Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Recruiting for the Security Team (1)
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What makes a good hotel?
Obviously, fantastic facilities and friendly service.
But could people really be satisfied with just great facilities and polite staff?
Imagine two five-star hotels.
One smack in the middle of the bustling downtown, the other right in the heart of Harlem.
Gorgeous exteriors, competent staff, top-tier service.
Even with all that, would anyone bother trekking to the one in the middle of Harlem?
"Ah, sure, there'd be some. The YouTubers filming content."
Those folks live off 'attention,' so they're a special case.
Most people would head to the downtown one instead.
No point risking a bullet on the way there.
That doesn't mean our hotel's in some lawless dump like Harlem.
This is the imperial capital, after all. If security were that bad, I wouldn't be busting my ass with this business—I'd have bolted long ago.
Objectively speaking, the capital is pretty well-maintained.
You don't see the stereotypical 'medieval' messes: crappy sewers, poor hygiene, garbage piled everywhere.
Well, you don't see them much.
They're not entirely gone.
No matter how hard people try to keep things clean, there are limits when humans are involved.
Scumbags who exploit legal loopholes or chase quick profits without a thought for tomorrow exist everywhere.
Thanks to it being the capital, though, most of those types end up as morning dew on the gallows or get summarily executed, heads rolling.
The survivors slink off to spots beyond the public eye, hiding in the shadows like mold fleeing the sun.
"Back alleys exist everywhere. Even in the imperial capital."
The guys Sion took care of the other day were probably back-alley operators.
If they were bold enough to post guards openly on the streets, word would have gotten around.
Moths to a flame for the right price.
They know they're disposable pawns but charge in anyway.
Brainless thugs who don't think past the moment.
"No hard evidence, though, for now..."
Even those shadow-dwellers have their bare-minimum rules.
One wrong step, and they're all swept away—so a simple rule born of fear keeps them in line.
That's the only reason the capital's security guards or knight orders don't bother rooting them out.
It's not that they can't; it's just that the cost of doing so outweighs the hassle.
Not impossible, just not worth it.
Give them an excuse—or even just the mood—and they could wipe those stains clean in a heartbeat.
That's the precarious spot the capital's back alleys occupy.
Knowing that, even the dayfly thugs don't step into the light recklessly.
Which means the ones tailing me and Arselia on our weekend date have backing.
"Not much of a threat, but I can't just sit back and watch."
I checked the message from the upscale bar in the hotel basement and stood up.
"Not that I want to, either."
It was Delpi's shift, my break time—but as owner, duty calls.
"It'd be great if we could find someone solid for the open security slots..."
The door slid open silently, and as I stepped out, Sion draped my coat over my shoulders.
I'd told her to clock out like me and rest, but she'd come back already.
"We need to hire staff quick so you can catch a real break."
"It's my duty assisting you, young master. No hardship at all—don't worry."
"I'm the one feeling sorry watching you."
I swept back my hair and boarded the elevator waiting in the lobby.
"Let's go. Time to network."
The Everglow Hotel is a massive fifteen-story structure.
Excluding the Magic Tower on the city's outskirts and the Imperial Palace in the center, it's the tallest building in the capital.
Even before the official opening, people couldn't help but take notice.
You might not plan to stay, but who wouldn't be curious about a building that tall going up?
The invite-only preview party for winners of the lottery drew crowds.
Reviews varied, but one thing everyone agreed on: the night view of the capital from the windows was breathtaking.
Thanks to the floor-to-ceiling glass on one side, the cityscape was crystal clear—like the night sky's stars transplanted below.
They all raved about how it felt like strolling above the clouds.
Some dismissed it as hype, but most were intrigued enough to flock over and check it out.
The hotel saw visitors around the clock.
And once there, they didn't just gawk and leave—the basement bar drew crowds just like the upper-floor event halls.
"So, you heard the rumors too?"
"Rumors? The capital's buzzing with a dozen of 'em these days."
The middle-aged man lightly swirled his iced glass and sipped.
The chilled, potent liquor burned down his throat, warming his gut. He savored the alcohol's aroma with a deep, guttural "Kuhhh."
