Grand Opening (5): The Duke's Witty Speech and Human Racing
As the spectacular sight of multicolored magical smoke painting the sky only to be purified beneath the Saintess’s benevolent blessing finally ended, thunderous applause and cheers erupted from the stands. Mikhail watched the scene with deep satisfaction from behind the stage. Worth every coin. The money poured into the magic performance didn’t feel like a waste at all. Of course, since the Saintess’s blessing had been free, the cost-effectiveness was so overwhelmingly superior that comparison was pointless.
Sequencing the two events back-to-back had been a stroke of genius. Snaring everyone’s attention with dazzling magic and then sealing the experience with a sacred miracle, even wiping away the lingering afterimage—it was a flawless combo. Efficient and effective beyond measure.
“Everyone, please direct your attention! The organizer of today’s event, the master of our Far East Maritime Province, and the visionary architect behind this colossal Tourism Special Zone! His Highness the Seventh Prince Mikhail will now grace us with a few words!”
Laura’s voice, amplified by voice-projection magic, rang across the entire plaza from center stage. Every eye in the crowd swung toward the back of the stage. Mikhail lightly adjusted his clothes and strode toward the podium. As he passed her, Laura shot him a look brimming with worry—an urgent plea not to cause any trouble. Mikhail responded with a playful wink. Laura’s head snapped away so fast it was almost comical. She retreated to the edge of the stage with quick, prim steps, pretending nothing had happened. But Mikhail saw it: the golden tail standing ramrod straight behind her.
He swallowed the laughter threatening to spill out and took his place at the center of the podium.
Whoaaaaaa—!
The crowd’s cheers exploded once more. Mikhail offered a gentle smile, savoring their enthusiasm for a moment. Then he slowly opened his mouth, using the stiff, formal speech that never quite sat right on his tongue. He had no choice. On the far side of the stands sat his pushover—no, his kind older brother Clement. Behind the stage loomed the prickly, cynical Saintess. The Albrecht Ducal House’s razor-sharp glares were terrifying enough, but the Saintess’s Holy Punch was on another level entirely.
“Distinguished guests. I offer my heartfelt gratitude for gracing this modest event I have prepared with your precious presence.”
Mikhail bowed as deeply and sincerely as he could manage.
“You have all experienced our Tourism Special Zone over the past several days. What are your thoughts?”
He lifted his head and addressed the crowd. A brief silence fell. Mikhail grinned slyly and continued.
“Honestly, even I think I did a pretty good job. Where else in the entire Empire could you find a resort of this caliber?”
His shameless self-praise drew scattered bursts of laughter from the stands. The atmosphere softened considerably.
“Though it may be presumptuous, I have one small request for all of you.”
Mikhail paused, then fixed his gaze on Clement seated far away in the stands.
“If you enjoyed your time here, please spread that joy to your friends and family when you return. And especially…” He trailed off meaningfully. “Please tell His Imperial Majesty that this Mikhail has finally come to his senses and is working this hard.”
The stands dissolved into another sea of laughter.
“I do not ask him to lift my exile from the capital,” Mikhail said, waving a hand. “However, I would be grateful if you could mention repealing that outdated law prohibiting the import of luxury goods on trains bound for the Far East Maritime Province. I am quite fond of the ‘Mikhail’ brand I created, but I would also love to try the wines of Gallia, the brandies of Champagne, the whiskeys of Alba, and…” He reached out playfully toward Clement. “The beer from the Albrecht Duchy—my beloved older brother’s maternal family.”
The crowd roared with laughter. Clement shook his head with an expression that said he was utterly hopeless, yet his face glowed with satisfaction.
Success.
By now the Saintess behind the stage, Laura standing in the corner, and even the usually expressionless Josepina were probably all stifling smiles. Mikhail concluded his speech with a satisfied grin.
“Please enjoy the playground I have built to your hearts’ content. And please visit us often in the future. Thank you.”
When he stepped down from the stage, Laura returned to the center. She tried—and failed—to hide the lingering amusement in her voice as she called out brightly.
“Everyone, please pay attention!”
All eyes focused on the stage once more.
“In just a moment! A very special track-and-field event, created exclusively by our Far East Maritime Province Tourism Special Zone to heighten your enjoyment!”
She took a deep breath and shouted with all her strength.
More than the murmurs of the guests, what caught Mikhail’s eye was Laura’s tail. Despite her confident, powerful tone, her golden tail hung limply, trembling with embarrassment. The sight was so adorable that a broad smile spread across Mikhail’s face.
Soon after, Laura, Mikhail, and Josepina descended from the stage and took their seats in the specially prepared VIP section. The moment they sat down, burly laborers began hauling various materials onto the racetrack.
Crash! Bang! Thud!
With practiced hands they assembled steel frameworks and laid down wooden platforms. Mages slipped between them, drawing intricate magic circles on the ground and chanting spells. In moments, bizarrely shaped obstacles erupted from the earth.
Crackle… Rumble…!
Giant rocks and massive logs writhed upward like living creatures. It was over in the blink of an eye. The once-empty track had transformed into an obstacle course reminiscent of the American Ninja Warrior or SASUKE episodes Mikhail remembered from TV.
Once the course was complete, a famous announcer specially invited from the capital’s central racetrack ascended the platform that doubled as a commentary booth. A smooth, practiced stream of player introductions flowed from his lips. Most were hardened laborers from the Far East Maritime Province—dockworkers, loggers, farmers, fishermen, miners. They looked rough and unrefined, but every one of them possessed a body forged by grueling physical labor.
