The Noble Exchange (2)
About half a day had passed since we set off for the imperial capital in the carriage driven by Dietmeier.
“We have arrived, Young Master Ethan. Miss Lilith.”
True to the skill of the butler leading it, the Blackwood family carriage carrying Ethan and me reached the imperial villa well ahead of schedule.
A murmur of voices drifted in from outside the carriage. I peeked through the curtain to take a look, and young ladies in dresses clearly chosen to catch a man's eye drifted into view.
“Hmm, I don't see him here yet.”
“Who? That Hero fellow?”
“No. Prince McHeart. It would be a problem if the Hero doesn't attend, of course, but what matters most is whether Prince McHeart shows up.”
If my plan had somehow leaked out midway, things would have gotten very troublesome from that point on. Not that I thought it had—everyone involved knew how to keep their mouths shut.
“He'll be inside, surely. Or he'll show up fashionably late, like last time.”
“…Probably. With that prince, arriving late does seem the likelier bet.”
Even as I agreed with Ethan, my heart refused to settle. After all, I was here to stake my life on a decisive battle with McHeart.
Every time I imagined whose blood would soon stain the black-and-red dress I wore, anxiety crept back in no matter how I tried to push it down. My plan only extended to luring McHeart in—whether we could actually bring him down was something I wouldn't know until the battle itself began.
And no sign of that Guwon-sonae bastard or Serista either. Agnes will come with the Hero, so….
…Well, we did arrive earlier than expected. Once we went in and secured our seats, it would be easy enough to watch for McHeart and the others as they arrived.
With that thought, I stopped peering at the scenery beyond the curtain, accepted Dietmeier's bow, and stepped down from the carriage.
“I hope you enjoy yourselves, Young Master Ethan. Miss Lilith.”
“We will.”
“Thank you, Dietmeier.”
“I shall return for you tomorrow morning.”
Leaving the receding Blackwood carriage behind, Ethan and I entered the banquet hall of the villa's annex—and immediately I felt the gazes of countless nobles converge on Ethan at my side.
As expected of the heir of House Blackwood, he drew the eyes of the young ladies like no one else.
“Oh, is that—?”
“…Surely not, Lord Blackwood?”
The young ladies who had been milling about near the entrance as if waiting for someone stirred noticeably at Ethan's appearance. They were probably surprised that someone as earnest as Ethan had joined a social gathering with such an unsavory reputation.
The person they'd been waiting for was likely McHeart, not Ethan—but honestly, Ethan was no slouch in that department either.
…No, really. Looks-wise, Ethan was actually more handsome than McHeart. Add his character and swordsmanship on top, and there was nothing more to say. Yep.
Which meant that some of those young ladies might well have changed their minds on the spot, setting aside the fiercely contested McHeart and setting their sights on Ethan instead. Not that Ethan was in any state to be accepting anyone's affections right now—and if anything like that did happen, I'd swat them all away myself.
“And the lady beside him….”
“Rosewood, isn't it…? Lord Blackwood's fiancée….”
“Why would an engaged couple attend an exchange like this?”
“Don't tell me they've grown tired of each other and plan to… 'swap partners'….”
They were muttering outright rude things among themselves, but I wasn't stupid enough to march over and put a stop to it. The moment you show your face at an event like this, you'd better be prepared to overhear exactly that kind of talk.
If anything, I was more worried about Ethan. If he got worked up or flustered by such vulgar chatter, it would cause problems in more ways than one.
Fortunately, perhaps thanks to the conversation we'd had in the carriage, Ethan paid little mind to the gossip and walked into the banquet hall with me.
Going by the entrance crowd, the gender ratio is roughly six to four, women outnumbering men—so McHeart is almost certainly attending this exchange….
Even in the world of an eroge, the lustier sex was, generally speaking, men, not women.
So attendance at an exchange with such debauched purposes would normally skew male—but whether McHeart attended the noble exchange changed that equation considerably.
For the noble young ladies who enjoyed a 'one-night fling,' a single night with McHeart was the stuff of dreams.
Handsome, yes—but beyond that, once a man reached a certain threshold, he'd seduce women regardless of their station. And however far down the line of succession he sat, he was still royalty at heart. That alone let him monopolize the adoration of countless women.
That didn't mean men hated an exchange McHeart attended, though. Say a hundred women showed up hoping to somehow get a night with him—even McHeart couldn't embrace that many in a single night.
