person's heart. "Fernand, your title of Viscount, your ancestral home—shabby but still decent—and your familiar face that still holds some warmth in the aristocratic circles of St. Andrew's City, are our best stage curtains."

Fernand's Adam's apple bobbed up and down; he vaguely guessed something, but felt the idea was too unorthodox.

"In your name," Levi's voice was clear and firm, leaving no room for negotiation, "send invitations to all the prominent noble ladies in the city. Say that you, Viscount Fernand Clement, to cleanse your soul and reclaim your family's glory, have decided to host a 'Blackstone Territory New Product Tasting Charity Afternoon Tea.' All proceeds will be donated to the Church of Radiance's orphanage to provide winter clothes and food for those poor children."

"Charity?" Fernand's eyes widened; he almost doubted his ears.

They could barely feed themselves, and they wanted to do charity?

And donate all the proceeds?

Was the Lord crazy?

"Yes, charity." The corner of Levi's mouth curled into a meaningful arc. "This is a reason no one can refuse, especially those noble ladies who have money and leisure and care deeply about their reputations. Remember, our goal isn't to make money, but to 'do good'."

He deliberately emphasized the words "do good," his tone making a chill run down Fernand's spine for some reason.

Sunlight filtered through the orphanage's only intact stained-glass window, casting a mottled glow.

The air was filled with a faint scent of disinfectant mixed with low-quality bread.

Cecilia, a novice nun, was using a faded old cloth to carefully wipe the small statue of the lord of radiance on the shrine.

She was very young, perhaps not even eighteen, with a face showing lingering childishness and a purity from long-term seclusion from the world.

A soft sound of footsteps echoed at the door. She turned around and saw the Mother Superior leading a strange black-haired young man inside.

The young man wore a proper linen shirt and had a gentle smile on his face. His black eyes seemed to hold a sincerity that could make anyone let down their guard.

"Cecilia," the Mother Superior's voice carried a hint of irrepressible excitement, "this is the Lord of Blackstone Territory, Lord Levi Byron. He... he is a truly kind-hearted man."

Levi nodded slightly to the young nun, his gaze sweeping over the gaunt children sitting or standing in the chapel.

They wore old clothes covered in patches, their eyes full of timid curiosity toward the stranger.

He didn't say much, just lightly clapped his hands.

Outside the door, two guards carried in a heavy wooden crate.

The lid opened. Inside were not gold coins, but brand new, thick cotton clothes—enough for all the children to survive the winter—and several large bags of white bread smelling of wheat.

The children's eyes lit up instantly, and even Cecilia couldn't help but cover her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

These supplies were enough to solve the orphanage's biggest problem this winter.

"The Lord will remember your kindness, my Lord," Cecilia said with a slight sob, bowing deeply.

"I'm just doing what I can to share a bit of the Lord's insignificant labor," Levi's tone was sincere enough to move the most cold-hearted person. "In fact, I have one more thing I need the Church's help with."

He laid out the plan for the afternoon tea and earnestly stated that to ensure the purity and sanctity of this charity event, he hoped to invite a representative of the Church as a witness to oversee the destination of all funds.

"I hope this event is pure, without a trace of the smell of money. Having a pure soul like yours present will convince those generous ladies that every bit of their kindness will truly be passed into the hands of these children under the gaze of the Lord." Levi's gaze fell on Cecilia, his eyes clear and open.

Facing such a generous donor and such a seemingly sacred request, neither the Mother Superior nor the simple Cecilia could find any reason to refuse.

"I... I am willing to go, my Lord." Cecilia nodded without hesitation. Doing more for the children was her greatest wish.

Looking at the girl's eyes, clear as stream water and free of impurities, the smile on Levi's face became even gentler.

He knew he had found the most crucial and irreproachable "holy halo" for this grand play.

The Clement ancestral home was located in the old noble district of St. Andrew's City. Although the stone carvings in the courtyard were weathered and the ivy in the corners seemed somewhat neglected, the heritage of a century-old family still made the place more stylish than any magnificent new shop.

The afternoon sun was just right. Under the temporary white canopy in the garden, the long tables were covered with stiffly starched white tablecloths, set with exquisite silver tea sets and fragrant pastries.

A group of the most prestigious noble ladies in the city were now gathered in small groups, waving small feather fans and talking in low voices.

They came partly out of curiosity about the name "charity," and partly to see what that notorious, destitute Fernand Clement was up to.

Fernand wore his best formal suit from the bottom of his trunk, weaving through the crowd, his palms sweating from nervousness.

But he kept Levi's instructions in mind, never mentioning anything related to products, only repeatedly emphasizing his sympathy for the orphanage and the original intention of hosting this afternoon tea.

