Chapter 35
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 35
The hand on her shoulder slid down her arm. He gave the back of her hand—clutching her bag—a firm squeeze before letting go.
“Stay strong.”
“……”
Abel, who had already started walking, glanced back at her as if to ask what she was doing. Seo-ah hurried out of the shop to follow him, then risked a look over her shoulder. The owner was nowhere to be seen.
The market was a maze.
The paths grew wider the farther they went, but the crowds swelled to match.
How long had she been trailing after Abel?
A space, too small to be called a square but still relatively open, appeared without warning. Experience told her that a cathedral was likely to be in a place like this. As she scanned her surroundings, a small voice suddenly called out.
“Excuse me.”
She glanced down without thinking and saw a child with dark skin and golden eyes. The child staggered as the heedless crowd bumped past. Seo-ah reflexively reached out to steady them.
Worried she would lose Abel, she looked up just as something was thrust into her hand.
It was a single, dark red flower.
She stood there, wondering what it meant, and saw the child grin at her from behind the blossom.
“Thank you.”
“Hm?”
“One thousand Kerte.”
“Huh?”
“Just one thousand Kerte, please!”
“Wait, no. I don’t need a flower.”
She tried to give it back, but the child was adamant.
“Just one thousand Kerte, please!”
Abel was getting farther away, and the child wouldn’t leave her side. In the end, her mistake was hastily pulling a thousand Kerte from her bag.
“!”
In an instant, she was swarmed by children.
And not just children. Young women holding babies, old men, a slightly older child holding another—Outsiders flocked to her, holding out dark red flowers and pleading.
“Buy mine, too.”
“Miss, mine too.”
She had to get away quickly.
But those golden eyes, those faces… they were so much like the woman who had led her to the shop just a moment ago.
The expression of someone dropped into the world all alone, the posture of a person with no choice but to beg—it was all too familiar.
“Miss, please, won’t you just buy one?”
And so, she who had once known no other way but to beg found she could not easily shake off their pleading hands.
*
Around that time, Abel Sting, who had walked on ahead, not wanting to see another hair on the target’s head, scowled deeply at a sudden hand signal from the Backup Team and turned around.
What now? What is it…
“Seriously, what is she doing?”
There she was, surrounded by nomads, buying flowers. Hearing the news, more nomads were flocking to the woman like iron to a magnet, and the backup agents were in a panic.
Go! Get going, Abel Sting!
Move! Move, you bastard!
Abel shot a middle finger at the agent closest to him, who was gesturing wildly, then ambled slowly toward the Outsider, who seemed so clueless about the ways of the world it was almost unbelievable.
In that short time, she had bought so many flowers she could no longer hold them and was now cradling them in her arms.
How pretty. So pretty.
Like a single white lily stuck among dark red roses.
He wasn’t even angry anymore.
“Hey.”
His voice, strained to its limit, shot like an arrow into the ears of the Outsiders.
“……”
“……”
Was not the life of every Outsider a continuous lesson in reading the room?
The moment the wandering nomads saw Abel, they scattered as if on cue. They moved so fast, it was over in the blink of an eye.
All that remained on the dirty street was the Outsider, who could go nowhere, and her pile of flowers.
Seeing her left all alone like that made him even more dumbfounded.
So there really is someone who’d pay money for this stuff. But why am I the one stuck dealing with someone like this?
The situation was so absurd that he found himself laughing instead.
“You actually paid for those?”
Fuck, to hell with seduction and all that bullshit.
“Why? Did you get them for me?”
The white lily, wedged cluelessly between the roses, widened her eyes.
“What a shame. I absolutely despise them. You want me to get cursed with whatever bad luck comes with those?”
“…Bad luck?”
“You didn’t know?”
Ah, so she didn’t.
But even if she didn’t, couldn’t she get a feel for it just by looking? Isn’t it obvious that there’s a reason no one buys them?
“They’re all stolen from the public cemetery.”
“What?”
“You don’t know what a public cemetery is? A graveyard. Tombs.”
The Outsider’s eyes, which had been slowly wearing Abel Sting down for the past week, grew so wide it seemed they would pop out. Her pale face turned a deathly blue.
Seeing her like that, the heavy stone that had been lodged in his chest finally seemed to drop.
“They swipe every last one of them from offerings left for the dead.”
And you, knowing nothing, bought this many.
See? If you had just stuck with me and gone to nice places from the start, would you be in this mess?
Of all the wretched, nightmarish moments of the past week, this one was by far the most entertaining.
The Gold Digger smiled grimly, and the face of the Outsider holding the flowers crumpled as if she were about to cry.
