A single day had passed since Jasper's father, Kenan, had been laid to rest. The mansion, once bustling with life, now felt hollow, its halls echoing with the weight of loss. Jasper, barely able to drag himself out of bed, moved like a shadow through the house. His legs trembled with every step, as though the grief had physically chained him.

  Then, a knock at the door.

  Two visitors arrived, demanding to speak with the mansion's owner. The head butler, Cuthbert, ushered them into the guest room without hesitation. Why? Because one of them was Ferdinand, Kenan's longtime friend and business ally. Ferdinand had always been there for Kenan, offering help in both business and personal matters.

  Cuthbert hurried to inform Jasper of the visitors, then busied himself preparing tea.

  Jasper descended the stairs slowly, leaning heavily on the handrail. His eyes were swollen from crying, and his legs shook beneath him. He tried to compose himself before entering the room, but his appearance was unsettling—pitiful yet terrifying. The guests couldn't help but shiver as he walked in.

  "Hello, Uncle Ferdinand," Jasper said, his voice soft but steady.

  "Ah, yes, hello, Jasper," Ferdinand replied, his tone tinged with regret. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here before Kenan passed. My condolences."

  "Thank you," Jasper said, forcing a polite smile. "I appreciate your presence, especially since you're such a busy man."

  "It's my duty to be here," Ferdinand said, his expression growing serious. "Listen, Jasper, I know you're grieving, but you need to be strong. While you're in this state, merchants and nobles are already plotting to take over your father's business. They'll come here tomorrow with fake contracts, demanding you sign them or give up everything. Either way, they plan to leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back."

  Jasper fell silent, his mind racing. Something about Ferdinand's words felt off. After a moment, he spoke.

  "Uncle, it's not easy to fake a contract. I may be young, but I've read enough to know how these things work. And I'm the son of a great merchant. I'm not entirely clueless."

  Ferdinand smirked, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. He gestured to the man behind him, who moved to guard the door.

  "I admire your intelligence, Jasper. You're shrewd for a 14-year-old. But you're underestimating the situation. You're up against high-ranking nobles and a traitor within your own home—someone who could steal your father's seal and use it against you."

  Jasper stared at Ferdinand, his gaze piercing. The longer he looked, the more uncomfortable Ferdinand seemed. Jasper wondered: Is he guilty, or is it just my appearance that unnerves him? Should I trust him?

  Finally, Jasper sighed. "So, what's your plan, Uncle?"

  "My plan is simple: trust. Give me control of your father's business for the next four or five years. Once you're older and capable, I'll hand it back to you."

  Jasper's eyes narrowed as he studied Ferdinand. The man's sharp features, curled mustache, and pointed beard gave him the look of a cunning merchant—or a scheming noble. Jasper closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

  "Uncle, do you know what I'm thinking right now?"

  "What?"

  "That this is like a grown man trying to steal candy from a child. The scale is just unimaginably different. Only a fool would take your words at face value."

  Ferdinand winced. "That hurts, Jasper. I know my proposal sounds suspicious, but that's why I said it's about trust."

  "Trust takes time to build," Jasper countered. "And even then, I'd need some guarantee that you won't betray me."

  "Your father would have trusted me without hesitation."

  "No," Jasper said firmly. "My father trusted no one but himself to manage his business. I'm not my father, but I know my life is at risk. He warned me about that."

  Ferdinand leaned forward, his expression earnest. "So, are you agreeing?"

  "Yes."

  "Without a guarantee?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. But if you betray me, I'll make sure you regret it."

  "Don't worry," Ferdinand said, smiling. "I know my limits. Now, sign here, and trust me."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  As Jasper signed the contract, he glanced up at Ferdinand, his expression unreadable.

  "Just so you know, I'm capable of managing my father's business on my own. I don't need help. But I don't know how dangerous it is to go up against nobles and other merchants. I'm afraid they'll kill me for no reason. I just hope you're as trustworthy as you claim. Either way, I'll stand on my own feet, even if you betray me."

  The moment the ink dried, Ferdinand's tone turned mocking.

  "Thanks for your trust, little Jasper. Just make sure your legs aren't shaking when you try to stand on your own."

  Jasper smirked. "Thanks for the advice. And thanks for distracting me from my father's death."

  "My pleasure," Ferdinand said, his voice loud and triumphant. "Just be sure to leave my house in two weeks. I'll be staying here after dealing with some matters."

  "No worries, just be sure to take the deed before leaving you seem to forget about it out of excitement."

  "How thoughtful little jasper."

  The contract transferred all of Kenan's property to Ferdinand. Jasper left the room, his smile sending a chill down Ferdinand's spine. Outside, he found Cuthbert arguing with the man who had guarded the door.

  "Young master, are you okay? This man wouldn't let me in. He threatened me with his sword!"

  Jasper's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not your young master anymore, Cuthbert. Please take care of the mansion and the servants. My stupidity cost me everything my father built. I'll be leaving in one or two weeks."