Just as the ladies were starting to feel a bit bored, thinking this was just an ordinary fundraising event, a special guest arrived late, "accompanied" by Evelyn.

"Oh, my, it's Sister Cecilia," a sharp-eyed lady whispered.

Everyone's gaze focused there.

Cecilia, dressed in her simple novice nun's habit, appeared at the garden entrance with a hint of shyness and unease.

Her appearance instantly plated the afternoon tea with a layer of sacred radiance.

Even the Church had sent someone to witness it; it seemed this charity event was the real deal.

And the woman beside Cecilia attracted the attention of the other half of the ladies.

She wore a well-tailored, dark purple silk gown they had never seen before; the style was intricate but not bulky, tracing breathtaking curves.

Her black hair was piled high, secured with an ebony hairpin carved with strange patterns. On her face, she wore a pair of peculiar "glasses" with no lenses, made purely of crystal and mithril, more decorative than practical. She exuded a mystery and nobility from a distant ancient Eastern country.

"Allow me to introduce to you," Evelyn said at the right moment, pushing this "distinguished guest" forward in a Common Tongue that had a foreign accent but was perfectly enunciated, "this is Countess Hecate from the distant Silk Continent, my master."

This was the identity Levi had carefully designed for Evelyn.

A mysterious, noble, foreign Countess.

Only such an identity could instantly overshadow all the noblewomen present, giving every word she said next an unquestionable authority.

"Countess" Evelyn didn't actively promote anything; she just sat elegantly in the main seat, chatting with several of the highest-ranking ladies about the customs of the East.

Her conversation was elegant and witty, and her knowledge was astonishingly broad; she soon became the center of attention.

When the conversation reached its peak, she seemingly casually took a small round box made of frosted crystal from her small handbag, opened the lid, dipped a bit of the milky white paste inside with her fingertip, and gently applied it to the back of her hand.

An indescribable, elegant fragrance—a blend of Morning Dew Roses and Moonlight Grass—instantly diffused through the air.

[part:gemini-2.5-flash]

What surprised the ladies closest to her even more was that the skin on the back of her already fair and delicate hand, after applying the balm, seemed to be infused with a soft glow, becoming even more moisturized and firm, radiating a healthy luster like a pearl.

"Oh, my God, Countess, what are you using?" a Duchess could no longer contain her curiosity and was the first to ask.

Evelyn raised her hand, admiring it in the sunlight, a faint smile on her face: "Just a small trinket from the East used for skin care. We call it 'Magic Balm'. It has a tiny bit of dew from the Spring of Life and petal essence picked from the Elven Garden. It's nothing rare."

Nothing rare?

All the ladies present held their breath for a moment.

Dew from the Spring of Life?

Petals from the Elven Garden?

Any one of these was a legendary material capable of causing a sensation at a royal auction!

"Can... can such a precious thing be... be sold?" another lady asked eagerly, her eyes fixed on the small crystal box, as if it contained the elixir of eternal youth.

Evelyn subtly shook her head, her gaze fleetingly falling on Sister Cecilia not far away, a hint of appropriate regret in her voice: "I'm very sorry, ladies. This is not a commodity. It is a batch of 'Divine Grace Items' specially made by an alchemist friend of mine in response to this charity event."

"Divine Grace Items?"

"Yes." Evelyn closed the lid, her tone becoming solemn, "Its value lies not in the materials, but in the goodwill it carries. My friend said that only truly kind people with love in their hearts, willing to generously open their purses for God's children, are worthy of receiving this gift of divine grace. Therefore, it will not be sold, but will only be given as a token of appreciation to the most loving lady present today."

These words were like a giant rock thrown into a calm lake, instantly stirring up thousands of waves in the circle of noblewomen.

This was no longer a simple transaction; it had become a competition of 'love,' 'status,' and 'worthiness'!

Whoever obtained this box of balm would prove to everyone that she was the noblest, kindest, and most worthy person in this circle to be favored by 'Divine Grace'!

Under the clear gaze of the pure Sister Cecilia, any bargaining seemed crude and unsightly.

Want to prove your 'love'?

It's simple, donate!

"I am willing to donate one hundred gold coins to the orphanage!" the Duchess immediately stood up and announced loudly, as if afraid of falling behind.

"One hundred gold coins? How generous!" Evelyn praised with a smile, then added, "To ensure the purity of this 'charity,' and to allow more loving people to share in this divine grace, my friend specifically instructed that each generous lady today can receive a maximum of one box of balm."

Limited! One box per person!

These two phrases were like two barrels of boiling oil, completely igniting the atmosphere.

Rare, noble, and limited purchase—this almost hit all the right spots for the noblewomen.