Meanwhile, from a distance, one of the backup agents watching the scene muttered to himself.
“Looks like Abel Sting has completely given up.”
The entire team nodded in unison.
It certainly seemed so.
Abel, who had been wasting away for the past week, was like someone who, after starving himself, had finally begun to binge. He was spewing a torrent of well-packaged words at the target, telling her she was screwed and that all sorts of bad luck would now befall her.
“My, my, you didn’t know they get the flowers from the cemetery?”
“Tsk, tsk, she looks like she wouldn’t know. But miss, where are you from?”
When a few nosy merchants chimed in, the target’s face, cradling an armful of flowers, turned as ashen as a corpse freshly buried in a graveyard.
*
Vies, the capital of Luxen.
As the center of Norfolk trade, land in Vies had always been expensive. And in a city famous for its high property values, the most coveted area was upstream of the Rotten River, where the mansions of the royal and noble families who had ruled Norfolk for generations were lined up. The Reinhardt Marquisate was a prime example.
Currently, there was another noble family in Vies that was nearly as famous as the Marquisate: the House of Count Jerome.
Night had fallen.
Uniformed servants bustled through the count’s residence, their feet a blur of motion.
Today was a very special day. It was the birthday party of Sabine von Jerome, Count Jerome’s only daughter and King Leopold’s fiancée.
Even before sunset, famous figures whose names alone were recognizable had begun arriving one by one at the count’s residence.
Sabine’s guests were a truly diverse assembly.
“Your Highness! My goodness, you actually came!”
“I said I would, didn’t I? It’s not so far from Pelfe.”
“Don’t make me cry. I put so much effort into my makeup today; I can’t afford to ruin it.”
From minor royalty from nearby Pelfe.
“Sabine, a very happy birthday to you.”
“Duchess of Elos, thank you so much for coming. My mother is in the hall.”
“Yes, yes. By the way, this will be the last year I can call you by your name like this, won’t it?”
“Please don’t say that. You can always call me by my name.”
“How could I, once you become Her Majesty the Queen?”
Even a grand dame of the Luxen royal court attended her party.
Not only that, but famous figures from the arts—the most popular dancers, opera singers, painters, and pianists of the day—were also invited.
“Thank you so much for this invitation.”
“I’m the one who’s grateful you could come. I’ve prepared a place for you over there, so please relax and enjoy yourselves.”
Sabine smiled a socialite’s smile and gestured to a corner of the hall.
As the invited artists disappeared with a servant, a noble lady fanned herself languidly and praised Sabine.
“I heard that painters and musicians are clamoring for the Jerome family’s patronage these days. So it was your doing, Young Lady?”
“Especially Dante, whom you recently sponsored. His paintings are, how should I put it, so peculiar that I didn’t know what to make of them at first, but the more I looked, the more captivating they became. I bought one myself recently.”
Sabine smiled shyly and led her guests on.
“You know how I’ve always liked unusual things.”
“Not everything unusual is good. It’s your excellent eye that chose well, Young Lady.”
“Thank you, my lady. You should hang Dante’s painting in your study. It’s a work that’s good for contemplation. I even had one hung in His Majesty’s study.”
“A piece that hangs in His Majesty’s study? I must put mine in my study at once.”
Sabine von Jerome was the rising star of Luxen’s high society.
It was only natural. She was the King’s fiancée and the only daughter of Count Jerome.
But that wasn’t all.
Sabine walked over to a woman watching her from a distance and affectionately linked arms with her.
“To be honest, it wasn’t me, but my mother who has the eye for it. She was the one who sponsored Dante and had his painting hung in His Majesty’s study.”
At that, her mother, Charlotte, who was gazing at her beloved daughter, said, “Sabine, dear, enough with the modesty.”
The mother and daughter were like a painting.
The biggest reason Sabine could become the star of high society was her mother.
The woman lauded as the most beautiful in East Norfolk, a possessor of unparalleled taste, the center of the latest trends, and the queen of high society.
“Marchioness, I’m so envious. How could you have a daughter who is not only so beautiful but also so brilliant?”
Charlotte von Reinhardt smiled.
In response, the smile of her masterpiece, Sabine, deepened. As the mother and daughter, with their luscious blonde hair and amethyst eyes, smiled at each other, it felt as if the entire room brightened.
But Sabine was not Charlotte’s only masterpiece.
“And is it only her daughter? What about her son?”
The true masterpiece was someone else entirely.
“Speaking of Oscar, Mother, I’m so disappointed in him.”
As Sabine spoke in a whining tone, Charlotte stroked her daughter’s cheek.
“Don’t say that. Don’t you know how busy your brother is?”
Oscar von Reinhardt.