Chapter 189
Chapter 189
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 189
Chapter Title: Salon
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“...”
“...”
“...”
I'd somehow managed to finish my explanation, but that didn't do a thing to ease the awkward atmosphere.
The people seated stiffly around the table all shut their mouths.
The emperor, who had laid out his plan to use me as "state correspondence," was puffing thick clouds of smoke from the pipe clenched in his mouth.
‘...Tobacco?’
Saintess Lucienne smoked it occasionally too, but this guy was blowing it out in the most extravagant style.
For someone under one of the world's top curses, it was an impressively bold move.
“...Are you all right, Your Majesty?”
“Hm?”
And apparently, I wasn't the only one thinking that, as Elnor voiced her concern in a worried tone.
The emperor, hearing it, just looked at her like she was speaking nonsense.
“...Ah, this?”
The emperor chuckled and briefly removed the pipe from his mouth.
“No need to worry.”
“...Pardon?”
“On the contrary, if I don't smoke, I die.”
“...”
Elnor clutched her head as she watched him pop the pipe back into his mouth. She looked utterly baffled.
Rarely did this woman cause headaches for others; this time, she was the one suffering.
Truly the empire's absolute ruler.
[...Is it really dignified to draw majesty from something like that?]
Kalliban grumbled, but it wasn't a joke—this was genuinely a display of the emperor's dignity.
It was the only being to whom Elnor—even she, who rivaled Sullivan the Chancellor in her near-unrivaled supremacy—yielded a step.
It must be due to the bond built growing up together when Cecilia XI was still a "princess."
“...”
Of course, that much.
I'd said it countless times, but his death would have a massive impact on Elnor.
An impact severe enough to upheave the entire scenario.
“...More importantly, you mentioned going hunting.”
As those thoughts crossed my mind, Elnor forced out the words with visible effort.
Unlike Eliya, Elnor was well-acquainted with the emperor himself.
So while Eliya sat there with a face screaming "Is that for real?" and couldn't utter a word, Elnor at least managed to ask a question.
“Indeed. Any questions?”
“...Is it really safe?”
Her words carried two layers of meaning.
First, whether such a gesture was appropriate given the empire's current situation.
And second, concern for "my" well-being.
She was worried about me being used as bait.
“...Hmm.”
The emperor exhaled a deep plume of smoke and chose his words carefully.
His murky eyes, tinged with brown irises, soon fixed straight on Elnor.
“I'll be honest. I can't guarantee it.”
“...”
Elnor's eyes quietly closed.
“...Your Majesty is not one to gamble with lives for pointless reasons.”
A low, steady voice followed.
“But that man—”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence that my life hasn't been wasted so far, Elnor.”
The emperor spoke amid billowing smoke.
“But that man is already entangled in this, even without my involvement.”
“...Pardon?”
“Sullivan the Chancellor started paying attention to him, which drew my gaze as well—and that means the Elder Council is likely watching him too.”
The emperor continued in a calm tone.
“I don't know what they're plotting, but I can assure you it's nothing good for him. Crushing them would benefit both me and him.”
“...”
To Elnor, whose eyes had widened in surprise, the emperor dropped another line.
“Moreover, their leader... personally has quite an interest in him.”
Is that how it is?
Well, up until now, he had an unparalleled connection to "demons," and lately, he'd drawn even more attention with the hero selection trials.
Even without all the "state correspondence" talk, he was already plenty conspicuous. Exposed to threats.
“So I think it'd be best if he accepts the offer...”
The emperor's gaze flicked sideways.
“...But seeing your dissatisfaction, there must be another reason.”
“...”
“Put the jealousy aside.”
Cecilia XI said that to Elnor, who had her lips pressed tight.
The words encompassed even Eliya, who had been listening silently.
“I have no intention of stealing him. Anyone not blind can see how precious he is to you all.”
“...”
As Elnor stared at the emperor with wide eyes, a wry smile crossed Cecilia XI's face.
“...To begin with, I don't have much time left myself.”
“What do you—”
Before Elnor could finish her question, a knock echoed from the door.
“...Your Majesty. Are you inside?”
A familiar voice. The Sword Saint's.
“Oh, Rad. What brings you?”
“...Please stop entering outsiders' lodgings without even a servant. Consider how many people that troubles.”
“They can be troubled. They nag enough as it is.”
“...”
Is this... the emperor...?
This thick-skinned guy...?
“...In any case, I have business with the man inside.”
The Sword Saint continued with a sigh.
“Contact from the Elder Council. They want a meeting with Dawood Campbell.”
“...”
“...”
The perfectly timed words plunged the room into silence.
“...See?”
Cecilia XI inhaled smoke from his pipe and grinned.
“The bite comes right away.”
He looked like he'd been waiting for it.
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The Elder Council consisted mainly of prestigious families, excluding the empire's two great nobles: the Tristan Ducal House and Kendrid Margrave.
Though lacking the prestige of the emperor or chancellor, they still wielded enough collective influence to have a major voice in national affairs.
Simply put.
The authority of the empire's two great nobles supporting the emperor, and the bureaucrats and officials firmly under the chancellor's control...
‘...The setting's so half-assed.’
It doesn't make sense.
With such lofty figures as the emperor and chancellor gripping the regime and real power, for the other nobles not to just suck up to those lines but form a third faction...
