15. Finance Director Fan Club (Not Really)
15. Finance Director Fan Club (Not Really)
Outside the Finance Director's office.
Crown Prince Zeke emerged from the room and started toward the exit, still haggard and steeped in gloom.
His expression was difficult to read, his thoughts impossible to guess.
Then, still flanked by his retinue, he spoke abruptly.
"Do you now understand why I am doing this?"
"............."
"I am speaking to you. My worthless little sister."
"...I still don't understand, elder brother."
"And that is precisely why I hold no expectations of you."
One of the attendants walking directly behind Crown Prince Zeke.
The one who had been cloaked in a full robe alongside Susanne, who had worn only a half-concealing hood—
quietly released her magic and cast off the robe.
Spilling blonde hair. Amatrius Delphia Beatrice.
"I have never grasped my elder brother's thoughts. In truth, I do not wish to."
"How insolent. You must have walked on eggshells around me back in the Delphia Kingdom."
"Among all my siblings, you were the one who treated me like a human being. And yet you would cast me aside like a worn-out shoe—or suddenly make a point of looking after me. On a whim, as it were."
Beatrice had not wanted to meet Zeke. Not because she hated him, but because his actions were impossible to predict.
It would have been simpler if he had despised or ignored her like the rest of her family. Then she could simply act accordingly. But Crown Prince Zeke was different.
At times he denounced her like any other relative, then suddenly defended her, then seemed to be extending a hand—only to yank her into the abyss.
Because of that unfathomable mind, Beatrice found Zeke more unnerving than any other member of her family.
Today was no exception.
"You arrived at the academy with no notice, disguised Susanne and me as your attendants, and dragged us along. What would you have done if the Finance Director had caught on?"
"It is perfectly natural that he did not. He is merely 1st Rank."
"...That is not inaccurate, but that isn't what I meant."
"I wished to convey my intentions to you and the Finance Director simultaneously, so I chose the most efficient means. This method ensures that even a dim-witted younger sister like you will not waste time suspecting me of lying."
"................"
He was right. Had Zeke summoned her separately and told her his intentions, Beatrice would have doubted him as she always did—wondering what caprice was at work this time.
By disguising her as an attendant and having her attend his meeting with the Finance Director, Zeke had conveyed his intentions beyond any doubt. In a sense, it was indeed efficient.
But that was not how normal people did things. And if Zeke had never been capricious to begin with, Beatrice would have had no reason to doubt him.
Not Zeke in particular.
"You knew I had overcome my chronic illness."
"It is an elder brother's duty to know the affairs of his worthless younger sister."
"Because you ordered me to cast the disguise magic. And yet, what are you thinking? Do you still mean to leave me at the academy?"
"That is correct."
"If our family back home learns that I have overcome my illness."
"You speak of meaningless things. You will not be returning home regardless, and they will never learn of it, so why prattle about a future that will not come to pass? I cannot fathom it."
"...Elder brother."
This. This was why Beatrice could not understand. Was Zeke trying to protect her, or did he truly hold her in nothing but contempt?
Normally, she would have backed down here.
But the Beatrice of now was not that person.
"I know about the situation in our homeland."
"Through the military-stimulant merchant, I take it. The one you introduced to the Finance Director."
"Yes. I heard it from them. That Grand Duke Wiguk might have... turned his coat."
"That is not something you need to know."
"And why is that something I do not need to know? I, too, am royalty of the Delphia Kingdom. Grand Duke Wiguk is the realm's sole 8th Rank—"
"That is precisely why."
In an instant, Zeke's exhaustion-laden gaze fixed upon Beatrice. For the first time in their exchange—Zeke, who never so much as glanced back while speaking—stopped walking and turned his head.
Zeke was publicly known as 5th Rank, but his actual rank was a mere 3rd Rank. A crown prince destined to be king, yet only 3rd Rank? The truth had been falsified so he would not be looked down upon—a common enough practice among nations, so it posed little real issue.
Zeke, then, was 3rd Rank. And Beatrice, having overcome her chronic illness, was an imperfect yet genuine 5th Rank mage. In any contest of presence, she should not have been the one to yield.
