God of Contracts: Strongest Businessman

Thorne's reception room.

In the welcoming reception room, a collection of plush sofas forms an inviting arrangement, encouraging conversation and relaxation. Positioned thoughtfully, the assortment of comfortable seating creates an atmosphere of warmth and conviviality. Amidst the sofas, several coffee tables stand, offering convenient surfaces for placing drinks or cherished items, fostering an air of ease and comfort.

While the walls boast no paintings, the room comes to life with the presence of decorative flowers dispersed throughout. Their vibrant colors and delicate fragrance infuse the space with natural charm, adding a touch of elegance to the room's ambiance. Abundant natural light floods the room through large windows adorned with opened curtains, casting a soft glow that illuminates the inviting setting.

No visitors had graced this room for years, Ferran being the last. Thankfully, the Thorne household staff diligently tended to it, preserving its allure. Without their regular care, the room's charm would have faded, rendering it unprepared for the visit of the two young nobles.

However, at this moment, their attention is absorbed by more pressing matters, diverting their focus from such considerations. Ronald, in particular, found himself staring at his cousin. Despite the 'mishap', the cousin stood before him, adorned in neat garments, devoid of any visible injuries or blemishes. Ronald's gaze lingered for minutes, a mix of confusion and intrigue painting his expression.

How the heck do you get hit by lightning and end up without a single injury? And even if one attributes that to a strong physique, how can one explain the fact that his clothes are still as neat as before? Clothes able to resist lightning weren't so cheap that one would wear them for a casual visit, regardless of one's wealth. And there's no way 'normal' clothes would remain undamaged after a lightning strike unless... It was all an illusion.

Since then, this hypothesis has lingered in his thoughts, offering a plausible explanation for the absence of any aftermath. Not only Alan, but even the ground beneath his feet remained unscathed. Could this truly be feasible? Ronald leaned towards the notion that it might be a mere illusion, a more comfortable narrative to accept than the baffling reality presented before him.

However, the anguish etched across Alan's face at that instance, and the persistent anxiety he carried since then, seemed too genuine to feign. Furthermore, the maid's astonishment, evident as she recoiled at the moment, suggested she witnessed it as well. Did that imply she, too, was ensnared in the same illusion?

Contemplating this, Ronald couldn't stifle a shiver. What level of mastery in illusionism must one possess to ensnare three individuals in the same deceit, even to the extent of persuading Alan that he genuinely experienced a lightning strike? The realization struck him with a sense of dread, particularly when he recalled that illusionism wasn't an established path. This implied that the mastermind either hailed from a substantial background in the field or was self-taught. Whichever the case, it struck terror within him.

It dawned on him that his curiosity about the Thorne family's esteemed reputation led him here, and now, he finally comprehended the reason behind their profound respect.

'They probably have more hidden experts,' he pondered. The timing of the apparent "attack" on Alan, following his overt offense toward Marcus, strongly suggested the involvement of someone associated with the Thornes. It struck him then that Alan's escape from serious harm might have been a strategic move to avoid unnecessary clashes with a prestigious Marquis house. He had no doubt that illusions, if wielded with malevolent intent, held the potential for deadly consequences. While Alan had escaped death, the harrowing experience would undoubtedly dissuade him from daring to disrespect the Thorne family for an extended period.

Moreover, Ronald mulled over the complex aftermath. Even if Alan chose to voice his grievance to the Thornes, the absence of concrete proof posed a significant challenge. The anonymity of the assailant shielded the Thornes from direct accusations or repercussions.

In the end, the Thornes could effortlessly dismiss any claims as a ruse aimed at extorting money, leaving the accusers defenseless. In contrast to the Thornes, any other family would be held accountable for an attack that occurred within their domain, regardless of the availability of evidence. The burden of responsibility would lie squarely on their shoulders.

It was yet another privilege wielded by the Thorne family-accusing or affronting them without concrete evidence resulted in severe consequences. Even if it were a prince in Alan's shoes, the situation would remain unchanged. The royal family might express displeasure, but their hands would be tied, incapable of taking any action.

Ronald felt immense relief that he refrained from mentioning anything about the Thorne family. It wasn't that he echoed Alan's sense of superiority, but he realized he could have inadvertently misspoken and become a target as well.

Ronald's enthusiasm for the mission had waned considerably. Initially driven by curiosity about the enigmatic Thornes, he now felt over-saturated with the knowledge he'd gained. The fear of unintentional transgressions during the meeting, potentially triggering a similar 'attack', weighed heavily on his mind. If it happened, where could he even complain?

He had been overly naive. He came to realize that, perhaps unconsciously, he also held a condescending view of Thornes.

Otherwise, how would he muster the courage to visit a family at odds with his own, especially without any guards? He consented to leave his guards outside, a reasonable request from the Thorne family. Yet, deep down, he assumed that even without guards, he'd be safe from any real danger, believing the Thornes wouldn't dare harm him. What a mistaken belief that turned out to be. He couldn't have been more wrong.

'I've come this far; might as well get it over with,' he thought to himself, clenching his fists to regain his composure.

"At least I know he won't do anything foolish," he reassured himself, glancing at his visibly anxious cousin, who had curled up in apprehension.

Moments later, the door swung open, and a young man stepped into the room.