"I'll donate one hundred and fifty gold coins!"

"Two hundred! I'll offer two hundred!"

The scene instantly turned into a bidding war of 'love'.

The prices soared, and Cecilia watched the constantly reported astronomical sums for the orphanage, her small face flushed with excitement, her hands clasped tightly to her chest, continuously praising the lord of radiance in a low voice.

She was completely unaware that her pure and unblemished presence had become the sharpest scythe in this marketing feast.

Ultimately, the fifty boxes of 'Magic Balm' brought were 'given away' completely.

As the event neared its end, just as the ladies were content and preparing to leave with their 'trophies' and 'proof of love,' Evelyn announced another piece of news.

"Thank you very much for your generosity today, ladies. To facilitate your continued acts of kindness in the future, and to ensure you don't miss any 'new charity products' imbued with love, we have specially launched a 'Rose of Love' pre-deposit plan."

She took out an exquisite card, edged with mithril and engraved with rose patterns.

"Ladies who pre-deposit one hundred gold coins in 'charitable funds' today will receive this 'Love Rose Card'. Cardholders will automatically become honorary members of our 'Blackstone Territory Charity Foundation,' enjoying priority tasting rights for all future charity new products, as well as... exclusive customized services."

As soon as these words were spoken, the ladies, who had just been immersed in the joy of victory, stirred again.

Priority tasting rights? Exclusive customized services?

What did this mean?

It meant that possessing this card was equivalent to always being one step ahead of others in this top-tier circle!

The chaotic scene of today would not happen again; they would become that small group of people who received priority service!

To maintain their status in the circle, and for that unique sense of superiority, almost no one hesitated.

The ladies who had just spent a fortune for a box of balm once again opened their purses.

As the afterglow of the setting sun cast long shadows from Viscount Clemon's ancestral home, a tea party that wasn't for selling goods came to an end.

Fernand watched the guards carry away several fully loaded, heavy boxes of gold coins, still feeling utterly unreal.

He roughly estimated that in just one afternoon, the cash they had recovered exceeded five thousand gold coins.

This amount of money was more than enough not just to rent three shops, but to buy all the best ones on Golden Lily Street.

And all of this, without a single 'product' being sold.

They were merely 'doing good deeds'.

Meanwhile, in the luxurious office on the top floor of the Gold Coin Chamber of Commerce.

President Sallon was toying with a pure gold coin engraved with a lion emblem.

His plump fingers were unusually nimble, making the coin flip and dance between his knuckles.

A subordinate in a black bodysuit, like a shadow, was kneeling on one knee, reporting the entire afternoon tea.

"...So, that Lord of Blackstone Territory, with an unknown female swindler and a pile of lard with some spices, conned several thousand gold coins from those foolish women?"

Sallon finished listening to the report, a sneer of contempt curling his lips.

In his opinion, this was nothing more than a cheap parlor trick, not fit for proper business.

Making quick money off women's vanity might bring temporary glory, but it was ultimately rootless.

The foundation of business was channels, supply, and unbypassable rules.

"A bunch of fools, being played by a little trick." Sallon suddenly clenched the coin in his palm, his eyes turning sinister, "Since this young lord likes to play dirty, then we'll play along."

He stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at St. Andrew's City as the lights began to come on.

"Have you found out the location of their cargo transfer warehouse outside the city?"

"Yes, President." The man in black replied in a deep voice, "According to reports from our informant on Baron Todd's side, and our investigation of several main trade routes outside the city, we can basically confirm that their goods are stockpiled at the Abandoned Drywood Forest Logging Camp, thirty miles east of the city."

"Very good." Sallon turned around, a cruel smile on his face, like a shark about to pounce on its prey, "Since he can't rent a shop, his goods can only be piled outside the city. Convey my orders: assemble the Chamber of Commerce Guard, under the guise of 'joint patrol to combat smuggling,' and raid that logging camp. I want to see what he'll use to continue his 'charity' enterprise without his goods."

Sallon's eyes gleamed with cold confidence.

In his view, the initiative in this game had always been firmly in his hands.

That young Lord of Blackstone Territory was merely a small fish in the net; no matter how much he struggled, his ultimate fate was already sealed.

The man in black took the order, his figure flickering, silently blending into the shadows of the room and disappearing.

As night deepened, a Chamber of Commerce Guard composed of fifty elite thugs, led by a fierce captain, rode out of the East Gate of St. Andrew's City with torches and fast horses, like a fiery dragon, silently galloping towards Drywood Forest.

Their horses' hooves were wrapped in thick burlap, making only muffled 'thudding' sounds as they moved, and a chilling aura permeated the cold night wind.