Chapter 116
Chapter 116
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: The Masquerade Pursuit
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Honestly, I have no idea what the fun is in masquerade balls."
They use magic to alter their appearances so no one recognizes them, then enjoy themselves.
Isn't a person's value first their traits—their talents and abilities—and second their looks?
Those two are definite assets bestowed by the gods.
Bloodline is just the essential baseline, regardless of value.
"Today... you're going for a different reason, aren't you?"
"Well, it's not like I'm going there to have fun."
Gazing into the mirror, Bertvert tapped her fluffy locks with her fingers to add some volume.
"Yeah, going to roast that wastrel."
Which made it all the more regrettable. How much would the magic on the mask ruin her looks?
Bertvert pouted her pale pink lips, then gracefully extended her hand, slipping a slender metal bracelet onto her white, soft wrist.
"Is this the artifact that nullifies perception distortion?"
Shaking her delicate wrist in the light, the girl who had been fussing with Bertvert's hair replied.
"Yes. They said it's inscribed with just enough mana to evade artifact detection. But it breaks after one day of use."
Bertvert idly tapped the bracelet and asked.
"And I've got a rough idea of that wastrel's looks memorized. Any surefire way to distinguish him?"
"We've subtly scented the entire inn with the hydrangea fragrance you like, Lady Bertvert. You'll know as soon as you get close."
'...she says. But she's scattered the scent everywhere, making it hard to pinpoint.'
Just as Bertvert was thinking she might tear that lying mouth apart later.
A faint hydrangea scent wafted from someone passing by.
She spun around reflexively, fiddling with her bracelet, and there he was: a man with black hair and brown eyes appearing as flashy blond with blue eyes.
'Found you.'
That arrogant smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he wasn't sure if he was aware of it himself.
That haughty gaze that seemed to despise the other person down to their soul.
'A nothing wastrel like you.'
Acting like royalty—no, something even greater.
Staring into those insufferably cocky eyes, Bertvert opened her mouth.
"Would you... mind a brief chat?"
Sweetly, innocently.
She was addicted to manipulating others while appearing that way.
Skin so soft it seemed it would leave powder on your touch, lips and cotton-candy hair that would melt on contact.
I know nothing. An eternal child, innocent and untainted by filth.
So go ahead, harbor ill intentions toward me. This is that kind of place.
'But in the end, you'll be in my grasp.'
Bertvert was confident. Even with the perception-distorting mask.
Because she was Bertvert.
"Sure, why not."
See that?
Bertvert inwardly sneered at the face meeting her eyes and smiling.
A wastrel with nothing but the Krueger family's prestige and a halfway decent face.
But right now, he's a meal within my reach.
Bertvert gave a slight smile.
Hiding the predator's claws.
If she could make Adelrian hers, it would be an achievement not far off from seizing Gadia.
"Crowded places make me shy..."
So she'd lure him somewhere quiet, pretend to share a drink laced with sleeping potion, and he'd fall into her hands soon enough.
She placed a trembling hand—excited at the prospect of dragging him to ruin—to her lips, cheeks faintly flushed, and Adelrian laughed.
"I'm the opposite."
Is that guy a pervert?
Bertvert nearly cracked her facade but steadied herself, gazing up with dewy eyes and whispering.
"Then... could we go somewhere a little darker?"
What man could refuse?
"Yeah, no."
That one's no man.
Should she ruin that halfway decent face grinning at her?
Gazing at Adelrian as his fingertips caressed her cheek, Bertvert trembled to suppress her rage.
"Boring."
Boring...
Boring?
You dare, you halfwit. Once I strip you of everything, all that's left is that face—a worthless shell.
You dare lecture me on fun?
Bertvert, consumed by fury and forgetting this was a ballroom, nearly lashed out when—
As if sensing his doom, he turned and walked away, prompting Bertvert to chase after him belatedly.
"W-Wait."
"Persistent people are unattractive, regardless of age or gender."
She grabbed his wrist, but only for a moment.
He shook her off brusquely and strode away almost at a run.
Bertvert learned then that peak rage could leave one dazed instead.
"Pfft... looks like she got shot down."
"Up close, the mask's magic must've failed, revealing an ugly mug?"
Mocking laughter poured down on Bertvert, left standing alone.
She whipped around, and everyone averted their eyes, whispering among themselves.
'I'll... kill them all later.'
Starting with that wastrel Adelrian.
The strict entry by invitation only.
And her own overconfidence.
For those two reasons, Bertvert regretted not planting more church members in the ballroom.
'Damn, where'd he go?'
He was faster than he looked. By the time Bertvert recovered from the shock and urged the few church members present to search anew, no sign of blond—or magically altered black—hair anywhere.
Not the physically sturdy type, she wandered until her breath came ragged to her chin.
'When I catch him, right there! No, wait.'
Thinking of the humiliation she'd suffered, killing him outright wouldn't balance the scales.
Bertvert ground her teeth, scanning around, when—
Adelrian crossed the garden in hasty strides, perhaps heading for a carriage.
"Hah, hey! Let's talk."
