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Chapter 30

Typically, about 10 mr of energy can be extracted from 1 gram of magic stone.

But the young lord Ardel claimed to extract 16 mr of energy per 1 gram of magic stone.

In other words, utilizing this technology would allow for vastly more efficient energy extraction compared to existing methods.

Of course, verification would be necessary—but if this was true, the Viscount's grandson had indeed developed a remarkably impressive technology.

The kind that would make one regret not selecting this business proposal.

However, Herald couldn't immediately say he'd approve it.

Because the first round of selections had already been made, and results had been sent out to the chosen houses.

Just then, Emilia looked at Herald and spoke.

"Is there no contingency budget apart from what's already been allocated?"

The budgets required for different types of projects naturally vary.

So surely, beyond the existing budget, there was also reserve funds that could be used additionally.

"Th-there is."

Herald quickly answered, confirming her guess.

"Then, excluding the ones already accepted, wouldn't it be fine to conduct an additional review of only the rejected ones—including this proposal?"

It would certainly be troublesome, but since there had been an error in the document review, it wouldn't greatly violate fairness.

At Emilia's words, Herald nodded as if entranced.

He asked them to wait a moment and hurried out of the reception room.

As Herald's footsteps faded beyond the door, the Viscount's voice came from beside her.

"Thank you for stepping forward so readily."

"Huh?"

"Thanks to you, my grandson has been given another chance."

"Ah..."

Emilia took a moment to choose her words, then spoke.

"Hmm, I hope you and Herald can make amends as well."

The Viscount hadn't spoken kindly to Herald, either.

Of course, in hindsight, there had been an issue in the review process, but for Herald, allowing the Viscount into the reception room in the first place was a form of goodwill.

After all, there was no reason to receive and explain things to everyone who had been rejected.

"Ahem, understood. I'll be sure to apologize."

At that, Emilia smiled warmly.

---

When Herald returned, he delivered good news to the Viscount.

He would confirm with the young lord Ardel whether the units in the proposal were indeed wr, and if so, his business proposal would be included in the first-round document pass.

Also, as Emilia had suggested, they would re-examine the rejected proposals from other houses to check for any similar errors.

"R-really?"

The Viscount's face lit up like a child's.

He then glanced at Emilia beside him, and though a little embarrassed, he offered his apology to Herald first.

Herald, equally awkward, said it was fine and apologized for the trouble caused by his oversight.

"I've caused a great deal of trouble today. Then I'll be going now."

After seeing off the Viscount with Emilia—

"Miss Emilia, thank you so much for today."

Herald said with sincere gratitude.

"It was nothing, really."

As Emilia waved her hand dismissively, a thought occurred to her and she spoke.

"Ah, by the way, there's something I'd like to discuss regarding the official notices for the business proposals—if you have a moment?"

"Of course!"

Herald readily nodded—

Just then, a clearing of the throat came from beside them.

"Butler?"

Robert had approached without them noticing.

"Are you hungry?"

"Huh?"

At the sudden question, Emilia blinked.

"No, I just ate not long ago..."

"Then I'll prepare some refreshments. Is there any particular dessert you'd like?"

Robert immediately followed up with another question, waiting for her answer.

Puzzled but feeling his persistent gaze, Emilia reluctantly spoke.

"Hmm, then, would it be possible to have the macarons that were served as a snack for Ivan last time?"

They didn't leave sticky residue on your hands and could be eaten in one bite—perfect for snacking while talking.

"Yes, I'll have them prepare twelve flavors."

"Huh? No, that's too much..."

Emilia waved her hands, trying to refuse his excessive order, but Robert had already disappeared toward the kitchen.

What was that?

She tilted her head at his odd behavior.

"Miss Emilia?"

"Ah, yes. Let's go."

At Herald's call, she headed to the study with him.

---

Ahem, ahem.

Walking toward the kitchen, Robert felt a little embarrassed at having done something out of character.

As he entered the kitchen, the chef looked up in surprise.

"Butler? What brings you here?"

"Is there a dessert called 'maka-ron'?"

"Ah, do you mean macarons?"

"Yes, that's it. Could you make some?"

"Master Ivan must need a snack."

But Robert shook his head firmly.

"No."

"Pardon?"

The chef was a bit bewildered.

He couldn't think of anyone else in this residence whom the butler would personally order desserts for, other than Ivan.

"Have we an important guest coming?"

"...Something like that."

"I see. Then I'll have to put in some effort."

"Wait."

Robert stopped the chef, who was rolling up his sleeves.

"Make them in twelve flavors."

"...Pardon? That many?"

To make that many flavors for a single dessert would be as troublesome as making other types of desserts—no, even more so.

In fact, he'd never even made macarons in twelve flavors before.

"Is it difficult?"

"Ah, no."

The chef flinched at the strict butler's gaze and answered.

He must have some truly important guest coming.

The butler was usually strict but never gave unreasonable orders.

In the end, he shook off his reluctance and set about preparing the desserts with a somewhat resolute heart.

Meanwhile, Robert stood straight and recalled the scene he'd witnessed in the reception room.

The woman who had come as a tutor taught the child well enough to shatter any prejudice that a commoner would be lacking.

She also didn't harbor any undue interest in his master, nor did she cause any trouble within the residence.

So Robert had been forming an increasingly favorable impression of her.

But the way she had calmly handled and mediated with the agitated visitor today—

It was as if she were the mistress he had long hoped for...

"Ahem!"

Suddenly catching himself thinking such an absurd word, Robert quickly hardened his expression.

What was I thinking!

He hastily shook off the inappropriate thought.

And stood before the kitchen, waiting for that dessert—macarons, or whatever they were called—to finish baking.

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