Rather, the inverted gender ratio meant there was no shortage of noble heirs who came to prey on the innocent young ladies who'd come chasing McHeart—or just the careless ones.
…Well, they say the actual Middle Ages were even more debauched than this.
At least there was no incest in this world, thank goodness. And every woman destined to be a heroine was a virgin, with exactly one exception.
…Ugh, the more I think about it, the angrier I get. McHeart isn't even the protagonist—how many of the young ladies' maidenheads has that bastard taken? The fact that he single-handedly raised the non-virgin ratio in that damned game alone makes me want to….
With those thoughts swirling, we stepped into the main hall where the noble exchange was being held—and the scene there was a spectacle in its own right.
About half of the men and women who'd arrived early had already paired off and were wandering about, and half of those were already going at it, kissing and pawing at each other like there was no tomorrow.
Smooch.
Mwah, mwaaah.
Some couples were 'relatively' wholesome, stealing quiet kisses away from prying eyes—while others couldn't have cared less who was watching, openly slamming their lips together and radiating heat for all the hall to see.
“Nnh, haaah….”
There were even couples who'd already retreated to a corner of the hall to enjoy their own private time. Coming face to face with the true nature of the noble scions meant to lead the empire's future, I nearly shed tears of emotion.
With this lot making up the majority, no wonder the Academy needs generational turnover.
Setting aside my appreciation of couples who'd likely be walking the road to noble ruin within a generation or two, Ethan and I took seats at a modest standing table along one wall.
For reference: a small round table meant two people, a slightly larger one meant more. And more people, naturally, meant a more debauched night of play.
We had zero intention of getting entangled with other nobles by attending an event like this, and given the operation to take down McHeart, mingling would only get in the way—so of course Ethan and I faced each other at a small table. At that choice, a few of the men who'd been drilling holes into my chest with their stares openly wore expressions of disappointment.
“……”
Smack.
Ethan, too, had clearly noticed the gazes that had gathered on me—and that hadn't all been retracted—because he quietly took my hand and gripped it tight. He was slowly realizing, from the atmosphere radiating through the hall, exactly what kind of stable he'd wandered into.
While scanning the banquet hall to confirm whether our operation partners besides McHeart had properly arrived, one figure caught my eye: a brown-haired young lady seated alone at the largest round table, plainly visible to everyone.
Was it Evelyn? Sibellen? Something like that, I thought, but I couldn't remember exactly.
The biggest reason was simple: memorizing the heroines' and main characters' names was already a pain—I had no desire to also memorize the name of some side-character slut.
Still, she's one of McHeart's flags. If she's here, he probably is too.
For reference, that enormous round table seated roughly ten to twelve people, and every time this debauched noble exchange was held, it served as McHeart's reserved seat.
And only someone with serious backing could brazenly claim that table in advance—which was exactly the kind of privilege enjoyed by the girl I thought of as 'that loose woman, Evelyn.' She was, in Luminor Academy, McHeart's fiancée.
Daughter of the Pinkheart Ducal House. The very woman who had corrupted McHeart into a demon-kin, and a subordinate of the Succubus Queen.
She was one of the few who knew McHeart's secret and served as the go-between linking him to the demon-kin—which meant even McHeart couldn't treat the Pinkheart girl carelessly. And the women who spent a night with McHeart already took her inclusion in their beds as a matter of course. Hence her confidence.
Incidentally, she was also the reason McHeart had been luring women so indiscriminately. A succubus could drain essence from women just as easily as from men. In other words, a bisexual.
Explained this way, you might wonder why her relationships with men weren't exclusive to McHeart—but when a title comes with the descriptor 'loose woman' attached, there's usually a reason for it.
Just then, a noble heir quietly approached that slut of a woman, and I caught a snippet of their conversation.
“Lady Pinkheart, might you have a moment now?”
“…Hmm? My darling will be here soon, so I can't take long.”
“Then with your mouth—ah, no, even your hand would do.”
“Oh?”
“…Yes. Please.”
“Fine, I'll use my mouth. In five minutes, come to the ladies' restroom on the third floor. If you have a friend, you may bring one more. You have about that much time.”
“…Thank you, my lady.”
Just from eavesdropping, I felt my stomach turn—a queasy, gut-churning sensation, as befitting a former unicorn purist.
Thank the heavens that woman is actually a demon-kin. If she'd been a heroine of Luminor Academy… ugh, god.