  "What do you mean, young master?"

  Jasper didn't answer. He simply walked upstairs to his chamber, leaving Cuthbert bewildered.

  The next day, a group of merchants arrived, waving contracts that claimed they were obligated to take over Kenan's business since his son was too young to manage it. They demanded Jasper's signature.

  Jasper glared at them. "You're all the same—vultures feeding on others' suffering. I have nothing left to give you. If you want anything, go talk to Ferdinand. He took everything from me."

  The merchants' eyes widened in shock. "What?! That snake Ferdinand tricked us! He delayed us by a day so he could trade the business to Grand Duke Roland for a noble title and his daughter's hand! Let's go after him!"

  As the merchants stormed out, Jasper sat alone, piecing together the truth.

  'So that's why Ferdinand gave me two days. He wanted me to stay here while he made his move. 'Trust,' huh? Either way, I couldn't have held onto my father's wealth. It was too much for me to handle, and the nobles would have killed me for it. By giving it up, I saved my life, even if it makes me look awfully foolish, I don't care. I look awful anyway; being stupid won't change that. It's time to stop hiding and face life head-on. I'll hide my face, start my journey, and show them all how an ugly merchant fights back. It'll take time, but I'll make sure they regret crossing me. Just to be clear, I am still trusting Ferdinand, even though he appears to be a trickster.'

  A few hours later, the quiet of the mansion was shattered by the arrival of unwelcome visitors. They stood at the gates, demanding to see Jasper. Now stripped of his title as the mansion’s owner, Jasper couldn’t command the servants to usher them inside. Reluctantly, he stepped out to face them.

  The men were armed, their swords glinting in the sunlight, and their postures radiated arrogance. Jasper studied them carefully, noting their hostile tone and the way they carried themselves—like predators circling their prey.

  "Take off your hood!" one of them barked, dispensing with any semblance of courtesy.

  Jasper hesitated. "I don’t think you’ll appreciate what you see if I do."

  "Shut up and comply," the man snapped, his voice sharp and impatient.

  Confused by their hostility, Jasper reluctantly removed his hood. The reaction was immediate. One of the knights’ horses reared up, neighing wildly, while the men themselves struggled to hide their fear. Their trembling hands betrayed them, though they tried to maintain their composure.

  "Yeah, he’s the one," one of the knights said, his voice tinged with disgust. "Come with us, you monster."

  "Where to?" Jasper asked, his voice steady despite the tension.

  "That’s none of your business. Get on the horse, or we’ll drag you like a slave."

  Realizing arguing was pointless, Jasper complied. They led him to a nearby city, where they were met by a man of obvious high status—Baron Buck.

  "Baron Buck," one of the knights announced, "this is the son of Kenan. He claims Ferdinand tricked him into giving up all his property."

  The Baron eyed Jasper with a cold, calculating gaze. After a moment, he turned away and issued a chilling order.

  "Beat him until he confesses what really happened."

  Jasper spoke up quickly. "There’s no need for that. I already told your knights the truth—Ferdinand tricked me into giving up my inheritance because my life was at risk."

  The Baron raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mockery. "Oh ho? And how, exactly, is your life in danger? Enlighten me."

  Jasper took a deep breath. "Ferdinand said my father’s business was targeted by powerful figures. If I didn’t give up my inheritance, I’d be killed."

  The Baron chuckled darkly. "Hmm, that’s a convenient excuse. Knights! Beat him! Let’s see how many punches it takes for him to change his story. I’m sure he’s working with Ferdinand."

  Fear gripped Jasper, but his expression remained stoic. He knew no amount of reasoning would sway these men. The knights descended on him, their fists relentless. Each blow left him more battered than the last, but Jasper refused to change his story. He repeated the same words until the pain overwhelmed him, and he fell unconscious.

  When the knights finally stopped, the Baron was furious but powerless. He had watched Jasper plead for mercy without confessing to anything.

  "That cunning Ferdinand," the Baron muttered, his voice seething with anger. "We’ve been played right into his hands."

  "Master, what should we do with the boy?" one of the knights asked.

  "Throw that monster outside," the Baron said dismissively. "He’s useless now. Giving up all that wealth for free—how stupid can he be?"

  Hours later, Jasper awoke in front of the Baron’s mansion, his body aching from head to toe. A guard stood over him, his voice harsh.

  "You, cursed thing! If you’re alive, get out of here. If the Baron sees you again, you’re dead."

  Groaning, Jasper pushed himself to his feet. His body felt heavier than ever, but he forced himself to move. He stumbled toward his secret hideout, his mind replaying the events of the day.

  Instead of crying, Jasper laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. Tears streamed down his face as he muttered to himself, "Yeah, I’m alive. What a miserable life to live. But I’ll survive. I’ll make it back. And I’ll show you all how Jasper, the son of Kenan, deals with you all."