Chapter 494
Chapter 494
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 494
Chapter Title: Perfume Tycoon
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1.
Where do high-ranking witches hold their social gatherings?
They mingle at Yesod Count's Levaña Grand Bathhouse or private invitations at home, but one simply cannot overlook the 'First Red Roof Salon' in Ars Magna Town.
The full name is far too lengthy, so everyone shortens it to 'Red Roof Salon,' or simply 'Salon.'
In that grand red mansion, witches engage in lively camaraderie and exchange.
Auctions for all sorts of magical goods and luxuries take place here, and even without them, dozens of witches are always gathered, lingering leisurely.
Some freely discuss and debate magic, others bask by sunlit windows playing the folk game Location Board, and still others recline languidly on sofas, reading books and sipping tea...
In a word, it's Gehenna's social hub for witches with ample time and wealth.
"Rose Glass, you say? They're all the rage these days, aren't they? I put in for a membership myself. Their hospitality was quite impressive."
"Oh my? A host bar, though? Isn't it a tad beneath witches to frequent? Hehe."
"Is that how it seemed to you? I wouldn't expect that from the witch who went on a business trip to Greece to procure male prostitutes. Ohoho."
"Goodness, you say the most phallic things. That was purely business, you know?"
"Oh, right, it was."
Conversations range from such refined banter...
"By the way, when's the next auction hosted by Adonai Count?"
"I've heard smugglers are facing delays lately—the present world's in such chaos."
"Hey, have you heard that rumor?"
To the latest gossip swirling within Gehenna.
But do not be deceived by the refined laughter, the fragrant scents wafting about, the radiant smiles, and the fluttering hems of dresses.
When lovely women crowd into the same space, competition is inevitable.
And so, this place is a battlefield.
How finely have they honed their beauty?
How elegantly do their accessories gleam?
How perfectly suited is their adornment?
How flawlessly do they display graceful poise without breaching etiquette?
Everyone on high alert, scanning and scoring in real time.
The noblewomen assembled here willingly step onto this savage field of judgment to reaffirm their worth.
Even the witch casually lounging on the sofa with her glass tilted, or the one demurely chatting behind her fan.
All of them are putting everything on display.
"...Hmm~ So hot."
For instance, the blue-haired witch who's been sprawled on the sofa for a while now.
She feigns a stretch, naturally baring her wrist—or more precisely, the exquisite bracelet adorning it.
A lavish piece crafted from a massive blue diamond and silver, it was the limited-edition 'Dmer Syndrome' recently released by a craftsman from the present world.
After fierce bidding, it fell to an anonymous buyer—and it seems the blue-haired Dmer Baroness was the fortunate winner.
A few witches who caught the subtle flash of the bracelet sauntered over.
"Baroness! That's the bracelet from the recent auction, isn't it? I wondered who snagged it—turns out it was you, Dmer Baroness."
"A bracelet this lovely sharing my name? I felt destined. I bought it like I was under a spell."
"Mind if I take a closer look?"
"Of course, as long as you'd like."
"Such a shame. I stuck it out until the end but lost it. Congratulations, Baroness."
"Really? Now I feel bad."
Sighs heavy with suppressed envy, eyes brimming with longing.
Dmer's nose lifted a full handspan higher as she casually flaunted her wealth and taste—until she spotted Albireo Countess.
One of Gehenna's wealthiest houses, and a countess family to boot—the Jemernais were among the salon's top powerhouses.
She visited occasionally, always descending as the star in novel jewels and stunning attire.
But not today.
"Albireo Countess, it's been a while since your last visit."
Dmer gladly declared war on Albireo.
Albireo's outfit was a plain black dress.
Usually, she dominated the room like a graceful black swan, but with this bracelet in play, Dmer judged she had a real shot.
"Yes, have you been well, Dmer Baroness? You look stunning as always."
"Not at all. Just a bit more effort than usual."
Albireo flashed a gentle smile and gracefully lifted her skirt hem.
Dmer had already shown her bracelet, so now it was Albireo's turn.
But she merely wore that refined smile, revealing nothing more.
To the casual eye, it seemed a humble concession of defeat.
And just as Dmer, victorious before the watching witches, was about to let her triumphant smirk slip—
The twist came.
"By the way, is that a lovely scent I smell?"
"Now that you mention it...?"
"Rose? No, this aroma is..."
The witches clustered between Albireo and Dmer Baroness began sniffing the air.
A gentle fragrance wafted from somewhere.
Not overpowering, utterly natural, yet so vividly imprinted it conjured clear imagery.
