Chapter 131
Chapter 131
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: The Man with the Wine Scent
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"Still don't know who it was?"
Clang!
The gold goblet didn't even make it near the wall before dropping at the man's feet.
Shahad's aide watched as his frail master gasped for breath after failing to throw the cup that far, then approached and offered a towel.
"No, we have the list! So why can't you find him!"
"That night, there were thirty-one men total. None of them wore a cologne with a wine scent. Not many used cologne to begin with, and most people had gathered on the terrace for the fireworks in the latter half..."
Shahad snatched the towel and shoved the aide's hand away, glaring at him with blazing eyes.
"Then just find the one who wasn't there!"
"Everyone was caught up in the spectacle, and with so many people, no one remembers even after asking around."
"Damn it."
Shahad wiped the cold sweat from his nape with the towel, grinding his teeth.
The killing intent had been so subtle that it froze him in terror, yet none of his elite guards had sensed it.
Which meant that in the moment he himself had been in mortal danger, no one else had any idea.
That made him even angrier. This wretched body of his couldn't even protect itself at the very last second.
"...Fine. Never mind that. What about the other matter I mentioned?"
"I've quietly brought in the sorcerer and the priest of the Mirror God."
Shahad tossed the sweat-soaked towel aside carelessly and ran a hand through his reddish-gold hair.
"...No slip-ups, right?"
"They were brought in without anyone knowing, so even they don't know whose orders they're following."
Shahad let out a sigh.
If that damnable guy was right and there really was a seal on his body, then it had to be the work of someone inside the imperial family.
Someone bold enough to tamper with an imperial's body, and skilled enough not to have been caught yet—it would be dangerous just for Shahad to realize the seal existed and start acting on it.
'It's probably just bullshit to manipulate me.'
But there was that one possibility, and he couldn't just let it slide. Muttering that as his reason, Shahad roughly rubbed his face with his palm and replayed the memory.
He'd been pleasantly buzzed from the wine, relaxed and languid, when suddenly—like a frog before a snake—unreasoning terror had paralyzed him.
Assassin? he'd thought, and in that overwhelming fear, what bubbled up was the ridiculous notion that any killer targeting him had to be an idiot, and at the same time...
'Hatred for my own weakness.'
The traits he was born with were just frailty and a sensitive personality. As an imperial bound to the palace, even the rumored golden luck hadn't manifested.
But what if these pathetic traits of his were fake?
"You really are a fool. To think you never realized your talents were chained until now..."
The man who approached after his body stiffened.
He couldn't turn his head to see the face, but the guy reeked strongly of wine.
'Build similar to mine, maybe a bit bigger. Voice is a mid-bass.'
And the arrogance he could feel even through his skin.
The attitude that didn't yield an inch to an imperial, treating him as beneath him.
'Definitely not low nobility.'
"If we piece together everything you've said about him... well, the highest-ranking one among them would be Adelian, the young heir of the Kruger family."
"Ha, that wastrel? Exclude him; it couldn't have been that wastrel."
Thanks to Adelian's eccentricities matching his own abysmal traits, Shahad already knew all about him.
A more hopeless piece of trash than himself.
A wastrel with nothing but his family's money and no sense of his place.
So there was no way it was Adelian.
"A foreign noble sneaking in makes more sense."
Yeah, that fit better. Piecing together what was known, Adelian had the most useless talents and personality in the entire empire.
'No talent, no effort, no grit.'
Shahad's reddish-gold eyes grew icy.
"I'll meet the sorcerer and the priest. I won't rest easy until I've confirmed this nagging doubt."
"Yes."
With his aide's support, Shahad slowly rose to his feet.
If there really was a sealed talent. If he truly possessed such a thing.
'I'd sell my soul to the devil himself.'
Shahad clenched his teeth and murmured softly.
* * *
"Mmm, hehe."
After her shower, Verbut rolled around on the bed in just a robe, humming to herself, when the girl in academy uniform brought a towel and spoke up.
"You're in a good mood, Lady Verbut."
"You should have seen his face."
Verbut rubbed her soaked hair against the bed, then let the girl guide her to sit and towel it dry while hugging her knees and resting her chin on them.
"Kuku."
The face that had been clenched in empty arrogance had softened ever so slightly with another emotion.
Thinking of Adelian, Verbut twisted her lips into a grin.
"He's definitely fallen for me."
"I knew it. No one can resist Lady Verbut."
As the girl chimed in carefully, Verbut let her voice drip with sweetness.
"Right? Except for Gadia."
That one was a blunder.
One of Verbut's rare failures. Her brow furrowed at the thought of Gadia, but she quickly flashed a bright smile again.
"Instead, I'll have Gadia's little sister in the palm of my hand. Wouldn't that be delightful revenge? Who knows—maybe shaking the sister will make Gadia submit to me too."
They didn't seem that close, but it didn't matter.
Just scratching that icy flower atop its lofty cliff would be pleasure enough.
"She has to pay for rejecting the embrace of the Holy Maiden."
It would have been so much nicer if she'd crumbled gracefully. When everyone was condemning and cursing her, if she'd hit rock bottom and clung to Verbut for support.