Anyone could see it was weird.
But even for such a hole-ridden, trashy setting, there's always someone to lend it plausibility.
“You're that Dawood Campbell?!”
I force a smile as the man grabs my hand, his eyes sparkling.
Neatly trimmed black hair. Deep intellect in his eyes. Impeccably dressed in courtly formalwear. Yet a solidly trained physique that even the suit couldn't hide.
Honestly, he doesn't look like a noble.
More like a young athlete who's diligent about self-care.
“Man, I've wanted to meet you forever. Honored! I watched your performance in the hero selection trials! Actually, I'd been watching even before that! From when you boldly provoked the Pontiff!”
But the one gushing at me with shining eyes was undoubtedly one of the empire's top nobles.
Bogart Marquis.
Nicknamed the "Lionheart."
A war hero said never to have lost a single battle against beasts, heretics, or foreign powers.
“...”
Even Kendrid Margrave, the empire's greatest shield, must have tasted defeat somewhere. Gideon too. Even Kalliban, slumbering in the Soul Linker.
But this man.
He'd defeated every opponent he'd ever faced. With such an overwhelming gap in ability that no one could deny calling him a genius.
Of course, he'd never clashed with top-tier powerhouses like the Sword Saint to begin with—that would spell civil war the moment it happened.
Among all the empire's young nobles, he was the most promising.
‘...Even in the game.’
There was open talk that, without a few "constraints," he would've been the first in this generation to claim a holy sword.
That's the level of "talent" he possessed.
If only those constraints weren't so fatal.
“Welcome to the imperial palace! When did you arrive? Eaten yet? Where's your lodging?”
“...Um.”
Overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, I manage an awkward smile.
Even in the game, he was one of the most hyperactive guys, but up close, it's worse.
“...M-Marquis. The guest looks troubled.”
One of his attendants steps in with a wry smile, and Bogart Marquis beams before slapping his own forehead.
The gesture was so exaggerated it felt theatrical.
[...He just seems a bit hyper at first glance. Doesn't look like a bad guy?]
‘...That's the problem.’
[What?]
‘Freaks like this are harder to read.’
Actually, it's odd if you think about it.
In the original story, the imperial civil strife in Chapter 5 was spearheaded by Sullivan, in sharp opposition to the emperor.
But right now, Sullivan shows no connection whatsoever to the Elder Council.
Cecilia XI, who should be gearing up for political attacks in response to Sullivan's moves, is instead quietly focused on me.
The backdrop feels sorely lacking for the "great upheaval" I remember from Chapter 5.
“...”
But.
One thing I've learned since possessing this world: every bad event destined to happen has without fail.
‘...Civil war will happen. It's fated.’
The question is.
‘Who’ will cause it.
The original candidates—emperor and Sullivan—both seem unlikely. Both are vessels for the demon, and both fixated solely on me.
Which means.
In the current situation, eliminating both leaves just this one guy.
“Sorry! I blabbered too much! The reason I called you here is this!”
Amid his rapid-fire chatter, a wax-sealed letter flies into my view.
“...This is?”
“An invitation! A salon event centered on the Elder Council will soon be held in the palace!”
He shoves the letter firmly into my hand.
His eyes sparkle. An intensely fervent gaze bores into me.
“I'm Dawood Campbell's number one fan. Please, you have to come! That's it!”
“...”
What a hyper guy.
He dumps his spiel and bolts, just like that.
“...”
As his flustered attendants chase after Bogart Marquis, I look at the letter in my hand.
Considering the importance of Bogart Marquis I just recalled, this invitation can't be taken lightly.
Depending on my actions here, who knows what butterfly effects might unfold later.
“...A salon.”
I've never been to one.
As heir to a former barony, now viscounty, why would I crash the playground of high nobles?
But.
‘...Make a splashy debut, huh.’
I sigh, recalling words from before coming here.
—Bogart will likely give you an invitation to the salon in the palace. He's shown clear interest in you before.
The emperor had said that while puffing smoke.
—Why not make the most of it with a dramatic entrance?
—...Pardon?
—I think it's necessary.
—...Why?
—The Elder Council is made of stuffy old prestigious houses. For them, the salon is more than just an event. How much you stand out will shape their impression of you entirely. You'll gather more intel too.
I remember the emperor grinning as he answered.
Sounded plausible... I bought it.
But how?
For a viscount's heir to draw eyes at an event full of ultra-high-status nobles? Not easy.
[Wait, I've got a good idea.]
Kalliban suddenly piped up.
[How about entering together? The three of us with His Majesty?]
“...”
[Trashy stuff is your specialty. You'd draw attention like nobody's business.]
Kalliban cackled, clearly teasing me.
What, stroll in dangling the current hero candidate, the empire's ruler, and the Tristan Duchess?
That goes beyond attention-grabbing—it's flaunting madness.
“...Don't be ridiculous—”
I start to retort.
Then clamp my mouth shut.
“...”
[...]
“...”
[...Why'd you go quiet?]
I sink into silent contemplation.
Deep in thought with a serious expression for a long while.
[...]
“...”
[...]
“...”
[...Hey.]
“...”
[No way, right?]
You know.
That thing.
“Kalliban.”
[No, you mad bastard.]
“...”
[No.]
I haven't even said anything yet.
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