Like the faint divinity and reverence stirred by a masterpiece that touches the soul.
The witches, rich in sensibility, found themselves entranced by the scent.
"This fragrance... It's like a single rose, confident in its beauty, needing no boast..."
"It feels like strolling through a garden bursting with geraniums and roses... bending to kiss the queen rose, most elegantly bloomed among them..."
"Beautiful! Amid the hazy rose otto, this spicy prick—like thorns at the nose tip—proving it's more than mere beauty! Oh, to think such a perfume exists..."
Albireo, who appeared in that unassuming dress.
Yet perfume is fashion too, invisible though it may be.
The 'A Single Rose' gifted by Amelia was proving its worth in full.
"Countess, could this be Merigold's perfume? I've sampled their ancestral scents, but... nothing like this."
"Sharp eye. As expected. I was lucky enough to receive it personally."
"It's pricey, but so tempting now... I must visit."
As Dmer Baroness, shoved to the sidelines, clenched her fists, more and more witches flocked to Albireo.
2.
And so, Amelia's perfume workshop buzzed with witches from opening day straight through the third.
From those who'd heard the rumors and reserved in advance, to others who'd directly or indirectly savored the exquisite scents and came late to book.
The tiny shop tucked in a corner of Malkuth Gallery couldn't accommodate them all, so Sophia ended up handling every reservation.
Amelia sat at the first-floor counter, gauging each customer's desires before blending essential oils into high-purity alcohol to craft their perfume.
Siwoo took on bellboy and assistant duties.
He greeted arriving witches and fetched unprepared scents and bottles from the second- and third-floor storerooms.
At first glance, it seemed Siwoo had little to do—but reality was far different.
The tiered perfumer's shelves, organ-like to maximize scents on display, still held only a few hundred downstairs.
Meanwhile, Amelia drew from thousands—tens of thousands—of varieties, tailored to each person's essence.
Even oils from the same flower varied by origin, breed, even harvest year—so he hustled back and forth, scrutinizing labels per her orders.
Fetching oils, returning them, repeat. He half-expected to sprout SCV thrusters.
"Whew."
Amelia spent about an hour per customer.
With brief gaps between reservations, this moment—just after seeing off the last witch—was her chance to breathe.
She counted the gold coins from the latest sale and stowed them in the safe.
The small safe behind the counter already brimmed with a dazzling hoard.
It'd all go to debt soon enough, but gazing at it still swelled the heart with pride.
"Assistant Shin Siwoo, tired? I can let you rest upstairs if you like."
"No, how could I rest alone?"
"Rejecting my kindness?"
Her tone flat as ever, face unchanging.
To an outsider unfamiliar with Amelia, their rapport might seem stiff or sour.
Ever since that academy roleplay forged their bond, she'd carried on this way—no helping it.
Of course, it stemmed not from ill will, but her own brand of humor.
She'd play the subtly domineering ice queen in that clipped tone—then, at the slightest opening, slip in coquettish charm that wrecked the heart.
Especially once night fell and they were alone after closing—like the perfect day-to-night gap moe.
No matter how often he saw it, the charm never faded.
"When work ends today, you'll pay for your rudeness."
At any rate, they now traded quips this freely—proof her walls had crumbled.
He couldn't say why for sure, never asked outright, but he had his guesses.
Perhaps she'd been chipping away, her way, at the mental debt she thought unforgivable.
The guilt she'd never absolve herself of, no matter how often he said it was fine.
"What're you staring at? Don't tell me you hate it?"
"Love it. But didn't you say the same yesterday, then bawl your eyes out? Feeling bold today?"
"Hmph. Get ready."
Siwoo counted it a blessing.
Finally, Amelia stood eye-to-eye with him—no more bending to his gaze, no more self-sacrifice.
One clinging in guilt, the other tiptoeing around feelings.
Some might like it, but not him.
That wasn't healthy love.
Mid-banter, Siwoo leaned across the counter.
Curtains drawn, no customers in sight—should be fine.
"Assistant! What if someone sees?"
"Embarrassed?"
"Who's embarrassed?"
"You, Amelia, with that flushed face anyone could read."
Their lips drifted naturally toward a brush—
-Ding-a-ling!
A bright bell chime, and in burst a poorly timed customer.
As if fueled by spite, the door flew open like it might shatter.
"Sorry, came too early."
Dark green locks, refreshing mint eyes.
Not her usual casual wear, but dressed to the nines—Sharon.
Amelia's eyes wide like a startled rabbit, Sharon gazing steadily at her.
A strange tension crackled between them.