"Y'know, that guest who showed up in the lobby a while back."
"Guest? Hmm... who? The mage lady from the Magic Tower who begged the guy to come out just once?"
"Nah, not her! The one in armor!"
"Armor? Oh, oh! That one. Black armor, right? The one who brought a whole herd of horses and struggled to feed 'em hay?"
"No, not black! Silver armor!"
"Ah..."
His colleague's face shifted through a whirlwind of expressions as he glanced around warily.
Like he was terrified the subject of their chat might be lurking nearby.
"You're ruining the vibe—why bring that up now?"
"Ruining it? Nothing pairs with drinks like hot gossip."
He downed the rest in big gulps, wiping the dribble from his lips.
"And if that rumor guest was a stunning beauty? Even better, right?"
His colleague leaned in, hooked, whispering low.
"A woman? So the one in silver armor and helmet... was a lady?"
"Yep! And not just pretty—an absolute knockout."
"Heh, if even you, lover boy, says so, she must've been something. Spill—what'd she look like?"
"Couldn't tell about the chest under that armor... but her face. Man."
He popped the last snack into his mouth and continued.
"That snowy silver hair was killer."
"Huh? Silver hair?"
"Yeah! Pure as moonlight, gleaming white."
"...Were her eyes blue by any chance?"
"Whoa, how'd you guess? Famous beauty, huh? And that nose—perfectly sharp! Lashes so long..."
His colleague's face drained of color, clamping a hand over the man's mouth.
He whipped his head around, pale with fear that others had overheard, then sighed heavily.
"Are you insane...!"
"Pffft! What's with the freakout? You know her?"
"Know her? You really have no clue?"
"Clue about what? I said she was drop-dead gorgeous."
"Tsk!"
He raised a finger to his lips for silence, then cautiously pointed to the bar's corner.
Wondering what the fuss was about, the man followed the finger—and spotted snowy white hair.
Glowing ethereally under the bar's dreamy lights.
"...!"
Luckily, her back was turned, no eye contact—but that hair color was unmistakable.
She seemed to be drinking alone, perched straight-backed on the high stool.
Without the armor from that day, he hadn't recognized her at first.
The basement's hazy lighting—or maybe designed for this vibe—had hidden her before.
"How long's she been here?"
"Around your third drink, when you started slurring? Slipped in and sat quietly."
"Whoa..."
Even so, he ordered another round and leaned back, staring at the swaying white hair.
Slender, pale fingers occasionally glided gracefully into view.
"You're not getting any funny ideas, are you?"
"Huh? Nah, what... I mean."
"You don't know the rumor?"
"What rumor?"
"They say knights with hair so white it's like moonlit silver—indistinguishable from pure white—and ice-blue eyes serve the Imperial Family."
"Whoa, that's totally that girl!"
"Exactly her! But do you know who they belong to?"
"Who? Some duke's secret harem of beauties?"
"...Rumors say they're blood of the Imperial Family."
"What...?"
Blinking in disbelief, he stared at his colleague, who was sweating bullets and whispering.
"So quit the dumb thoughts and let's drink up and head out nice and quiet...!"
Didn't sound like a joke.
Talk linking to the 'Imperial Family' could cost your head if mishandled.
No one jokes about that.
The words sobered him like a splash of cold water; he slammed back his glass and staggered up.
"I-I'm heading up first."
"Wait, me too!"
As the two fumbled gold coins onto the table and bolted, a tall young man descended the stairs.
"Hm? Some emergency?"
"Probably remembered something urgent mid-drink."
"Haha, makes sense why they're sprinting then. Still, dangerous—maybe post signs saying 'No Running'?"
"Good idea. I'll prepare them."
"Not too big—keep it subtle, just noticeable."
The young man scanned the bar, spotted his target, straightened his tie, and approached.
The seat next to the lone white-haired beauty in the corner, sipping her drink.
He pulled out the chair with a creak and sat, flashing a smile.
Julian met the gaze of the white-haired knight from the Shadow Moon Squad as she turned.
"Is the alcohol to your taste?"