Episode 2
Just before the platform completely disappeared into a dot, the figure of a noblewoman, her dress fluttering as she ran, seemed to appear fleetingly.
Of course, even at a glance, it was clear she wasn’t in the neat state she’d been in at the coffeehouse.
She had gone on about her son, and heritage, and such.
It seemed her heritage was as shallow as the thickness of the envelope she threw on the coffeehouse floor.
‘See? I told you, you’d regret it.’
Iris neatly folded the hastily made business card, brushing aside the long hair that fell bothersomely over her face.
The neatly folded card was soon placed into the steaming teacup.
[Investment Expert, Iris Plan]
Watching the letters blur and disappear one by one on the rough paper improved her mood even more.
Her eyes glistened as she looked at the heavy trunk.
Judging by the man’s last lip movements a moment ago, he seemed to be saying something about being a fraud, but it didn’t matter.
Why?
‘Me, Iris Plan.’
The fraudster of fraudsters.
Her targets were always people in the same line of work.
Those two, probably grabbing each other by the collar on the platform right now, were also swindlers who had escaped the system.
They were con artists who had been scammed out of the money they’d embezzled through investment fraud.
“Why do this to me? Why to me, another fraudster?”
When drifting around, committing scams here and there, sometimes fellow con artists would wonder about this, but it wasn’t because of any special reason.
‘An eye for an eye! A tooth for a tooth!’
She just understood this principle of life a little earlier than others.
There was also her mentor’s teaching.
“Conning other con artists carries almost no risk of being reported!”
Honestly, if she could go back, she’d pout and tell him not to talk nonsense, but back then, Iris was young and naïve.
Well, looking back now, there was some truth to it.
Though some con artists were occasionally foolish, none were foolish enough to go report that they had been scammed.
Especially the more vicious ones.
Because the moment they went to report it, the handcuffs would be on them first.
Moreover, the more ruthless the con artist, the more money there was to squeeze out.
Of course, there were also clear downsides.
‘Phew, it took much longer than expected. I guess, since he’s from the same field, he’s quite cautious.’
Being a fraudster himself, he was not easy to trust others, and there was always the risk of things turning against her.
As such, a single con required a lot of time and dedication.
In other words, the income compared to the time and effort spent was too low.
Though the absolute amount was considerable, it wasn’t cost-effective.
‘Ugh! My precious six months!’
Even while lamenting, the scenery outside the window changed rapidly.
Red, yellow, blue.
From houses with single-colored roofs to majestic mansions with many roofs.
‘……There seem to be more houses now.’
Even along the tracks where the train ran, more and more houses were popping up, so why did she have none?
The trunk that had looked heavy until just a moment ago now seemed incredibly light.
‘With this, there’s no way I could buy a house on Haraka Island. I’ll die conning people forever.’
Her good mood plummeted in an instant.
Six years.
That was how long Iris had left until she turned thirty.
It had been six years since she had left her mentor, declaring she would only work until she turned thirty and live the rest of her life with what she earned by then.
……And six years since she had declared that the day the money she earned until thirty ran out would be the day she entered her grave, as her mentor scoffed at her.
Six years since she had been paying off the debt to her mentor every time she earned money…
‘No wonder, I can never seem to save up!’
She still had mountains of debt left.
At this rate, there would be no point in being a con artist!!
‘……No, this won’t do.’
A resolute gleam flashed in Iris’s eyes.
Now was the time when she really needed a big score.
Chapter 1
[The Con Artist Named Iris Plan]
My fourth birthday was the first time my father pinched my cheek.
“Dad… ouch!”
“Father.”
It was also the day I was forbidden from calling him “Dad.”
“From now on, you need to learn refined and cultured language so that you can serve your master well in the future.”
…That was the reason.
From that day on, Dad became Father.
There had never been a mom.
Father was the head butler for a noble family and constantly emphasized that “the honor and pride of the family are the same as that of the master we serve.”
I firmly believed that I would naturally follow in Father’s footsteps and become an excellent head maid.
And so, when I was six, Father began my education to become an honorable and dignified maid.
Of course, before that, he would tell me something every night instead of reading fairy tales.
I didn’t understand a word of it because it was too difficult.
“No matter what hardships or trials come your way, you must never act in a way that tarnishes the honor of our family, Iri. Do you understand?”
But I was different when I turned six!
Even if I didn’t understand, I memorized it all. I wanted to be praised, so I reviewed it every day.
“What’s the most important thing in life?”
“A yoke!”
Father would sternly correct my mistakes.
“Honor.”
“Ah, honor!”
“Say it three more times!”
“Honer! Onnor! Honor!”
“Well done.”
But Father didn’t notice when I got it wrong twice. Only I knew.
Still, I had learned to always be honest, so I confessed that I made two mistakes, and had to endure another hour of Father’s special butler lessons.
I got my cheeks pinched again when I said I wanted to be a maid, not a butler.
Around the time I turned seven, Father’s clothes grew shabbier.
He used to always bring dinner back from the mansion, but around that time, he started bringing home soups full of lumps instead.
Not long after, my education in honor and pride was supplemented with something new.
“I told you not to eat so much and to leave a little bit. How you behave reflects the dignity of the person you serve!”
“Yes, Father!”
From that day on, I ate only a little, and only grew a little.
It was frustrating how slowly I grew, but I endured it. If I grew up properly, I’d be able to serve an excellent master.
Just like the plump chicken from next door last summer that grew up well to become meat for me!
But then…
“…Even though we were abandoned by our master, we must remain honorable and proud. Understand, Iri?”
The master -Father served- sold everything, even the mansion, overnight and ran away.
There was talk about gambling and casinos, but I didn’t understand those words.
Instead, I overheard what Aunt Emma from next door said, that Father hadn’t been paid for a year.
That evening.
Aunt Emma hugged me and said, “It’ll be hard for your father to find other work because he took the blame for the master’s family.”
But that day, Aunt Emma was wrong.
Father came home and told me he had a new job starting that day.
What was it again? Unemployed?
Anyway, even though his job had changed, Father’s lessons continued.
“Iri, noble ladies eat no more than a bird’s portion. Those who serve them should do the same. Shall we start practicing from today?”
“Yes, Father!”
Since that day, I hardly grew at all. I was very hungry too.
Even then, my world was completely filled with Father’s teachings, ingrained in my mind like brainwashing.
What does that mean?
It means I still didn’t know that honor and pride were useless when you’re starving.
“No matter how hungry you are, you must not touch what belongs to others. That would mean losing the honor and pride built up over a lifetime in an instant!”
“But that’s food someone else threw away?”
“You have to check even discarded food! They might come back for it.”
“Then we could give it back when they return, couldn’t we?”
“…Such complacency could put the master you serve in danger.”
“Aha! Yes, I’ll never do that!”
…Looking back now, I should have broken free from that brainwashing much sooner.
Anyway, by the time I was nine, I had finally realized one truth of life:
‘Honor doesn’t fill your stomach!’
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