The moment the frantic Bertvert seized his wrist, those arrogant eyes darkened.
"What about?"
She masked her murderous intent with a smile, but Adelrian spoke again.
"Surely there's other talk for a place like this?"
"Somewhere just the two of us."
So she could drag him off forcibly and make him taste suffering worse than death.
Sinister intent slithered from the corners of her eyes.
And as if sensing it—
Adelrian gave no verbal reply, simply shook off her hand and bolted.
'That bastard?'
"W-Wait!"
Did he leave his manners at the inn? How rude to a lady pleading like this!
Bertvert gawked in disbelief before grinding her molars and giving chase, only for him to vanish around a garden corner like a maze.
"You... you damned bastard!"
In the end, rage-overcome Bertvert couldn't hold back and screamed.
* * *
"I actually believed nothing would happen."
"Wipe your mouth first."
Having contacted Luna via Siren to link up, they met at a small plaza a bit further inside from the outskirts.
Luna, Rip, and Rachel must've been picnicking there.
They'd waited on a bench by the tiny fountain, munching lunchboxes leisurely enough that I knew they weren't worried.
"Tasty?"
"Want some?"
Zero might head straight to the inn or follow our trail to join us here.
Come to think of it, we hadn't decided.
"The young master's and Kane's portions are here."
—Here's some juice too, Manager.
"Thanks."
Might as well wait for Zero with a midnight snack. I sat and took a big bite of the egg-tomato sandwich Luna offered.
The tomato was lightly blanched, skinless so it wouldn't catch on the tongue, stir-fried with basil for a non-slimy texture, while the egg was soft and moist like perfect scrambled.
'Bread toasted in butter?'
Even without special sauce, the reduced tomato-basil mix had perfect seasoning with a touch of tartness. Damn, this is good.
"Good, right?"
I took another big bite without a word, and for some reason Rachel asked proudly.
"You make it?"
"Nope! Zero did!"
Then why are you beaming?
I chuckled, handing my share to Kane—who'd polished off his two pieces fast since it suited his taste—when footsteps echoed from a nearby alley.
"That's too much."
"You're here?"
In this situation with Zero protesting being left behind, saying 'Hey, your sandwich was good' would just make him grumble more.
I started walking toward the inn, repeating 'Yeah, my bad' to aid digestion.
"How was the ball? Fun?"
"Not at all. My body's soaked in that perfume; I just want a shower, Junior Rachel."
Rachel, curious about what happened inside, linked arms with Zero as they walked. Kane walked with Rip, manifesting their auras as tiny figures sparring in midair.
Luna sidled up to me, sniffing near my shoulder.
"I smell like perfume too?"
The mansion was thick with cloying sweetness from the moment we entered. Intentionally so.
So it clung to me, Kane, and Zero too.
"A unpleasant perfumey smell mixed with a floral scent."
"Lily?"
I asked, thinking of Paiyan, but Luna slowly shook her head.
"Actually, not just the young master—it's coming from all of us. Probably..."
"We know the Church reached into the inn, so yeah, them?"
Despite Luna, Zero, and Rip meticulously cleaning and incinerating our hair etc., we'd had fake doubles from doppelganger potions show up.
Rather than assuming someone picked up naturally shed hair outside, it made more sense they collected what we'd dropped around the inn.
Plus constant knocking visitors; we'd told the inn once, but they couldn't do much.
Moving elsewhere wouldn't help. Capital made renting a house tricky anyway.
"Hydrangea... yeah, like hydrangea. But..."
Luna pondered, then tilted her head as if realizing the scent on me, sniffing her own sleeve.
"Stronger than the fragrance clinging to us."
That reminded me of Bertvert.
"Oh, a Church member got close."
Grabbed my wrist, pressed against me—so it must've rubbed off then.
Feeling sticky, I brushed my clothes and arms, and Luna smiled faintly.
"What'd they look like?"
Might as well note it down.
I pulled memo paper and quill from sub-space, jotting in Hangul for my eyes only, and said.
"Brown fluffy hair, brown eyes, height about this."
I approximated with my hand palm-up, and Luna stood under it, comparing to her height.
A bit taller than Luna, yeah.
"Girl, so not that tall."
"Ah."
Chatting idly, we'd nearly reached the inn before I knew it.
Kane picked up the memo I'd dropped absentmindedly, our eyes meeting.
"Not a common script. What is it?"
"Why, what's up?"
Rachel snatched it from Kane, humming and stroking her chin.
"Not fairy script or mage script."
"Give it."
Of course not. I snatched back the memo with Bertvert's description and traits in Hangul.
"Your own script?"
I tossed it back into sub-space with the quill as Kane asked.
Not mine, but the only one using it on this continent.
"Kinda."
Sorry, King Sejong. Can't mention you here, so this was unavoidable.
Brushing it off, Kane quirked his lip ever so slightly.
"Then teach me when you have time. A script just for us could come in handy later."
Kane volunteering an idea? Rare.
Entering the inn room, I let out a low breath and replied lightly.
"Sure, why not."