Building A Business Empire From Scratch In Another World-Chapter 203: Shadows In The Mansion

Astheria was a cacophony of life by day, market stalls clamored for attention, merchants haggled fiercely over prices, and nobles paraded in luxurious carriages, their guards flanking them like shadows.

Banners fluttered proudly in the wind, adding to the vibrant chaos.

But all of these noise do not matter in this place.

Nestled on the outskirts, far from the bustling heart of the city where trees stood tall and thick, lay a secluded manor. Its gates were rusted, its walls unadorned compared to the marble grandeur of noble estates.

A heavy silence enveloped this place, broken only by the soft chirping of crickets hidden in the brush.

To an unsuspecting passerby, it might have seemed abandoned.

Yet inside, life pulsed with an unseen energy. Carriages filled the courtyard, their crests concealed beneath drab cloths to mask their owners' identities.

Horses shifted nervously as riders exchanged hushed whispers before slipping through the manor's doors.

Deep below ground level,where sunlight dared not tread,dim torches flickered in a hidden chamber.

The circular room was carved from raw stone, its damp walls glistening with moisture.

At its center stood a formidable granite table around which six nobles sat.

Their faces were as varied as their titles; yet each wore a mask of bitterness that spoke volumes.

Greed simmered in their eyes while frowns marred their lips and restless hands drummed against the stone surface.

For what felt like an eternity, only the crackle of torches broke the stillness until finally one noble spoke,a voice sharp enough to slice through tension.

---

"So we gained nothing," Lord Frannick spat out bitterly,a short man with a balding head and a sharp nose that seemed to pierce through his frustration.

He slammed his fist against the table so hard that veins bulged in his neck. "Nothing! Not even a scrap of blueprint! After all that noise and bloodshed… what do we have? Nothing!"

Murmurs echoed around him like ripples on water.

A pale noblewoman adorned with heavy rings leaned forward, her eyes blazing with indignation.

"Do you realize what this means? We risked exposure! That battle last night… half the city is buzzing about it! And what did we gain? Absolutely nothing!"

"Worse than nothing," another voice growled, a hefty man named Lord Werrick whose face was perpetually flushed red with anger.

"We've revealed our hand! That Morningstar brat knows someone is after him now; he'll only tighten his grip."

For a moment, frustration simmered among them until they returned to discussing what gnawed at them all,the bicycle.

Lord Frannick slammed his fist onto the table, the sound echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap.

"That boy is a cunning little fox! He knew exactly what he was doing with those contraptions!"

Across the table, a noble leaned forward, his voice low and seething with fury.

"I bought one myself to have it dismantled. I ordered my men to take it apart rune by rune. Do you know what happened? Every single one of them collapsed,dizzy, unconscious, sprawled on the floor like drunkards!"

Another noble chimed in, his face drained of color. "It's true! I tried as well. Not just dizziness,one of those blasted things exploded! Runes all over it, yet none triggered the blast! Two of my retainers died on the spot, their flesh torn apart as if cursed by the very bicycle itself!"

A heavy silence fell over the room at this shocking revelation.

Even the angriest among them shifted uneasily in their seats.

There was no denying it now,Felix Morningstar had woven protection into his inventions, layers of traps hidden in plain sight.

If dismantling them brought death, even the most skilled craftsmen would hesitate to tamper further.

One by one, the nobles lowered their heads; their fury slowly gave way to helplessness.

Because beyond fear lay something far crueler: envy.

They all knew the truth.

Every morning, lines of commoners snaked around Morningstar's shops before dawn broke.

Coins clutched tightly in calloused hands, they were desperate to buy bicycles before stock ran out.

Each day saw thousands of units vanish into Astheria's streets, filling them with a symphony of clattering wheels.

And every unit sold meant mountains upon mountains of gold slipping into Morningstar's coffers while they watched from shadows,excluded and powerless.

It was enough to drive them mad!

---

The silence stretched until finally a noblewoman broke it with a sly smile curling her lips.

"If we cannot touch his inventions," she mused thoughtfully, "then why not target his businesses? I hear Morningstar has opened restaurants across the capital… Why not strike there?"

