Chapter 36
Why was today's conversation so damn risky?
I pinched my thigh hard to shake off the haze clouding my mind. 'Snap out of it, Kasian.'
The woman across from me was a gumiho. A nine-tailed veteran who reeked of money. Rich people don't blow cash carelessly. Just because you've got 100 billion doesn't mean a million feels like pocket lint. Nah, they sweat over every single penny—that's how they got rich.
I whipped out my mental calculator. Roughly 10 billion for that southern mansion + 30 billion in palace-guaranteed gold bars = 40 billion. Insane amount. Way overkill for babysitting one unproven disciple with potential.
Muller Viscountess called it a "deal," but it didn't feel like one at all.
She's just printing money here.
Her plan was obvious: dazzle me into losing my head, get my stamp on the contract first, ask questions later.
As I rolled my eyes and stayed silent, Muller Viscountess lifted her teacup and murmured softly.
"You know, it's rude to look like you're punching numbers in front of someone. Makes you seem so materialistic."
"Can you blame me? You drop an extreme offer like this out of nowhere. I'm just being straight-up because I appreciate your kindness—no mind games."
I shot back seriously. No backing down here, or I'm done.
"Let me ask outright. Doesn't this make zero sense?"
"What doesn't?"
"You're not even that close to your disciple. You just took her on. And you're offering 40 billion?"
"It's 30 billion."
"The mansion's part of the package."
Where's this coming from? Us? …Not that we're anything special.
I tapped the table. "40 billion could cover a whole commoner village's lifetime taxes to their lord. Hell, it'd run a full knight order for two or three years. And you're saying that's pocket change for protecting one student?"
"……."
"What's the real reason? You're no charity case."
Hit the nail on the head. But her reaction wasn't what I expected. Her eyes narrowed, glinting with a sharp, eerie edge.
"……Hmm."
She set her teacup down with a soft clink.
"Unique way of calculating."
"Pardon?"
"Normal noble young masters don't know squat about commoner village taxes. No interest, no need. Knight order budgets? Same deal."
"……."
Shit.
"But you compare with such detail. Only someone who's stared at ledgers all day could do that."
Her gaze bored into mine. "Training under the Palace Count on the down-low? Intelligence budgets, audits, that sort of thing?"
……Whoa.
This lady's out for blood. I had to deny it, but denying would just lead to "Then how do you know so much?" Can't exactly say 'Cause I was a dirt-poor schmuck in my past life.'
Damn, time to bullshit.
I dodged her eyes with an ambiguous silence. She smirked, convinced.
"Knew it. Rumors aren't bullshit. The Parne family's second son, playing dumb."
"……Misunderstanding."
"No need to be modest. Talented guys are hot."
No, really. Please. First I'd heard of that rumor, too.
*Time to squash this dangerous misunderstanding. Explaining would just hurt my mouth, and she'd love it more—like 'Oh, secret agent hiding his identity?' No thanks.*
"Anyway, point is."
I changed the subject. "I don't think I'm worth 40 billion. Too much bubble."
"No confidence? My disciple offer was wilder—unlimited support."
"That was an 'investment.'"
I drew a firm line. "Expenses on you, equity on you. Long-term incentive to make me work my ass off. Means I'd be your underling."
"Never saw it that way."
"I did. If I'd accepted, I'd have acted the part."
Whoops. Her eyes got a weird glint. Gotta gloss over the slip.
"Anyway, that offer's edgier, but it's a carrot to motivate me under you. Not like this—upfront fixed reward."
But this? Lump-sum cash. Stinks. Rotten stink.
"Like you said, this feels like a 'transaction,' not investment. Every deal has strings. Strings worth 40 billion mean…"
I lowered my voice. "Something risky. Or a pain in the ass."
"……."
Muller Viscountess went quiet, then clapped. Clap!
She nodded, impressed. "Sharp insight. Fine, cards on the table."
She leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "My intel net says my cute disciple's tangled with His Highness the Crown Prince."
"……!"
I was stunned inside. Super classified at this point? Louis was hiding the saintess link tight. And she knows?
This lady's intel rivals the bureau.
I glanced around. Cafe terrace. People passing, chatter at nearby tables.
"……This talk okay for eavesdroppers?"
I asked warily. She chuckled.
"Fine."
She tapped the saucer. "Soundproof artifact's been on since earlier."
"……Pardon?"
"You're a mage—you'd sense it. Warning me? 'No magic without permission' or whatever?"
"……."
No clue. Thought we were just chatting raw. Cold sweat now.
Her words hit like a warning shot. "How should I take this?"
Fuck, I'd feel it if I were a real mage. I'm just a button-masher. What's "aura"? Mana flow? I hit skill buttons when they light up, cooldown after three uses. Like a flight shooter with basic shots disabled, just three ults loaded.
