Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Everyone Has a Plan
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“Ughhh... my back...!”
“Ugh, my head feels like it's splitting. Give me some water from over there...”
Morning sunlight filtered through the slightly open window, but all that filled the room were groans of misery.
The inn room bore the unmistakable traces of a night of passionate lovemaking.
Empty liquor bottles rolled across the floor, and the plates that had held snacks were left with nothing but crumbs.
The air still carried a lingering, fishy, sticky scent.
Tap tap. After fumbling several times for the water pitcher by the bed.
The man finally seized it and gulped down the water, letting out a long “Haaa” as if he could finally breathe.
He pulled the blanket back over the woman, who was too weak to get up and kept groaning, then rose and opened the window.
“Mm...”
Whether blinded by the sunlight or not, he closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. Leaning his arms on the windowsill to savor the fresh outdoor air, he watched as the woman on the bed groaned and pushed herself up.
“Ughhh... See? I told you we went too hard last night...”
Watching her stretch languidly with her hips raised like a cat, then drape the blanket over her shoulders, the man chuckled.
“Did I go at it alone? Who was the one clinging to me saying how good it felt?”
“What? Already so chipper this morning?”
“Of course. Adventurers need to be healthy and strong. I'll get dressed first, so take your time coming down.”
“Don't go. Hug me a little.”
“Can't do that, or we won't make it out today. Forgot? We're going shopping for clothes together today.”
“Oh, right! That's today!”
As if suddenly remembering, she flung off the blanket and tried to leap out of bed, only to collapse again with a sharp cry.
“Ughhh... my back...”
The man, who had already pulled on his pants and was slipping into his shirt, smoothed down the tangled fabric and approached.
He extended his hand as if to say grab on, and when she took it, he scooped her up princess-style in one smooth motion and set her down on a chair.
“I'll grab your clothes, so just wait a sec. Where'd we leave them last night?”
“You threw them away. How could you not know, Kyle, you idiot?”
“Oh, this? Yeah, this is it, right?”
Kyle tossed her the clothes and headed out of the room.
“I'll be downstairs.”
He descended to the first floor, claimed a reasonably spacious table, and sat down, yawning and scratching his head.
A moment later, the crimson-haired woman shuffled down, gripping the stair railing, and plopped down in front of him.
“Haa, I think I'll feel better after resting a bit.”
“That bad, Luca?”
“You crushed me with your body weight...!”
He stuffed a piece of freshly bought warm bread into her growling mouth and asked,
“So, head out right away?”
She chewed it down in seconds and replied.
“If we go late, the good stuff might be gone. Since we're heading out anyway, let's grab food outside too.”
“Sounds good.”
“Whoa!”
Due to their significant height difference, he effortlessly scooped Luca into a princess carry and stepped out onto the street.
He took her light punches protesting to be put down and soon arrived at the clothing shop.
“Wow, so many people. The line here isn't usually this long.”
“Probably all here for ‘that.’ Looks like fellow adventurers like us.”
Kyle exchanged knowing nods and glances with familiar faces before setting Luca down.
Not long after, they made it inside the shop.
“Welcome! Looking for anything in particular?”
A neatly dressed clerk greeted them.
Kyle noted the shiny brooch on her chest emblazoned with “EG” and said,
“Yeah, we got invited to that banquet in a couple weeks...”
“Ah, the one at the hotel? Right this way, please.”
Following the clerk, who guided them with practiced ease, they saw a waiting area filled with adventurers of various sorts—much like themselves.
Most weren't your average greenhorns; they were seasoned ones with some notable achievements under their belts.
“Please wait just a moment while we measure and fit you. Do you have your ‘invitation’ with you?”
The clerk nodded after checking Luca's invitation from her pocket and handed over something.
“Invitation verified! You'll get a discount, so please take a look at these designs!”
“This is...?”
“For couples, we match your outfits! The owner said sketches are better than descriptions for this sort of thing.”
The clerk stepped away after they requested selections during the wait, leaving them with a catalog of couple looks—and drawing plenty of stares.
“...” “...”
Looking around again, they noticed everyone else was alone. Keeping quiet, they exchanged glances to decide on a design.
Warm lighting. Tables of the finest wood, not flashy but luxurious.
Red carpet on the floor. Chandeliers sparkling in the light.
A silver-haired—no, platinum-haired—man slowly toured the hotel interior, now filling up in earnest.
“Hmm... quite impressive.”
“We're honored by your approval. At least this humble place didn't offend His Highness's eyes.”
It was Alistair, the third prince—the emperor's own blood.
Hair like moonlight captured in strands. Icy blue eyes that could freeze you solid.
To the unfamiliar, that aura alone would crush them, leaving them speechless under the weight of his imperial status.
Not me, though.
“Still got that silver tongue of yours.”
We've known each other for years now.
Not like the first time, but at this point? We've seen it all—good, bad, and ugly.
I even cleaned up after him when he puked on the floor drunk.
He spoke with exasperation, but his lips curved up—he was in a good mood today.
His sulk from before must've blown over.
“Isn't a smooth tongue the top virtue for a businessman?”
“Hah, if the palace fools were half like you...”
