"Your Highness, we might be a bit short-handed," Sileus said.

Liya and Lekui had their hands full—cleaning the mansion, laundry, cooking, daily chores, and now distilling spirits at the workshop. Even workhorses in the fields weren’t pushed this hard. Those who knew they were Dragonfolk understood; others might mistake them for some "cattle-and-horse tribe."

Miss Christia had already noticed. After a moment’s thought, she replied coolly, "But I don’t want outsiders in our home."

Sileus paused, then smiled like a doting father.

"What’s that look for?" Kestia frowned.

"I never said *he* was one of us," she stated flatly.

Sileus nodded with a chuckle. "Understood, Your Highness. In that case, I suggest Liya and Lekui push through temporarily to produce an initial batch and break into the market."

Kestia gave a slight nod. "No need for large quantities. Humans have a saying: rarity increases value."

"Understood."

Sileus left to make arrangements.

Upon hearing their new workload, Liya and Lekui voiced no complaints. Instead, they worked with renewed vigor, laboring nearly day and night. Lanche watched, dumbfounded. *Thank the stars they’re not ordinary maids,* he thought, *or they’d drop dead from exhaustion.* He sighed, shook his head, and returned to sipping tea under the sun.

Thanks to the maids’ relentless efforts, the Claire Family finally held their first product debut—a wine tasting gala.

Invitations went to nearly every noble family, and merchants even petitioned to attend. The reason? The invitation’s promise: "A revolutionary malt liquor and a revolutionary grape wine." Naturally, the Bolnors Family, as relatives by marriage, received their share.

Count Gorde arrived personally with his two sons and daughter. The moment they entered, they heard gasps and raves echoing through the hall. Guests held up pale golden drinks, praising them endlessly.

"Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! I’ve never tasted malt liquor so pure—it’s like bottled sunlight!"

"Only eight months since their wedding, and the Claires are stealing the spotlight again. Frightening."

"What I want to know is *how*. They don’t even own a distillery—just partnered with merchants. Who’s supplying this?" Merchants frowned, puzzled.

Gorde was stunned. The crowd was so engrossed, they hadn’t even noticed a count’s arrival.

Sileus spotted him immediately, beaming as he approached with a glass. "Count Gorde, please sample our new malt liquor."

"New malt liquor?" Gorde took the pale drink, swirled it, and admired its clarity. It looked utterly drinkable.

"Yes. We call it ‘New Malt’—simple and memorable," Sileus smiled.

"Simple names spread fastest," Gorde agreed. He took a sip and praised it instantly.

Other nobles soon gathered around.

"Viscount Clarein, is this another ‘new magic’ from your family?" one joked.

"Haha! ‘New Magic’ malt liquor—clever, Viscount Pokeman!" Laughter erupted.

Sileus chatted warmly with them.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement—all thanks to the liquor’s triumph.

Lanche’s older brothers, Boznia and Frier, ignored the crowd. Upon arrival, their eyes scanned the room for Miss Christia. Since the wedding, they’d been obsessed; no noble lady at their academy matched her grace.

Finally, their gazes locked onto Kestia—impeccable as frost-kissed jade—chatting lightly with Lanche beside her.

"That worthless scum!" Both brothers burned with envy.

Their sister Gynia sighed. She understood. Even she hadn’t expected Lanche to marry into such wealth and beauty.

Just then, Lanche and Kestia parted ways.

Lanche had zero interest in hosting. After firm insistence, he’d convinced Kestia to let him slip away alone to the balcony, where he could sip tea and watch the moon.

Kestia had wanted to credit him for the liquor’s success, but he’d refused. *Fine,* she thought coldly. *Let them call him a good-for-nothing—he chose this himself.*

Slightly displeased, she turned to greet female guests in the hall.

Boznia and Frier seized their chance, striding toward Kestia while Gynia headed for Lanche, uninterested in her rival.

Boznia beamed; Frier, more reserved, offered a tight smile and nod.

The noblewomen nearby exchanged uneasy glances. Kestia was married—these young men’s eagerness bordered on improper.

Yet everyone understood why.

Kestia gave a cool nod. "Greetings. Enjoy the wine tonight."

"Oh, absolutely! It’s exquisite," Boznia gushed—though neither brother had tasted a drop.

"And our brother? Where is he?" Boznia asked pointedly.

"On the balcony," Kestia replied evenly.

"Hmph. As your husband, how dare he hide there alone? Disgraceful," Boznia scoffed.

"Indeed. The Bolnors raised him better. I hope he doesn’t shame our name," Frier added, frowning.

Onlookers instantly sensed the attack. Noblewomen clustered nearby, pretending to chat while watching eagerly. Gossip was their favorite pastime.

"Miss Christia must be disappointed in our brother too. Forgive him—he has no talent, never attended academy. His upbringing was... lacking," Boznia said with false sympathy.

"No matter," Kestia replied calmly.

"Eh...?" The brothers faltered, thrown off rhythm. *No matter? He’s a waste of space!*

But they couldn’t say that. Instead, they sighed. "You’re too kind, Miss Christia. Our family has four unmarried sons besides our eldest brothers... yet you chose *him*."

"I chose him myself. And as an adopted son-in-law, he’s Claire Family now," Kestia stated flatly.

"Ah... hahaha, yes, adopted..."

They longed to say *we’d marry you too*, but voicing it here would be humiliating.

"No need to worry. We get along well. It won’t strain family ties," Kestia said coolly, hoping to crush their unsavory notions.

Even if she disliked Lanche, she’d never want *them*.

"R-right... of course..." The brothers met a cold reception, forced to laugh awkwardly like clowns.