And yet.
It was Beatrice who averted her gaze first.
"Even if you know, you remain at the academy, unable to do a thing. So it is better you remain in ignorance. They say ignorance is a sin, but knowledge only breeds pointless worry and lingering attachments."
"................"
"The time will come for you to return home. Wait until then. I have promised the Finance Director a considerable sum, so he will not mistreat you. Keep your head down and polish your magic."
Thud. Thud.
Having finished speaking, Zeke resumed walking without a backward glance.
After a moment's hesitation, Beatrice spoke.
"The day I return home."
".........."
"Will you still be... 'Crown Prince' at that time, elder brother?"
Abruptly.
At those words, spoken with a bitter, almost spat-out edge and carrying far too much meaning,
Susanne and the other attendants quietly shut their ears. This was not a matter they were permitted to hear.
Zeke, who had halted once more, answered.
"Who can say."
"Elder brother."
"You would doubt me no matter what I said, so I shall not trouble myself to answer."
"Elder brother!"
"But if I must answer... yes."
"...That means."
"Do not mistake my meaning. Since you would doubt whatever I said, I merely gave you the words you wished to hear."
"Wait quietly here."
"My worthless little sister."
*
Lively music filled the hall. A chandelier and brilliant lights enveloped the guests as couples took to the center to dance.
The Charity Ball, convened in the wake of the Grandis Academy attack.
It was no exaggeration to call it the first "aristocratic" event the academy had ever opened to outsiders—the academy had long been closed to all but its students.
The Chairwoman had guarded the academy so jealously that she had never even permitted a ball, an occasion that to the nobility was utterly ordinary.
Which meant this might be the last chance. Once the distinguished guests swiftly reached that consensus, matters proceeded smoothly.
"Good evening, Viscount Dalancon. It has been quite some time since that mine development."
"Ha-ha! Baron Michel, it is a relief to see you doing well. The mine we developed together is still operating smoothly."
"I'm glad to hear it. I'd been worried our mistake might have caused a collapse."
"You needn't have worried. Indeed, I ought to offer you a gift to put your mind at ease. How about iron from that very mine?"
"Oh, such a gift—I cannot simply accept. I shall send a modest token of my appreciation."
"Thank you!"
To an outsider it sounded like a friendly exchange, but what was really happening was a discreet iron ore transaction—too awkward to conduct openly, so dressed up in pleasantries.
"How are your investments these days?"
"Don't even ask. By His Majesty Aken Delminos's grace, everything is booming! Except, well..."
"What is it?"
"Profits have dipped slightly. Just slightly. I looked into it, and it was near the County of Claudia. Ahem."
"Ah...! Surely the Margrave is not at fault—perhaps you've simply had poor luck."
"Nothing to be done about it."
Thus they covertly exchanged intelligence about "the County of Claudia"—meaning investments in the Delphia Kingdom were not going well—and so on.
A ball among aristocrats was a forum for trade and intrigue. There were those who purely enjoyed the dancing and music, of course, but they were usually people who had no need to broker deals or forge connections with other nobles.
In other words, they had no need to maneuver at such a gathering.
The guests of guests—the great nobles and royalty—were of that sort.
"Lady Risha, you grow more beautiful by the day. May I present my son..."
"Lady Risha. I wonder if you recall House Baron Kikol? I was fortunate enough to arrange a trade with the Margrave last time, and I had hoped to supply goods again..."
"Lady Risha! It has been far too long! I am Minos of House Count Astra. I hope this occasion may brighten the future of both our territories..."
"Thank you, all of you."
Among the royalty who had graced the ball, however, Crown Prince Zeke of the Delphia Kingdom had disappeared somewhere, and the Kingdom's First Prince had yet to arrive. The nobles' attention naturally converged on the great nobles just below them.
And since many scions of great noble houses attended Grandis Academy, those families mingled with their own factions and the lesser nobles of their neighboring territories.
Among them, the center of attention could only be described as Risha Claudia.
Not merely because House Claudia was the largest of the great noble clans, but because word had spread that Gregory Claudia himself was present at the event.