"Bad mana sense. Missed it."
"……What?"
"I'm thick-headed. Can't read flows well."
"Not buying it?"
She snorted. "Iris and the faculty certified genius? Solved blackboard-filling equations on the spot. Dull aura sense? Please."
"For real."
"No……."
"Dead serious."
I played innocent shamelessly. Her eyes widened. Wait, really? The ever-composed lady looked genuinely flustered—oddly satisfying. Gap moe on this big sis.
"Truth. What magic training you think I did? You know my life—potato-digging, corn double-cropping bumpkin fishing all day."
I tapped the table. "Just solved problems handed to me. Grabbed the pen, solutions flowed."
"……So no practicals, not even theory math?"
"Yeah. Dad forced some one-offs. Local tutors know me—world's laziest kid, flunked out."
"Pure intuition for all that? Can't even handle mana?"
"Yup."
"……."
She stared blankly, eyes swirling with confusion.
"Feels like a wall."
"Wall's what I feel when you flex power."
"No, serious. Noble girl here—early magic lessons as a kid. Your case? Unheard of in history."
Of course not. Possession perk.
In this world's nobility, magic basics are like ballet or taekwondo in Korea. She's probably more clued in. No way she knows my deal.
She shook her head. "That's why you turned down disciple spot. Bigger magic destiny."
"Nah."
I denied flat-out. "Still no interest in magic. Just figured being your disciple means perks for me, but tons of clingy people around. Passed."
"Clingy people?"
"Yeah. Like the pink-haired saintess withering without a patron. That sort."
She raised both hands in surrender. "Got it. You win. Your brutal honesty snared me this time."
Muller Viscountess straightened up. "You were straight, so I'll be too."
Good.
*
"Lily's in a messy spot. Fallen noble, became saintess because of it."
Was she? Right.
"Barneo Archbishop picked her as his puppet saintess—you know that."
Yeah. That setup. Memories sharpening. Damn, if I'd known this was a novel sooner, I'd have outlined the original plot first thing. But yeah—fake saintess. No oracles in ages. Pope and archbishops pick a figurehead by politics to rally faithful. How's a 20-something beat geezer prayer power? Romance novel "purity-based" holy power? Author's ideology's trash fire.
But key point: She's the real deal.
Lily's got regression perks—god-chosen saintess from history books. Muller Viscountess's intel crew ain't heaven-connected, so no way they know that.
"To build her 'saintess who understands the bottom rung' image, the archbishop forces Lily into shitty beds and hunger. 'Frugality,' they call the abuse."
Yep. Explains the tummy growls despite saintess status, drooling over my jerky. Mine's killer, though.
"My goal: neuter Barneo's hold on her, become her official patron. Foothold to influence the church."
"……Whoa."
Ambition city. Not just disciple love. This lady's swallowing the church whole?
My spine chilled. Too deep now?
Tried pulling back, but she kept going. "And the Crown Prince…"
She toyed with her cup, smirking meaningfully. "For Lily to land him, she needs to keep running like now."
"What? Running?"
"You really…"
She clicked her tongue. "Got your dad's talent, but no experience, theory dunce."
Huh? Inherited from dad?
"Palace Count was exactly like that."
"Not getting it. What'd I inherit? What was Dad like?"
She grinned, treating me like a greenhorn. "You'll get it when you're grown. That tension between man and woman."
"……."
Spitting milf lines, sis.
Anyway. "Time for an answer?"
"After all this? Yeah. But one question."
"Shoot."
"Everything you said—real deal?"
Feels legit, no BS. But confirm. Why dump this on me?
"Of course. Growing on me."
"Married lady—stop flirting."
"You confessed love earlier?"
Why so risky today? "Not love—ode to golden rule."
Ten. Capitalist tongue-lash halted!
"Praise for genius talent."
……Kinda thrilling. Is this tension why the prince chases her? Wanna ask, can't. Too flirty with a married woman.
"Got it. Thanks for the honesty, I'll take the offer."
"Great. Contract guaranteeing those ten gold bars' worth in coins on Lily's graduation day."
"Thanks."
"Shall we?"
No. One more errand. "You go first. Got a stop."
"What for?"
"Picking something up."
Her face lit up mischievously. Pissing me off?
"Jewelry?"
"Nope."
"Cosmetics?"
"Bingo."
"Hmm."
Joy written all over. Didn't know my clown face exploded like this pre-capital.
"No idea what you're imagining, but it's a gift for the head maid. Laugh away."
"Fine, no more teasing. Heading out."
"Yeah. Tea was great."
Muller Viscountess left smiling. And I…
"……What the hell?"
Turning to stand, I caught a woman slyly glancing away.