Her words stirred excitement within the chamber.

"Aye," one man nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with malicious intent. "That was his first foothold,restaurants! And they've done exceptionally well."

Another noble slammed his palm flat against the table. "Yes! Ruin his reputation! Poison food, spread rumors,let chaos reign and turn public opinion against him!"

The air buzzed as others began speaking at once; greed igniting fervor among them.

But then, from the corner of the chamber, a noble coughed and raised a hand.

"Hold on just a moment! Have we forgotten what happened to those who dared challenge before? Lord Duskbane, Baroness Veyra, Lord Cedric, Lady Isolde Montclair, Lord Hale… they all tried. They all failed. And let's not forget,their humiliations became fodder for every gossiping tongue in the city."

The room fell silent.

The speaker's face twisted into a wry grin. "Do you remember? Their blunders became the talk of every tea party and card game. We laughed as they stumbled over themselves trying to outsmart Morningstar,only to become a spectacle for us all."

The weight of that memory settled heavily over them once more.

Helplessness crept back in, thicker than before.

Suddenly, the torches flickered ominously.

From the shadows at the edge of the chamber emerged a figure cloaked entirely in black,a chilling presence that sent shivers down their spines.

A faint symbol adorned his cloak: the thorn of midnight.

It was The Black Thorn.

Panic rippled through the nobles as they half-rose from their seats.

But recognition washed over them like cold water; they sank back down, caught between relief and dread.

Lord Werrick was the first to regain his composure.

Anger flared within him as he slammed both fists onto the table, his voice booming with authority. "You! What are you doing here? Your mission failed! You and your assassins accomplished nothing!"

Others quickly rallied behind him, emboldened by his fury.

"You promised us Morningstar's downfall!"

"Your men couldn't even breach his fortress!"

"After all this chaos, he stands taller than ever!"

Shouts filled the air,accusations hurled at that lone figure draped in darkness.

And just then...

BOOOM!

An invisible wave crashed upon them.

It wasn't sound or light; it was sheer weight, a suffocating aura that pressed down on each noble like an enormous mountain.

They were forced back into their seats as breaths caught painfully in their throats.

Even the flames of the torches bent sideways under this unseen force.

The atmosphere thickened until it felt almost unbearable.

In an instant, their anger evaporated, replaced by raw terror.

Sweat trickled down their brows while trembling limbs felt shackled to their chairs by invisible chains.

Yet The Black Thorn operative remained still, his masked face unreadable but when he spoke, his voice sliced through the tension like steel cutting through silk.

"You failed."

His words echoed coldly throughout the chamber.

"You didn't investigate Morningstar or uncover his strengths and thus you failed miserably. Last night wasn't defeat; it was revelation. Now we know what lies ahead."

The nobles sat in stunned silence, their lips sealed tighter than a vault. Each breath felt like a struggle, their chests heaving as if they were drowning in the thick, oppressive atmosphere.

The masked man leaned forward slightly, his presence so heavy that even the stone walls seemed to groan under its weight.

"Be patient," he finally spoke, his voice smooth yet chilling. "Our plans are unfolding. The Morningstars will fall,just not today or tomorrow. But when they do, you'll have everything you desire. Until then… wait."

With those final words, he melted back into the shadows like smoke dissipating in the wind.

As if a great burden had been lifted from their shoulders, the nobles slumped against the table, gasping for air.

Their faces drained of color, hair slick with sweat; their hearts raced as though they had narrowly escaped death itself.

For what felt like an eternity, silence reigned in the chamber, broken only by their ragged breaths echoing off the cold stone walls.

Finally, Lord Frannick wiped his brow with a trembling hand and croaked out, "Gods above…"

They all sat there in quiet disbelief,the image of that masked figure burned into their minds like a brand.

Fury simmered beneath the surface and greed flickered hotter than ever before but now it was tainted with something sharper: fear.

The shadow of the Black Thorn loomed over them all.

And while their hearts still longed for gold and glory, one undeniable truth settled over them like a dark cloud: they were pawns now.