Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Fountain Pen (3)
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Duke Apontuna—who is he?
If you asked that question, you'd get a different answer from everyone.
Some would say he's so cold he has no heart.
Others might call him something beyond mere arrogance.
And still others would say he's an existence no one dares challenge.
But they'd all agree on one thing.
Expecting a smile from him is a luxury.
No—it's like conjuring something from nothing.
So what was I seeing right now?
A man who could pass for the Iron-Blooded Duke... smiling!
I forgot the duke was even there and gaped like an idiot.
"That's a disappointing reaction. My daughter talks about you a lot, you know."
...Damn, I'd finally walked right into the tiger's den on my own two feet.
Guess I'd pushed myself too hard lately and lost my mind.
Yeah, that had to be it. No way the duke would say something like that otherwise.
Just as I was about to dive into denial, the duke grabbed my attention.
His smile was still there, but his eyes were hard as steel.
"Listen. Even if you are my daughter's friend, there's a line you can't cross."
"Gasp...! My apologies, Your Grace."
I snapped back to reality and bowed my head hastily.
To avoid irritating him further, I skipped the excuses and just apologized.
"Well, I'll forgive you this once. But don't let there be a next time."
Th-that's a relief.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief inside and lifted my head.
"Thank you for your boundless mercy, Your Grace."
The duke acknowledged my gratitude with a slight nod.
"Right. Shall we head out, then? We can talk more there."
The duke rose without hesitation and headed for the drawing room door.
I stood to follow, and Biena quietly trailed behind me.
We left the drawing room and walked the corridor without a word.
I had no idea what to say anyway.
The duke was probably saving it for the dining hall.
Otherwise, why drag it out like this?
The awkward silence stretched on as we walked.
Minutes felt like hours until we finally reached the dining hall.
Waiting at the entrance was the butler, Valent, who'd arrived ahead of us.
He gave a brief bow to the duke and me before opening the dining hall doors.
"Whoa."
The dining hall was stunningly opulent.
Jewel-encrusted chandeliers were just the start, with priceless artworks scattered everywhere.
Artifacts and magic kept the room's temperature and humidity perfectly steady.
And it was all built from gold and marble, of course.
"Have a seat. The food will be out shortly."
Unlike my awe, the duke strode in casually, clearly used to it.
I hesitated before following him inside.
As I entered, my eyes darted to the artifacts and spells everywhere.
They were so beautifully crafted that I couldn't help comparing them to our dining hall back home.
...Ours is nothing like this.
I wonder if I'll ever have a house like this someday.
I'd never even thought about it before, but now I couldn't stop staring.
I shook my head sharply to snap out of it.
I'm here as a guest.
Not to gawk at the house. Get it together.
I repeated that to myself until my mind cleared.
"Phew."
I exhaled, shaking off the pointless envy, and took my seat.
As soon as I sat, the kitchen door swung open, and servants streamed in with dishes.
Each carried different plates, filling the table in moments.
Anyone would think it was a party.
The duke stared down at the food with a cold expression.
Probably because of the servants—not just the two of us.
That must be his usual demeanor.
Only after the servants had all left did he look at me.
"Unfortunately, Pretina and my wife aren't here. They're both busy."
"Haha, no worries. Meeting you is honor enough, Your Grace."
"Spare me the empty words. Eat before it gets cold."
The duke picked up his spoon first and began eating.
His posture was impeccably precise, leaving me a bit queasy.
Military-style meals even in daily life...
It triggered some PTSD, so I hurriedly started eating too.
At first, only the clink of cutlery filled the air.
I was starving from the carriage ride, and the duke didn't bother me.
Then, when the main course arrived, he spoke up.
"I hear you've been writing a book lately. Under the pen name Prometheus."
The familiar name came from the duke's mouth.
How could I not know it? It was mine.
I'd hidden my real name and identity.
Foren wouldn't have advertised my details, so he shouldn't know.
Yet the duke spoke as if it were obvious.
Not surprising, though.
Rumors said House Apontuna's intelligence surpassed even the imperial family's.
Probably not true, but it wasn't odd for them to know about me.
"That's right."
I admitted it readily, and he looked at me like I was amusing.
Why's he staring like that? It's unnerving.
As I hid my unease, something baffling came from his mouth.
"A Study in Scarlet. Quite an interesting read. You're not planning to take on both the Empire and the Holy Kingdom at once, are you?"
...Damn, that's why sharp people are dangerous.
No, wait—that's not it.
I reined in my fleeing sanity and parsed his words.
No need for deep interpretation; it was so blunt I had to choose my response carefully.
Obviously, I couldn't say it wasn't my original creation.
No one would believe me anyway.
I pondered while staring at the steak in front of me.
Gazing at the perfectly seared cut suddenly sparked a good idea.
If defense is tough, why not go on the offensive?
Whatever I said, he could twist it his way.
So hit back first.
The best defense is a good offense, right?