When the introductions ended and betting time arrived, staff began circulating through the stands distributing betting slips. Mikhail picked up the sheet placed before him. Dozens of betting options were printed in tiny letters.
“Hmm… I really can’t decide who to bet on,” Mikhail muttered slyly, glancing at Laura beside him. “What about you?”
“I…” Laura’s voice still carried clear dissatisfaction. “Why on earth did you name it ‘Human Racing’?” She frowned. “Would it have killed you to just call it an ‘Obstacle Running Competition’?”
The key is shock value and stimulation, Mikhail thought to himself. A plain old obstacle running event would never capture people’s attention. But Human Racing? That’s different. It has that lowbrow, barbaric feel. That thrilling sense of brushing against a taboo. People go crazy for exactly that kind of thing.
Still, there was no need to explain modern marketing theory to them. It would only sound boring and pretentious. And above all… it was a hassle.
“Because it’s fun?” Mikhail shrugged.
“Haa…” A deep sigh escaped Laura. Her ears twitched irritably.
In truth, the ‘Human Racing’ Mikhail had first envisioned had been far more vicious and provocative—a death game where debtors were forced onto narrow steel beams or planks and made to push each other off. But he had scrapped the idea. The reason was simple. Aside from Laura’s fierce opposition, such a thing would have zero impact in this world anyway.
To nobles, commoners aren’t really people—they’re basically pets or livestock, aren’t they?
In a world like that, who would bat an eye if a few criminals or debtors died? The reason Kaiji’s human racing had been so shocking was because it took place in modern Earth, where the concept of ‘human rights’ was common sense. The taboo against harming others to save oneself made the transgression shine. But this place was different. Following the original novel’s descriptions, the ‘romantic’ nobles of this world included people who held literal human hunts or hosted drug-fueled orgies. Trying to run a half-baked death game in front of those people would only earn ridicule for being childish. He’d be lucky if he only got scolded and dragged before the Emperor to be lectured about dignity and decorum. The Church might even issue an excommunication order, calling it forbidden gladiatorial combat. In the original story, those caught doing ‘human hunting’ had indeed been excommunicated. The drug orgies… well, they mostly just generated some scandal and were quietly overlooked. Truly the pinnacle of ‘romance.’
Anyway, Mikhail himself had zero interest in human hunting.
The people who enjoy that stuff are just plain insane. You could maybe forgive someone like the Emperor of Efficiency or Washizu as having slightly sadistic eccentric hobbies, but human hunting? No thanks.
“That is irrelevant.”
Josepina, who had been quietly scanning her betting slip, spoke up. Her voice was as cold and dry as ever.
“The true purpose of this event is not to offer simple win, place, or quinella bets like traditional horse racing. It is to introduce and test the segmented betting system His Highness has designed for the Toto business.”
Josepina’s finger pointed to a section of the slip.
First contestant to fall into the water?
First contestant to get caught in the net?
Contestant who slips more than twice at Obstacle 3?
…and many more detailed propositions.
“However,” Laura said, still sounding skeptical, “I’m still not sure this is wise. What if we get stamped by His Majesty again for promoting excessive gambling, just like with the gacha last time?”
Mikhail clapped his hands as if he had just remembered.
“Ah, did I forget to mention this?” he said casually. “After we run this for a little while, I’m handing the entire business over to the Treasury. In other words, to His Imperial Majesty.”
“…Pardon?”
“…What?”
Laura and Josepina’s mouths fell open at the same time. Their eyes shook violently as if an earthquake had struck. Their expressions said this was the last thing they had expected. Which made sense—they had prepared the grand opening, drafted the plans, received approvals, and executed everything without him ever once mentioning this.
“I never planned to operate this long-term from the beginning,” Mikhail explained. “No one hates having money flow into their own pockets. Besides, if their son—the former worthless drunkard, no less—creates such a magnificent business and offers it up on a silver platter, His Majesty would have to grant me a substantial share just to save face, wouldn’t he?”
In the long run, operating a gambling business like this required ‘weight’ and ‘credibility’ above all else. Mikhail currently lacked both. But the nation—the imperial family—was different. Therefore, growing it appropriately and handing it over—the so-called ‘exit’—was the smartest move.
Isn’t that how all startups make their money?
On top of that, he would gain political protection as a bonus. There was no reason to feel reluctant at all.
“The gacha…” Josepina was the first to recover. Her blue eyes quickly regained their sharp light. “The gacha could not have been handled this way. The very mechanism of offering prizes made it unsuitable for state operation. We were able to grant drawing rights under the ‘Mikhail’ label, but what would the nation use to distribute such rights? What prizes could they possibly offer?”
“Exactly,” Laura added, half-joking. “It’s not as if they could include gacha coupons as a free gift with government bonds… Besides, our gacha was ultimately a promotional event disguised as a complimentary gift, so it had proper justification. What justification could the nation possibly offer for running gacha?”
“This segmented Toto system is indeed different from the gacha,” Josepina concluded. “It is perfectly suited for the state to manage and operate, just like lotteries or horse racing. It will proceed exactly as Your Highness planned.”
“Mm-hmm. Yes, yes.” Mikhail nodded in satisfaction. “It’s only natural, since your lord and master is a super-genius, handsome member of the imperial family.”
At his arrogant tone, Josepina simply nodded along. Laura, however, looked at him with an awkward smile. She clearly wanted to refute him, but since every word was true—and he was her superior—she seemed unable to open her mouth.
“By the way,” Mikhail said, turning his gaze back to the betting slip. “The deadline’s almost here. Who should I actually bet on?”
He asked the question with genuine contemplation. Most likely, every single guest in the stands was thinking the exact same thing.