God of Contracts: Strongest Businessman

Kamer Kingdom, Capital

A young man named Ferran, no older than twelve, moved with a confidence that belied his age. His footsteps echoed through the grand hallways of his mansion, a carefree tune humming on his lips, reflecting the lightness of his heart.

He passed by two maids, their faces breaking into amused smiles as the sound of his humming reached them. "Good morning, young master," they chorused, their voices laced with a hint of playful reverence.

"Good morning," he replied, his smile as bright as the morning sun.

He continued his journey, his feet carrying him towards a room that exuded an air of quiet elegance. It was the dining room, a space that was both chic and humble, its grandeur tempered by a sense of warmth and simplicity.

At the center of the room stood a long rectangular table, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the morning light. A row of chairs, their upholstery a rich shade of mahogany, surrounded the table, inviting guests to partake in the day's first meal.

Seated at the head of the table, engrossed in his phone, was a man named Cedric, who could easily be mistaken for an older version of Ferran. His features were similar, the same sharp jawline, the same piercing blue eyes, the same air of quiet authority.

Cedric was likely reading the morning news, a ritual he never missed a day of. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eyes scanning the headlines with practiced intensity.

Ferran approached the table, his humming fading to a soft murmur. He paused a few feet away from Cedric, his gaze lingering on his father's face.

Cedric looked up, his expression softening as he recognized his son. A warm smile spread across his face, momentarily breaking through the seriousness that usually characterized him.

"Good morning, Ferran," he greeted, his voice as deep and resonant as a cello's notes.

"Good morning, Father," Ferran replied, his voice filled with quiet respect.

"So, how did it go?" Cedric inquired.

"Not really well," his son replied, his voice devoid of the usual disappointment that accompanied such a result. "I failed again."

Cedric's brow furrowed in confusion, his mind struggling to reconcile Ferran's words with the incongruous smile that adorned his lips. "Very well," he conceded, his curiosity piqued by this unusual display of cheer. "But would you care to enlighten me as to the source of this uncharacteristic cheerfulness?" he inquired, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism.

Ferran, typically reserved and serious, exuded an inexplicable joy that belied his usual demeanor. There had to be a compelling reason behind this sudden transformation.

Ferran nodded, his eyes sparkling with an enigmatic glee that seemed to contradict his recent setback. "I just learned of General Marcus's passing," he explained, his voice surprisingly devoid of sorrow, seemingly oblivious to the jarring nature of conveying such news with a smile.

Cedric grappled with the reasoning behind his son's unexpected elation. He couldn't comprehend why Ferran would harbor any animosity towards the Thornes, given their lack of any apparent grudge. Just as he was about to seek further clarification, "Your son is still infatuated," interjected Eleanor, Cedric's wife, who had just entered the room.

Eleanor, a vision of grace and sophistication, commanded attention not through any overt display of authority but through the sheer elegance of her bearing.

"Him?" Cedric asked Eleanor, implicitly questioning her statement. After all, Ferran was one of the most training-oriented heirs in the Kingdom, rarely allowing anything to interfere with his regimen. How many twelve-year-olds could remain focused in a room for an entire week without any distractions? Not many, if any. So how could he have the time or inclination for such things as love?

"It seems you have truly forgotten," Eleanor remarked, now seated at Cedric's right, her tone serious. Her inability to fathom how someone with his abilities could suffer from memory loss perplexed her.

She then reminded him, "Have you forgotten about the silver-haired girl?" when she noticed her husband's genuine lapse in recollection.

"Silver hair? The maid?" Cedric barely took a moment to recall the girl. The uniqueness of her silver hair, a sight seldom encountered made her difficult to forget. He also remembered his son's actions from a few years prior.

A few years ago, Ferran met a silver-haired girl named Lysandra in a library and was immediately captivated by her beauty and elegance. He was so smitten with her that he was reluctant to leave her side. Later, when questioned about his infatuation, he spent minutes describing her beauty and elegance, even in her humble maid's attire.

Determined to pursue Lysandra, Ferran easily discovered that she was a maid of the Thorne household. Undeterred by the social taboo of poaching household employees, he boldly suggested buying her out of her servitude. Although his proposition was met with a blunt refusal, Ferran's resolve remained unshaken.

