Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Eastern Square Counterattack
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"Damn, why is that old man's grip so strong?"
"Young master, watch your language."
"No, I thought my neck was gonna snap!"
"Good grief, young master, aren't you overreacting to just a collar grab?"
"How do you deal with real pain? What if I have a bruise?"
"Let me take a look. Loosen your collar a bit."
"Okay."
I undid the buttons and parted my collar, exposing the spot that had been throbbing since earlier.
Emily narrowed her eyes and crouched down in front of me.
"Where does it hurt... Eek!"
The moment her gaze landed on my collarbone, Emily's eyes went wide in shock, and she hurriedly reached toward my chest.
"Why is it... Aah!"
The instant her hand brushed my collarbone, a stabbing pain hit me like a needle jabbing the wound.
"Ugh... What the hell?"
"Y-Young master, your neck and chest are covered in really bad bruises! They're bright red!"
"What?"
Seeing Emily's face drain of color as she stammered, I immediately grabbed the mirror from the table.
I angled it to show my neck and chest, pulling my shirt down. There, etched clearly on my collarbone and upper chest, was a hand-sized, dark red bruise.
"Eek? No way, what is this..."
"I was behind you so I couldn't see well, but you didn't actually get hit, right? It was just the collar grab?"
"Yeah, really, he only grabbed my collar..."
That old man had grabbed me roughly, sure, but a bruise this bad from just one collar grab?
"That was close... We nearly had a disaster."
"Tell me about it. I really thought I was done for."
I'd figured as long as I protected my head and neck, I could take one hit while mouthing off. But not even a punch—just a collar grab had nearly left me on death's door.
Feeling the raw power firsthand, way beyond what I'd imagined, sent a chill racing down my spine.
"Phew..."
From now on, I'll hold back on the provoking and play it politely cocky.
"Shouldn't we head to the cathedral right away? Or at least get Princess Fanny to check it?"
Emily wiped the cold sweat beading on her forehead, her hand trembling as she gently grabbed my arm, her face full of worry.
"Hmm..."
This bruise probably needed treatment, but letting it go felt like a waste.
"Treatment can wait. Call over some Imperial Knights from outside."
"Pardon? No, what are you..."
Her face twisted in anger at the idea of skipping the doctor when injured.
"Gotta preserve the evidence of getting assaulted. This is a violence case, right?"
"Ah...!"
The process was a bit unusual, and neither I nor the old man had expected it, but I'd been hurt badly enough for bruises.
That was plenty to make trouble if documented properly.
You might think a high noble wouldn't get fazed by something like this, but if I described what happened, anyone would get it.
'In a room alone, laying hands on someone young enough to be his grandson until bruises formed.'
Add in 'a regular guy who can't handle mana' versus 'a former knight,' and it becomes a devastating combo—chest-thumping outrage with no easy explanation.
"I'll bring them both over then."
"Yeah, thanks."
Document it, get a diagnosis, inform my parents, and then drop it big on Founding Day.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The day after my tofu-like body got marked up by the Former Duke of Devonshire.
Was that declaration to crush me a full-throated war cry packed with sincerity? The old man jumped straight into action.
His first move was storming our Atelier's trading partners, trying to choke us out.
It would've been a devastatingly effective strike against anyone else.
"Here's this week's delivery."
"Thanks as always. No issues lately?"
"A few weird folks came by, but they left empty-handed."
"Good to hear."
It meant nothing to us.
Inevitably so—our trading partners were too unique.
Magicians and witches we dealt with for machines or materials? Dad alone shut that down.
He's the one stamping patents; no way they'd betray him.
And our key partner, Prince Hans, is a demi-human.
Messing with his business base in the demi-human autonomous zone is headache enough from their side, but touch Prince Hans even slightly wrong, and it's racial discrimination.
Demi-humans used to be treated like fancy pets or livestock, and some long-lived species have victims still alive and glaring—discrimination now? That'd make things fun.
Our Atelier has plenty of demi-humans too. If that old man had caused a real scene when he showed up, I could've had Caterina or Mari load up tears on the spot. Shame it ended with just me hurt.
That would've spared us this petty, headache-inducing slog.
But the mudslinging's underway now, so I'll calmly prep my next strike.
I took the hits running the Atelier on weekdays; weekend's my turn.
"This one's printed beautifully too."
I grinned proudly at the posters freshly printed and shipped from Hume County.
Nailed the look again—black linen with thick-thread embroidery for a simple yet elegant, sophisticated vibe.
Opinions split on white, ivory, or black, but black was the right call.
Other clothes? Maybe. But for panties or bras, black is truth.
Even simple embroidery pops.
"That's the poster for this time?"
"Another one out? Mind if I take a peek?"
"Sure, go ahead."
As I smirked at it, employees on break gathered around, curious.
Not enough room behind me, so I spread it out on the table for all to see.
"Printed real nice."
"Black does look best."
"Hmm... No matter how I think, white's prettier, no?"
"You remember white was just your push, Prince Herbert?"
"Black was just Sir William's at first too."
"Then convince us better."
"No, practicality's cheating when picking pretty, right?"
"But it convinced."
"Kuh...!"
Even I admit it was a cheap win.
White got better design reviews, but I pulled the dirty logic that light fabric shows stains easier.
Winning's what counts.
"Sir William."
"Yeah?"
As I watched Prince Herbert tremble and glare at the poster, smirking, quiet Princess Elizabeth poked it seriously and spoke up.
"Can we post this? Folks from the Duke's house seem to be watching the boards constantly."
"Yeah... Western Square's tough now."
Not 100% sure, but suspicious types multiplied around the boards.
It's busy anyway, but staring at a board for hours? Not normal.
No racetrack or casino there.
"Newspapers are a lost cause, and forcing it risks your fragile doll-body even getting near, Sir William."
"Fair point."
"No good spots left then. You planning to stick it on our Atelier door?"
"Nah? Why no spots? Imperial Capital's got three squares."
"......"
Empire's top city, biggest too—Imperial Capital has multiple squares.
Three big enough for thousands at once.
Central Square smack in the capital, Eastern Square by the forest—more park than square.
Legal boards only in Western, but I'm posting illegally anyway. What does it matter?
Just slap it where crowds pass.
"Central Square's a hard no."
"His Majesty couldn't cover that either. Obviously."
Central's nickname: Imperial Palace Square.
Right at the Palace entrance.
Pulling stunts there? Insane.
Otherwise, anywhere goes for the same 12 silver fine.
"October cools things down, picnics pick up."
"Yeah, leaves turning, scenery's gorgeous."
"Still late September, but decent picnic weather. Posting in Eastern Square."
"Hmm... Nobles flock there, but got a spot for it?"
"One perfect."
"Where?"
"Entrance. No carriages inside, so structures there. Stick it on one."
"Aha."
Unlike Western where you might skip the board, Eastern forces the entrance—better reach.
Even hits nobles unless mega-rich. Perfect clientele.
"Not bad. Some'll hate it, but too late anyway."
"Right. Can't please all—target who to please."
Young folks' interest is key.
Time turns generations.
Protect long-term viewers. Done.
Clear hater demographic helps here.
Though it sparks these headaches.
"Posting sneaky at night again?"
"Nah, dawn this time. Sir Rachel's shift starts 4 AM."
"Oof~ She works hard."
"Haha..."
Sorry, but to compete with the Duke house, I gotta pull every string.
Well, thanks to me, she got face-time with His Majesty—maybe she gains too...?
Yeah, scummy thought.
"......"
A twinge of conscience.
Making her work hard 'cause of me... Can't do much, but gotta make it up later.