Assets

"Shut down the business on Maurice's side. Tell Old Batty that, aside from the core operations, everything else should begin the business contraction process. The company will send new financial and business personnel over..."

The atmosphere in the office was different from usual.

Instead of sitting quietly behind his desk as he normally did, Mann Laval stood alone before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, his phone pressed tightly to one ear. An unfamiliar encrypted communication interface glowed on its screen.

Through the glass, the Eiffel Tower in the distance had only just lit up for the night.

Only after he put down the phone and turned around—

Mann loosened his tie. There was a trace of barely concealed exhaustion on his face, yet his gaze remained deeply composed.

It was clear that he had just ended a seemingly brief but weighty call.

Arnaud Clermont stood quietly to one side, respectfully holding a tablet in his hands.

"Arnaud, I'm sorry to have kept you this late." The man who served as both head of the Laval Consortium and patriarch of the Laval Family spoke in a voice somewhat lower than usual. "But I'm afraid you'll have to work overtime with me tonight."

Returning to his desk, he took out a thick document and handed it to the aged Arnaud Clermont across from him.

The capable aide who had served his family for over thirty years—and who was also half-retired from his role as the company's operations officer—set down the tablet and carefully reviewed the information inside.

The further he read, the tighter his brow furrowed.

"Liquidating capital? Why the urgency? The businesses slated for closure here account for at least half of our main production capacity."

"Yes. That's why I called you here."

Mr. Mann sat back in his familiar seat and let out a long breath.

"The family has encountered a rather 'special' asset. Remember, the family—not the consortium."

"This asset is extremely important. We need to acquire it at any cost."

"Master Mann, did you just say... 'at any cost'?"

The old man named Arnaud looked as if he suspected he had misheard.

"That's right. You heard correctly. At all costs."

"...Understood. What do you need me to do?"

After the old man's brief silence, Mann Laval also paused for several seconds, as though considering how to phrase his words.

"The problem is that this asset isn't an open-market transaction. There won't be any further bidding stages, and the window is extremely short. The price is impossible to predict, but it should be astronomical—and its value far exceeds even that."

"At present, there aren't many 'people' watching it, or rather, many with sufficient strength. But if nothing unexpected happens, that situation will rapidly worsen..."

"So we have to seize this opportunity and make immediate cuts."

As an old man who had watched Mann grow up—or perhaps half a member of the family himself—Arnaud Clermont directly guessed what Mann had yet to say.

—This was clearly going to be an unplanned, perhaps even covert acquisition outside the consortium's channels.

"How much liquid reserve do we need?"

"There's no upper limit. The more, the better. But in theory, every investment will bring enormous returns beyond estimation. That's why I need your help."

The master behind the desk sighed as well.

"Arnaud, you're an old hand of the family. Naturally, there are people to handle the consortium's assets. But those young men don't know much about some of the family's industries. It would be safer for you to deal with them."

"Understood. Rapid liquidation, with priority given to the more liquid portion of the family's private assets..." As if confirming something, the old man considered it for a moment. "Then I'd like to ask first: do the private collections your father kept at the villa need to be retained separately?"

"Sell all of them."

"Very well. Then we'll bypass public auctions for the artworks and move directly into the exchange process. The tradable shares held by the family in Dirus and Diamond Group can be among the first to be sold after the market opens tomorrow."

"Good. But notify Charles in advance. The price of the artworks can be somewhat flexible, but the payment terms must be strict. The down payment can't be lower than sixty percent... No, fifty percent." Mann nodded again. "What about our factories in Puluokes?"

"Selling them as a whole would be too slow; it requires a conversion period." The old man's response was highly professional. "But we can separate the core assets from the real estate."

"Sell the quality assets first. Package the brands and intellectual property together and sell them directly to local competitors. The land and factory buildings can be handled later, or simply used as collateral to apply for short-term bridge loans from banks with close ties to the consortium. At a time like this, even higher interest rates are acceptable."

"Good. Do that." Mann rubbed his brow hard. "But Bornido... that may be the most troublesome part. Those wineries aren't merely assets. There are many old people there who watched us boys grow up."

"Understood, Young Master Mann. I'll personally speak with those old friends. We all grew up beneath the family's protection back then. I believe they'll understand the family's situation."

Hearing that he was no longer being called "Master," but "Young Master," the patriarch in his fifties gave him a deep look before finally sighing.

"I'm counting on you, Uncle Arnaud."

The gray-haired old man did not reply. He merely placed a hand over his chest. "For the Laval Family."

For some reason, both of them fell silent at that moment.

A few breaths later, seeing that Mann had no further instructions—

Arnaud finally stood, picked up his coat, and said, "Then I'll be leaving first. I have to fly to Bornido early tomorrow morning. Master Mann, don't stay up too late either."

...Only after the tablet left the office with the old man and the door closed softly behind him—

The middle-aged man behind the desk sat in silence for a while before shaking his head and firmly pressing a button on the desk.

As the room switched to soft indirect lighting, replacing the somewhat glaring cold light, a soundless barrier facility unfolded within the walls, sealing off the inside from the outside.

"Klud, come out."

His gaze seemed to casually drift toward the shadowed area on the right side of the office, where a row of tall oak bookshelves stood beside a dark leather recliner.

There appeared to be nothing in the shadows.

But a few seconds later, the shadows beside the bookshelves rippled slightly, like heat haze distorting the air.

A young figure gradually emerged from that dimness at a slow, almost unstable pace.

The young man, whose hair color was nearly identical to Mann's, had a pale face and tiny beads of sweat at his temples. The instant he appeared, he began gulping down air without regard for his appearance.

Like a fish returned to water.

Clearly, even while remaining perfectly still, maintaining this rudimentary Shadow Stealth ability was still an extremely taxing task for a novice like him.

Yet his face bore an undisguised smile.

"You heard everything... I hope you can live up to the family's—and my—full support and sacrifice this time, child."

Looking into those eyes—eyes like those of a hawk, utterly different from his own in youth yet strangely similar—Mann hesitated, then ultimately offered only that reminder.

"I won't let your investment go to waste."

The young man named Klud shrugged, as though he had finally relaxed considerably, though his tone still carried a hint of flippancy.

"And besides, this is an opportunity that no King of Francia could possibly ignore."

"At the very least, even if we can't buy more slots from those who got there first, my dear grandfather wouldn't possibly miss the Life-prolonging medicine in the list, would he?"

"...That depends on you, my child."

Seeing his unconcerned expression, Mann's gaze grew even more complicated.

"Remember: no member of the Laval Family is a weakling unworthy of their place."