I steeled myself and met the duke's eyes.
He waited with an intrigued expression.
Seeing it made my mouth go dry.
Is this really a good idea?
I double-checked, but nothing better came to mind.
I wet my dry lips and spoke.
"Your Grace, while writing Sherlock Holmes, I wrestled with a few dilemmas. How to make it realistic yet entertaining?"
"And this is the result?"
"I didn't aim for it exactly. I left room for the reader's imagination."
In other words, that's how you saw it.
I'd basically said it outright, indirectly.
Maybe dangerous to say that to the duke.
Wait—had I lost my mind?
One corner of the duke's mouth twitched up.
I couldn't read the emotion, but it didn't seem negative.
...Right?
As I watched anxiously, he chuckled.
"Heh, now I see why my daughter talks about you. You're bold."
"Hahaha..."
I was dying to know what she'd said.
But I lacked the guts to ask outright.
Or rather, I might regret hearing it.
I rationalized it away and squashed my rising curiosity.
To banish the damn thing, I threw out a question.
"Your Grace, I have something I'd like to ask."
"No need for such formality. Do I seem that old?"
"Haha."
A joke?
Definitely a joke, right?
His smiling face said yes, but the heavy words drew an awkward grin from me.
"So, what is it?"
The duke seemed curious about what I'd say.
I didn't want this kind of attention from him.
Blame Pretina for all this.
I'll grill her later.
"You offered to sponsor me. What exactly did you see in me?"
This would sound bold to him too.
But I had to ask.
Why? Why me?
What made him decide to back me?
Even a doting father wouldn't do this on her word alone.
He must have seen something in my book.
Maybe from that straight ball he just threw?
As hypotheses swirled in my head...
The duke answered casually, like handling routine business.
"Simple question. An artist's work reveals their philosophy, ideology, thought process. Though not always. Anyway, I just found something I liked in yours."
"And that's why you're sponsoring me?"
"Yes."
So straightforward.
I was shocked at how simple it was.
Of course, he left out details—probably personal.
I couldn't pry further.
It felt truly risky.
After that, we chatted idly and finished the meal.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Right after Edn left House Apontuna, the duke opened Sherlock Holmes in his study.
He'd read it once, but the second time had its own charm.
Halfway through, he closed the book and gazed out the window.
"Nice weather today."
Despite the clear skies, his mind was a storm.
At the center: Edn.
The man his daughter was interested in. The bold one who'd stood up to him.
He recalled Edn's words from the meal.
"The second in the Sherlock Holmes series comes out soon, right?"
The duke wondered what it would be like—and how Pretina would react.
The first had subtly criticized some imperial nobles' debauchery.
"Didn't expect him to tie it to religion, though."
Even now, he found it audacious.
Taking on the Empire and Holy Kingdom at once?
Though Edn hadn't meant to, no one would believe that.
The duke liked that about it.
He remembered another thing Edn mentioned: the fountain pen.
A replacement for quills, he'd heard.
"Fountain pen, huh. I'll try it and decide on more sponsorship. And..."
He set the book aside and picked up a document.
It was a report on suspicious activity in the Holy Kingdom.
"The Saintess. What are you planning?"
He'd learned she'd deployed agents and spies lately.
Only House Apontuna and the imperial family knew for now.
Who knew what would happen later.
After a moment's thought, he set it aside.
It was the Holy Kingdom's business anyway.
Stay out, then snag some scraps if things blew up.
Dismissing it, he returned to work.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Sigh."
"Young master, what's wrong?"
"...Are you teasing me? Or serious?"
"Guess."
What the hell?
I stared in disbelief, and her calm face lit up with smug satisfaction.
Can a maid do this?
Lately, Biena seemed to be teasing me more often.
It was so ridiculous I just ignored her.
She puffed her cheeks, displeased at being ignored.
"Didn't everything go well? Why the long face?"
"This went well? And you're making it worse, seriously."
On the surface, it ended fine.
But the "sponsorship" he gave me? Gold bars.
Five kilograms worth.
That's the amount you'd hesitate to give even a veteran author with three to five books out.
Not for a debutant with one book.
"The duke definitely has ulterior motives. So Biena, watch yourself too."
"I always do. Worry about your own safety, young master."
Ugh, can't argue with that.
I wanted to retort but just nodded.
After some time in the carriage, we reached home.
A servant waited at the door.
He hurried over and handed me a letter.
I opened it: Professor Herman's handwriting.
Reading it on the spot, it was longer than usual but summed up neatly, true to form.
"Meet tomorrow?"
"I'll prepare."
Biena, who'd peeked over my shoulder, vanished in a flash.
I scratched my head watching her go.
"Uh... yeah, thanks."
The next day.
I faced a scene that was astonishing—no, familiar.
"Edn! This is revolutionary!"
Memories flooded back of grad school, the professor glaring at me.
Ah, PTSD.
Should've sent the fountain pen blueprints ahead. Regret hit hard.