Leveraging his status as the son of a Count, Ferran began frequenting the Thorne household almost daily. The Thornes, unable to turn away the son of a Count family, reluctantly welcomed him into their home.

However, Ferran's relentless pursuit of Lysandra soon turned into a source of discomfort for the Thorne household. His daily visits, often lasting for nearly eight hours, were seen as excessive and intrusive. Eventually, the Thornes, feeling harassed, lodged a complaint against Ferran.

In most cases, winning such a case against a Count family would be an uphill battle. However, Thorne family's background as a military family provided them with a significant advantage. As long as they adhered to the law, no one in the kingdom could touch them. This privilege, which should theoretically extend to every citizen, was unfortunately reserved for those with sufficient strength or influence.

Ferran was then banned for ever approaching the Thorne residence and seeing that Lysandra never went out again he finally gave up on her. At least that was what Cedric thought but it seems

"Have you not yet relinquished your attachment to her?" Cedric asked, his eyes focused on his son, awaiting his answer.

"Despite my efforts, I have failed to move on from my feelings for her."

Despite being forbidden from approaching the Thorne residence and never seeing Lysandra again, Ferran's feelings for her remained undiminished. He tried to suppress his emotions, even attempting to replace her with other interests, but his efforts proved futile. Immersed himself in rigorous training, Ferran eventually managed to spend days without thinking about Lysandra. However, upon hearing the news of Marcus's passing, a wave of happiness washed over him, as he knew this would provide an opportunity to see Lysandra again at the funeral.

"I recognize your feelings, but I implore you to exercise caution and act in a manner that preserves our family's standing."

Cedric's wife, concerned about the potential damage to their reputation, sternly warned Ferran to refrain from any actions that could bring shame upon their family. She recalled their previous indulgence in allowing Ferran to pursue Lysandra, an indulgence that had nearly led to a public scandal. Fortunately, the Thornes had handled the situation discreetly as their complaint was done privately without spreading the news so few were those who knew about Ferran deeds then saving their reputation.

"I already accepted her rejection and understand that pursuing a relationship with her is futile. My previous actions were immature and I am determined to act responsibly this time. I simply wish to see her again." Ferran, despite his initial infatuation with Lysandra, understood the reality of the situation. He acknowledged her rejection and accepted the futility of pursuing a relationship with her. His childish actions in the past had caused embarrassment and he was determined to act responsibly this time.

"I'm proud of you." Cedric, recognizing his son's maturity, expressed his pride in Ferran's ability to handle the situation with a clear mind. He even saw a positive side to Ferran's crush, believing it was helping his son temper his emotions at an early age.

Cedric recalled his own late-blooming infatuation, a contrast to his son's early and fervent pursuit. The memory of her beauty still lingered in his mind, however Cedric's recollection of his own youthful crush was abruptly cut short by his wife's keen observation.

Eleanor's voice was cold and laced with suspicion as she addressed her husband. "Cedric, you're not entertaining thoughts you shouldn't be, are you?" Her gaze was sharp and penetrating, sending a chill down Cedric's spine.

"N-no, my d-dear," Cedric stammered, his usually composed demeanor faltering under the weight of Eleanor's scrutiny. He could feel her eyes boring into him, probing for any hint of deceit.

"Good," Eleanor replied curtly, her expression softening slightly. Her tone, though still laced with skepticism, held a hint of relief.

"Please bring the food," Cedric instructed a maid standing nearby, eager to change the subject and escape Eleanor's piercing gaze.

"Understood, Master Cedric," the maid replied with a respectful bow before exiting the room.

~Ding~

A notification ding echoed from Cedric's phone, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen, wondering who could be messaging him at such an early hour. This notification was only set up for a select few individuals, so his curiosity was piqued.

As he read the message, a scowl replaced the fleeting relief on Cedric's face. Without a moment's hesitation, he deleted the message and blocked the sender, his anger flaring.

"Who is it?" Eleanor inquired, her curiosity piqued by Cedric's sudden change in demeanor.

"Just an insignificant individual," Cedric replied curtly, his voice still laced with annoyance.