Then entered the church's fold as one of her collectibles, forever the mother to the strong—that would have made everyone happy.
"I can't wait to see how much she'll regret it when that day comes."
That's why she was toying with Adelian.
"Plenty of women will flock to his money and looks, so approaching like an inevitable coincidence should work perfectly, right?"
Where to stage the next encounter? Bump into him around a street corner? Or reach for the same item at his favorite shop and let their hands brush?
"Which do you think would be better?"
She'd play the good girl until Adelian saw her as someone precious enough to give everything for.
"It'll be fun. So much fun."
"How about this for next time? Give the incompetent one his one and only pride."
Verbut giggled as the girl's whispering breath tickled her.
* * *
"Everything must have felt itchy to them, huh? They called us barbaric southern hicks."
"Fair enough—parties with open arenas like this are pretty rare."
Southern Fleet Admiral's heir, Arman, smirked as he looked down at the circular arena.
The duel had just started, and with no aura users yet, two commoners were growling and trading punches.
"They get prizes for every win, so they're pretty serious about it."
"The fighters put up the prizes, and the nobles they brought bet money on the winners—good for everyone."
"Number one, win! I bet on you!"
"Bet on two! That one's my slave—know how tough he is?"
The rowdy, savage southern hicks who couldn't tell sea salt from blood were hosting an arena, and the capital's fools were lapping it up.
Arman leaned against the railing, scanning the crowd, then spoke while thinking of someone not yet in sight.
"So, where is he?"
"Adelian's just arriving over there."
Arman swept back his silver hair and turned.
Golden hair shining like the sun, blue eyes packed with arrogance.
Trailing behind him was a woman with deep red hair and ruby eyes. Taller than most men, with a slender yet toned body, and a strong, beautiful face.
"He was told to bring a guard, but he brought a girlfriend instead."
As Arman muttered, Adelian approached boldly and extended his hand.
"Fun party. I like it."
"Is that so? Thought you'd enjoy it. Would've been even better if you'd brought a decent guard to join the fights."
Arman gripped Adelian's hand firmly in his callused one.
'A hand that's never done real work.'
Calluses, sure, but thin. Steady training with a weapon or task builds specific ones—this hand hadn't.
He could tell from one handshake. How unreliable Adelian was.
A hand untrained in sword, bow, or spear.
Arman's eyes scanned Adelian's body.
And an untrained physique.
'Just as the rumors say.'
Probably looked pretty to women when he smiled weakly.
"What are you talking about? I brought her to participate."
Adelian thumbed at the woman behind him.
She wore martial arts garb and looked taller and tougher than average men, but...
"You do know aura's banned, right?"
"I do. Rachel, wait here a sec."
Women being weaker than men was common sense for the unawakened.
Those who handled aura or mana weren't bound by gender.
But today's arena banned aura—just bare-handed brawls.
Even if she was a martial artist, someone of Adelian's status would have plenty of guards. Why bring a woman?
'Pathetic.'
Having to deal with trash like this. Even if that Seiren thing was impressive...
Arman rubbed his temple against the budding headache, then noticed Adelian's guard glancing around like it was her first time.
Flushed cheeks, trembling hands. Had to be scared stiff.
Out of the corner of his eye, Adelian had left Rachel here and gone for champagne nearby.
Arman looked down at the arena, then pityingly at the quick-breathing Rachel.
"...Lady. You don't have to fight if you don't want to."
She was probably terrified. Even the strong felt different protecting someone versus outright violence.
Maybe wastrel Adelian brought her to break her in.
If she didn't obey, he'd whisper threats of tossing her into this no-aura pit to get beaten repeatedly.
'More than huge profits, the weak right in front of me matter more.'
That's what got him in trouble with his father so many times.
No helping it.
"Lady. I'll help you, so don't worry—come this way..."
As Arman reached for the trembling Rachel, her beautiful face split into a grin.
"I'm not."
"Not too scared."
"I'm too excited!"
Huh?
Arman blinked wide-eyed as Rachel's red hair whipped behind her, charging into the arena.
"Kahaha! I win! Next!"
"Next is me!"
"What?"
Arman gaped as Rachel leaped into the circular arena without a number tag, cracking her knuckles.
"Haha! What's this bitch?"
"Haha! What's this fucker?"
Rachel's solid fist slammed into the jaw of a man bigger than her. He staggered, then swung a head-sized fist at her.
A brutal slugfest, trading massive blows turn for turn.
"What the. She started without my permission. Whatever."
Arman stared blankly at the scene until Adelian sauntered up, sipping his drink.
"Uh... that lady is..."
"My guard. You said bring one."
"You didn't force her?"
"She'd grab my collar if I didn't."
Arman stood slack-jawed, staring at the arena, oblivious to Adelian slinging an arm over his shoulder and chuckling.
"Urk!"
"Haha, kyahaha!"
Rachel wiped her bloody nose with her hand, then mounted the downed man, raining punches nonstop.
"Ah, she went in after I placed my bet..."
Beside frozen Arman, Adelian sighed wistfully and downed the rest of his drink.