Lucian deliberately let the doubt in his heart show in his tone as he said, "Mr. Ivanovsky? What business do you have to discuss at this hour? Can it wait until tomorrow?"
This was exactly the reaction a normal noble should have.
Ivanovsky maintained his amiable tone and smiled. "Something good. I'm acquainted with several viscounts of the Vladimir family, and we're on good terms. So when I saw you, Mr. Peter, I felt a certain closeness. Besides, you're brave and steadfast, strictly abiding by the knight's creed — exactly the kind of friend worth knowing on a deeper level. When there's something good to be had, how could I let outsiders benefit instead of seeking out a friend?"
"Something good," "a connection at first sight," and similar phrases gave Lucian a sense of déjà vu — he felt like he'd run into a scammer again. But Ivanovsky was a famous smuggling magnate; surely he hadn't "fallen" to that level, had he?
After a moment's thought, seeing that Ivanovsky had already shown up at his door, Lucian decided to hear him out and find out what this "good thing" was all about. It would be better to know in advance for whatever came next. As long as he didn't let greed take hold, there was no way to be deceived. Besides, a major smuggler like this relied on connections and resources — he probably hadn't bothered to hone his "acting skills." It would likely be possible to see through his true intentions from his every movement.
So An Actor's Self-Cultivation really was a divine book. Lucian grumbled inwardly while using a knight's intuition to sense beyond the door. He detected that there was indeed someone beside Ivanovsky whose presence was hard to make out clearly. But this person appeared openly as Ivanovsky's assistant and bodyguard, making no attempt to hide.
With his left hand resting on "Frostbite," Lucian casually pulled open the door.
Ivanovsky was dressed just as he had been at the ball, like a winter bear wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Beside him followed an elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair dressed in a black suit and black bowtie. Cloudy black pupils, wrinkles that couldn't be concealed, and a cold demeanor all combined to project a sinister impression. He carried a black leather case and stood a head shorter than Ivanovsky.
When Ivanovsky saw that Lucian had come to open the door himself, he said with a hint of puzzlement, "Mr. Peter, where is your butler? This sort of task shouldn't fall to a knight, to a gentleman."
"My butler fell ill because of the blizzard, so I told him to rest early and not push himself. I was admiring the moonlight and didn't expect any visitors," Lucian explained casually. "And this is?"
Ivanovsky smiled and gestured toward the sinister-looking old man. "This is my assistant, Matvey. He has wonderful business acumen and a unique understanding of economics."
"Is that so? I wonder what unique insights Mr. Matvey has regarding the production, distribution, allocation, and exchange of wealth? Does he believe that the entire commercial process follows its own laws, as if an invisible hand were manipulating everything?" Lucian asked with a straight face, carrying quite a bit of inner malice — the fellow looked more like a thug or bodyguard than a business advisor.
Matvey frowned but didn't answer. Ivanovsky's smile froze on his face, and after a long moment he let out a hearty laugh. "I didn't expect that you, Mr. Peter, had not only devoted yourself to the way of the knight but had also done such in-depth research into economics. It's rare to encounter a noble like you."
"Not at all, I just picked up a bit casually. Otherwise, once I have my own domain, it'll be easy for those business consultants and administrative managers to swindle me." Lucian didn't press further — leaving the other party without a way out wouldn't suit the current situation. What he'd done just now was more of a warning: don't treat me like a fool!
Ivanovsky "revealed" an expression of admiration. "That's a fine thought. In the future, more nobles should learn this kind of knowledge rather than simply entrusting everything to butlers and business consultants while only handling inspections and reaping the rewards."
He likewise didn't mention any specific economic content. With Lucian's hospitality, he sat down on the soft sofa, while Matvey quietly stood behind him, his gaze having taken on a somewhat sharp edge.
Lucian picked up the red porcelain pitcher on the glass coffee table and poured a glass of plain water each for himself and Ivanovsky. "Mr. Ivanovsky, may I ask what you've actually come to see me about?"
Ivanovsky's broad palm held the white-glazed porcelain teacup as if it were a toy. Without drinking, he smiled and said, "Mr. Peter, you should know that Count Witte has the blood of the Vladimir family, correct?"
"Of course. Count Witte's mother was a member of the Vladimir family — a female knight and baroness who awakened the family's distinctive 'Frost' bloodline. But what about it? Count Witte awakened the 'Withering' bloodline of his paternal line instead, and surpassed all his ancestors to become the first member of the Witte family to advance to Celestial Knight. He performed meritorious service in wars against the Sacred Helz Empire, the Kingdom of Tria, and the Vorlite Principality, elevating the Witte family's hereditary barony to a countship and seizing control of nearly half of Ural Province." Lucian spoke with ease — Count Witte was a noble he knew fairly well.
Ivanovsky smiled with unfathomable depth. "Then the good thing I've come to offer you, Mr. Peter, is a countship — an inheritance comparable to that of an ordinary duke."
Ural Province was rich in mines, and the nobles there, large and small, were far wealthier than their counterparts of the same rank elsewhere.
"What are you planning? Is Count Witte about to be called to the Lord?" Lucian asked in feigned alarm. "What does that have to do with me?"
Ivanovsky nodded gently. "Carlina is the niece of Count Witte's second wife and is close to the Count himself. According to her, Cardinal Nevsky of Ural City has declared that the Count has at most half a year left to live, and that his decline is due to natural aging — Divine Arts cannot cure it."
"The Count carries the 'Withering' bloodline, which already makes producing heirs difficult. During his prime, he was constantly fighting heretics in the south. After returning as a Count, he went through three wives and produced only one son, who sadly died before reaching the age of ten."