A chance to catch the eye of both Risha and Gregory at once. Under normal circumstances, even nobles with scant ties to House Claudia flocked to Risha, hoping against hope.
Needless to say, as the crowd swelled, Risha's back grew damp with cold sweat.
"Wait—who was that over there?"
"The second son of Count Gliche."
"Right! And that one? He's been pestering me with trade talk—how do I respond?"
"Emphasize that such matters are ill-suited to this occasion and release a moderate amount of ki. You are 4th Rank, my lady—use that standing appropriately."
"Thank you, head butler."
"It is my pleasure to assist you, Lady Risha."
This was Risha's first event of this kind. For some, it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but for Risha, still unprepared, it was overwhelming.
Speak with one person, and two more immediately accosted her; chat with them, and four more appeared.
The retainers who had accompanied Gregory blocked the nobles' more brazen advances, but the guests had come from across the kingdom, and there were many whom Risha did not know.
She barely managed by leaning on the whispered cues from the head butler and a handful of other servants.
House Claudia was famed as a martial family, so even its servants were warriors of at least 3rd Rank. The head butler, in particular, was 7th Rank, and though he appeared motionless, he could deliver messages directly to Risha's ear through sound transmission.
Thanks to that, Risha somehow navigated the nobility—until she spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
A triumphant expression crossed her features as she strode over.
"Lady Risha?"
"Please wait a moment."
Brusquely cutting off even the noble she had been about to speak to, Risha walked with confident steps toward a silver-haired female student standing alone.
"Rus Spero."
"...Claudia."
"You were nowhere to be seen during final exams, and yet here you are at the ball."
"...Something came up."
Rus's thoroughly indifferent reply made Risha bristle for a moment.
But then she smiled, a smug, self-satisfied smile, and beamed at Rus.
She thought it was a leisurely, composed smile. In reality, it looked rather arrogant.
"Do you remember the entrance ceremony? Isn't this rather similar to that day?"
"............."
"Do you see those nobles behind me? All of them came here to meet me. That is the position I command."
"...And?"
"And is not the point! Ahem. So you will not ignore my greeting this time, will you? I hold grudges, you see."
".........."
It might be called petty, but Risha had never forgotten what happened during the entrance ceremony. After the phantom-monster attack, she had steeled herself and offered Rus a greeting—only to be completely ignored.
Even now, recalling it was a dark history that made her kick her blankets. But this time was different.
The crowd of nobles around her proved her standing so thoroughly that she could declare herself the protagonist of this Charity Ball. No matter how high-and-mighty a 6th Rank might be, Rus could not ignore her here.
Risha, determined to redeem that day's disgrace once and for all—
"...It's coming."
"Something is coming? What suddenly—"
BOOM!!
The entire ballroom shuddered. The guests reeled in shock, but Risha was startled for a rather different reason.
Because the true protagonist of this Charity Ball—the Chairwoman—had just arrived from the sky, straight through the roof.
Even the panicked guests soon collected themselves and gazed at the Chairwoman, who had quite literally dropped out of the heavens.
"My apologies. I was delayed dealing with two idiots who started a commotion at the academy."
Who on earth had the nerve—and the suicidal guts—to start trouble at an academy that had suffered a terrorist attack barely one week ago?
Guessing at the Chairwoman's fury, most of the guests wisely kept their heads down and sneered at the unidentified fools in question.
The two idiots—the Elf Archmage and the Margrave—slipped into the ballroom under the Chairwoman's glare.
Both sported vivid lumps on their foreheads, but since they were also 8th Rank beings, they managed to conceal them passably. Archmage and final survivor of his race or shield of the kingdom—when the Mad Dragon snarled, they had no choice but to bow their heads.
A brief commotion ensued, but in any case.
"You have waited long. Then from this moment."
For an instant, she appeared to pull a slip of paper from her pocket and glance at it, but the motion was so quick the murmuring crowd could not be sure.
Having stolen a quick look at her cheat sheet, the Chairwoman declared:
"Let the Charity Ball begin."
And so it did.
The night of donations and donations and donations commenced.