The Transmigrated Villain Claims the Heroines!

"I swear I heard her voice somewhere..."

"Did she go here?"

Of course, everything good has to have an end.

Didn’t even take five minutes for trouble to arrive...

Can’t I just talk with someone without anything else happening for at least an hour!? What am I saying... this is a romance fantasy novel’s world, of course, that can’t happen.

"C-Cassian, perhaps you’d like to tour other—"

Faye immediately tried to make an excuse, but this time she was too late.

THUD!

The door was kicked open with a loud kick, and on the other side were three very well-dressed merchants.

Didn’t take a genius to know what their identity was; they had pins just by the side of their shirts that proudly had the symbol of the merchant’s association.

How’d I know that?

Well... the carriage ride was definitely more than satisfactory when it came to helping me remember more about the world’s lore.

"It’s time for you to pay up, Lady Faye..."

The first merchant immediately stopped the moment he set foot in the room.

"What’s wrong—"

Then the other...

"The hell’s wrong with you two—!?"

And the last...

Man, if I could get a penny every time someone just randomly froze after seeing me, I’d probably double my net worth before the end of the month.

"D-Duke Noctierre! We didn’t know you were here!"

The three bowed in unison; they couldn’t believe they just kicked a door that led to somewhere the duke was sitting!

The room fell silent.

So silent, in fact, that I could hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall.

The three merchants were frozen mid-bow, backs bent at an awkward angle, clearly debating whether straightening up or staying like that would get them killed faster.

I blinked once.

Then twice.

But since it looked like none of them would even try moving a muscle...

"...You can stand up," I said, waving a hand. "You’re making the room tense."

They snapped upright instantly, shoulders stiff, sweat already forming on their brows.

Faye stood beside me, visibly flustered, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. I could practically feel her anxiety radiating through the air.

"I-I can explain," she rushed out, clearly panicking. "Cass— my lord, they’re not bad people, they’re just—"

"Collectors," I finished, glancing at the men. "Or creditors. One of the two."

Once again, didn’t really take a genius to know what’s going on; just from their tone alone, I could tell they were here to collect something overdue.

I could relate sadly enough...

The first merchant swallowed hard. "W-We’re representatives of the Merchant Association, Your Grace. We... had an outstanding contract with Lady Amberlyne’s household."

"Had?" I echoed mildly.

"Well—" he hesitated, then glanced nervously at Faye before continuing, "—it’s overdue."

Of course it is.

I sighed inwardly.

Romance fantasy worlds really loved their debt-based plot devices. Every heroine really does have to start broke, don’t they?

I turned slightly toward Faye and lowered my voice. "You don’t have to explain everything right now. I can handle this."

She looked at me in fear, not because she was scared of the merchants, but because she was scared of what I might do to them instead.

"...Are you sure?"

Not really, but saying that wouldn’t help.

Besides, financial problems? That sounds exactly like the area I could easily handle.

"I’m sure enough," I replied.

That seemed to calm her a little. Just a little... she still thinks I’d likely manhandle them.

I turned back to the merchants and gestured toward the chairs. "Sit."

They hesitated.

"S-Sit?" the second merchant repeated weakly.

"Yes," I said. "Unless you prefer standing for the entire conversation."

They sat.

Immediately.

I may not be a villain like this body was, but as any functional member of society, you’d know how to act professionally in times like this.

I’ve talked to higher-ups way too many times to the point I’m able to act like one.

All three of them perched stiffly on the edge of the chairs, backs straight, hands folded like students waiting to be scolded.

I leaned back instead, crossing one leg over the other, not because I was confident, but because copying relaxed noble body language felt like the safest option.

"Alright," I said. "Explain."

The first merchant cleared his throat. "Lady Amberlyne’s household signed a supply agreement two years ago. Imported textiles, preserved foods, imported tea leaves... the usual amenities."

Faye flinched slightly.

"...My parents were still overseeing things back then," she said quietly. "They expected the profits from our trade ventures to cover it."

"And?" I asked.

"They didn’t," the merchant replied carefully. "The ventures failed. Payments stopped. We extended the deadline multiple times."

Well... as plots go, that’s as generic as it gets.

"How generous," I muttered.

He winced. "We are a business, Your Grace. Not a charity."

"Never said otherwise." I tapped my fingers against the armrest. "How much?"

The three exchanged looks.

Then the first one spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"...Eight thousand gold."

Faye went pale.

Even I felt my eyebrows twitch.

Eight thousand gold wasn’t ruinous for a duke, I think? I bet the vase I broke last night was more expensive, but for an unlanded noble household?

It’s easy to assume that it would be crushing.

I glanced at Faye. She looked like she was bracing herself for a verdict she’d already accepted long ago.

Right.

That settled it.

I exhaled slowly and stood.

The merchants stiffened again, as if expecting a sentence to be passed.

Instead, I reached into the inner pocket of my coat.

Their eyes followed the motion like hawks.

I pulled out a small, embossed card and placed it gently on the table. It acted like an official stamp or statement to prove that you made a deal with that specific noble.

And even more dramatically, the stamp on the ink would dry out every two weeks or so to ensure it doesn’t get abused.

They’d need to ask for a replacement from time to time if they wanted to continue their deal with me.

How do I know that? Well, it’s simply one of the most absurd pieces of worldbuilding I’ve ever read, so absurd that I still remember reading it even now.

"Transfer the debt," I said. "To House Noctierre."

The silence this time was deafening.

"...Y-Your Grace?" the third merchant croaked.