Tsk. He clicked his tongue and moved on.
Arselia and I followed a few steps behind, keeping him in sight.
Yes, Arselia and I.
A glance sideways showed her maintaining a straight face that had softened into a slight smile.
Her lips quivered faintly—obvious acting, but whatever...
“You okay?”
“VIP, sure—but you didn't say royal blood was coming...!”
“Well... if it's our hotel's VIP, wouldn't it mean someone higher up than just a big investor?”
“...Still, a heads-up would've been nice.”
“You know he hates formalities.”
We whispered as we trailed the prince, who prowled the not-yet-officially-open hotel like it was his own.
Last time, he'd sent a subordinate saying to meet in a week—never guessed where.
Then yesterday: “His liege wishes to see you at your new venture.”
We rushed to finish walls and floors, crammed furniture into my future office.
Guest rooms could wait; I needed one to receive visitors.
“Hmm, this your office?”
Just in case, I'd left every door open.
He strode right into my would-be office, hands in pockets, admiring it with a nod.
Unlike the ornate lobby and halls, I'd gone modern and simple—easy on the eyes amid all the flash.
“Prefer this, actually. Palace too, all that gaudiness distracts the mind.”
He ran a hand over the desk with a swish, nodded, and flopped into the prepared chair.
My custom-ordered one!
But worth the price—it creaked back smoothly, then righted itself forward.
“Ho... fun gadget. Where'd you get it?”
“Custom-made, so probably not for sale.”
“Yeah? Who made it?”
“Heh, want one? I'll make His Highness one too.”
“Sure... have one ready. I'll send for it later.”
“Size a bit smaller than mine?”
He reclined with a creak, gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully before saying,
“Smaller than this.”
“Got it. Any color preference?”
“Black, like yours. Time for a new office chair anyway.”
“Leave it to me. Might take time, but you'll love it.”
Still half-reclined, he crooked a finger to beckon me.
I approached with my best sales smile and bowed politely.
“Anything else you need?”
Alistair stared straight at me, then pulled something from his breast pocket.
It was rolled up tight. Friends or not—even close ones—royalty's royalty.
I knelt swiftly, receiving it reverently with both hands.
Normally, you'd drone through his titles and cheer three “long lives”—but he'd probably sock me, so skipped.
Right call—he nodded, flicking his hand for me to check.
Our prince seemed more taken with my spinning custom “chairman chair.”
Unrolling it carefully revealed a fancy-script document packed with text.
Arselia, kneeling beside me, gasped.
“Y-Your Highness, this is...?”
“Haven't opened officially yet, right?”
“Yes, about four months... no, three? Around there.”
“Brought this to keep you out of trouble till then. Imperial seal and all—read it.”
Spin spin.
He toured the room corners from the chair, then stopped with a thunk, leaning forward to meet my eyes.
“Got high hopes for you personally. You know that?”
“Haha, how could I not know Your Highness's grace is vast as the sea?”
He sighed and stood.
Patting my shoulder to rise, I did so carefully. He gripped it and spoke.
“Not joking. I really expect big things from you.”
“Like up till now?”
“Exactly. Just like now. Keep doing what you've been doing. That's all I want. Got it?”
The lazy prince who hates ceremonies, complications, pomp.
Stepped back from throne wars, rarely leaves his palace.
A bit childish, fussy, but never crosses lines.
“Need a private retreat sometime? VIP His Highness gets a room reserved ‘exclusively’ anytime.”
We'd crossed paths somehow; years of face-time now.
...And I knew his backstory from the webtoon's final chapter—pre-reincarnation.
So this much is proper.
Gotta pay for that imperial-sealed business permit in my hand.
“Hah, love how fast we talk, you and me.”
He grinned, clapped my shoulder, and exited.
Arselia and I hurried after to see him off.
His escort knights waited outside; he boarded the carriage and vanished.
Like the wind coming and going—true to form.
“Good work, sis.”
I patted the shoulder of Arselia, who looked utterly spaced out beside me.
“That document...”
“Oh, this? Keeping it ultra-safe. Framed, even.”
“Huh?”
“...Gonna ask my mage second bro for a spell.”
“Ah, that should do it.”
Her tension finally easing, she let out a long sigh. I took her cold hand—stress must've hit hard.
“Good work, young master.”
Sion returned after tidying up outside with the escorts.
“The knights seemed quite interested.”
His Highness's elite guards from noble houses. Couldn't just leave them standing—told her chairs and drinks. She handled it well.
“Anyway... call it a day and grab dinner?”
Sion looked beat too and nodded with Arselia.
“I'll call the carriage.”
Sion fetched our morning ride, while Arselia crouched down.
Hands on knees, staring blankly at the sky—mental drain must've been huge.
“Haa, every day with you is a new adventure, young master.”
“Big success ain't easy. But meeting the prince tops the shock scale, right?”
“True. What could top this?”
“Just power through preview prep, sis.”
We clocked out right after and enjoyed a pleasant dinner.
Next week, we picked furniture for guest rooms, preps proceeding smoothly.
Yeah, nothing as intense as meeting the prince, right?
...Right?