Chapter 77: The Sleep Resistance Contest
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 77: The Sleep Resistance Contest
Stifled by the heavy atmosphere, Tilda swallowed her greeting mid-sentence and stepped aside.
From that moment on, Ferda didn't spare her a single glance.
Flushing a deep crimson at the humiliating treatment, Tilda beat a hasty retreat. Stephan, having witnessed the entire exchange, turned to Ferda with a wry expression.
"Did you happen to overhear what she was saying?"
"What are you referring to?"
"She was mocking the exhibits... wondering if they’d even turn a profit."
"Is that so?"
Ferda’s expression remained indifferent. He truly hadn't heard her; he simply hadn't cared to.
"Then why were you so cold to her?" Stephan pressed. He wanted to know the reason. Unless someone had overheard her snobbish remarks, people were rarely hostile to Tilda upon their first meeting. After all, she was a beauty who took after their mother.
"I didn't intend to be harsh at first. But after seeing her, I changed my mind."
"In what way?"
"Her eyes. They were repulsive."
"Her eyes? What about them...?"
"Your sister is the type who isn't satisfied unless she’s holding everyone’s leash, isn’t she?"
Stephan’s eyes widened. "H-how did you know that?"
"Because she has exactly those kinds of eyes."
Ferda had hated countless people in his time. To fuel that hatred, he had learned to categorize human types, and certain traits remained vividly etched in his mind. Tilda Pascal was the type Ferda loathed most: those with greed that far outstripped their meager abilities—those who tried to manipulate others like toys in the palm of their hand.
Marveling at the fact that Ferda had seen through Tilda’s true nature at a glance, Stephan decided to change the subject. They were in the middle of frantic preparations for the exhibition; there was no time for idle chatter.
"Did you meet with the President?"
"I did."
"And the Magic Stone...?"
"Can we exhibit it tomorrow? Everyone seems busy today, and I don't want to disrupt the flow."
"Well, alright. I'll frame it as a strategy—intentionally hiding our 'main attraction' to build hype." Stephan grumbled to himself, We really need to display that Magic Stone to draw eyes, though.
However, the exhibition itself wasn't the primary concern. It was merely a side show; the main presentation was the real focus. The highlights of that presentation would be the Magic Stone and the Magitech Rifle hanging nearby.
Ferda and Stephan looked up at the weapon.
"Regent, have you seen a demonstration of that yet?"
"I've seen something similar."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It didn't look like that back then," Ferda replied vaguely.
The rifles that fired Mana Bullets in his memory had been much larger and more complex. The current version looked so cluttered with various attachments that it felt like a simplified, messy prototype of the original.
"What do you think of it?" Stephan asked.
"In my eyes?"
"You, or any other merchant."
"Well, um..." Stephan scratched his head. Tilda had looked at it and questioned its profitability. In truth, the reactions of other merchants were similar, and Stephan secretly agreed. It wasn't easy to speak ill of something he was sponsoring, though. "If the exterior were a bit cleaner, wouldn't its evaluation improve?"
"So you're saying it looks hideous."
"Yes."
"I suppose it does," Ferda agreed.
Looking at the object now, it seemed more like a piece of avant-garde art than a functioning mechanical device. Yet, for Ferda, this Magitech Rifle was of the utmost importance.
"It would be great if this could draw in the merchants from the North and South..."
"I'll do my best to pull strings in the North," Stephan promised. He didn't mention the South. With his eldest brother, Murchit, standing in the way, he didn't want to make any promises he couldn't keep. Let's not try to run before we can walk, he thought.
But then, something entirely unexpected happened.
* * *
Scholars who spend their entire lives buried in books are intellectuals. People often mock them for being frogs in a well, but there always comes a moment when such intellectuals are indispensable.
For a group that deals in information, the process of filtering and processing data is paramount. The Black Bandana did not overlook this.
The Black Bandana—symbolized by their black hoods—was a secret organization spread across the Serdes Continent, dedicated to collecting and selling information. To process the massive amounts of data they gathered, they needed the sharpest minds of Escoleia.
That was why Garnet, a high-ranking member of the Black Bandana, had come here.
"Hmm."
She was dressed as a Southern noblewoman, wearing a revealing outfit that left little to the imagination. Her dark skin contrasted sharply with her ash-gray hair. Her race and appearance were perfect for posing as a desert dweller from the Far South.
However, there was one problem.
"Are you here alone, young lady?"
Men swarmed like flies toward her.
"Huh?"
"If you don't mind, I could escort you— cough!"
The moment the man met her eyes, he let out a dry, strangled cough. He turned pale and backed away instantly.
"M-my apologies. Please, go right ahead."
"...What?" Garnet watched him scurry away with one eyebrow arched. She had no idea why the man had even approached her in the first place.
A man dressed as a Northerner leaned in toward her. "Geez, Boss. Try to smile a bit. Are you here on a hit? Since when did we become an assassins' guild?"
This man, acting overly familiar, was also a member of the Black Bandana. He had come to Halim to recruit information processors. In other words, he was here to work.
Garnet looked back and forth between his face and the glass in his hand. "Are you drinking on the job?"
"It's a must for undercover work. To persuade someone rather than threaten them, you need to ease the tension. And for Northern warriors, booze is a necessity."
"A blade would be more effective for coaxing a weakling than that glass. Are you trying to recruit another slick bastard who'll run off with the data and pocket the bribes?"
"Hey, I was out of it back then. I handled him myself, didn't I?"
"That's because you were drunk. Drink one more drop, and I'll reach down your throat, pull out your stomach, and squeeze it dry."
Garnet expressed her resolve with chilling intensity. She was a woman of her word.
"Man, you're scary. Smile! A woman is most beautiful when she smiles, not when she looks like she's about to murder someone."
"Shut up and get to work. I'll handle my end."
The "Northern" man chuckled, raised his glass, and disappeared back into the crowd. Garnet sighed and covered her mouth with a folding fan.
This is why I said I hated the noble lady concept.
She was beautiful enough to pull off the expensive clothes, but that was it. Her life had been spent in a violent world of blood and steel, far removed from flower beds. Her gaze was fierce, and her movements naturally carried a masculine edge. She never wanted to wear these cumbersome, jingling clothes that exposed her skin every time she moved ever again.
Despite the discomfort, she had come to Halim for one person.
Garnet decided to move without further delay. The presentation was about to begin in the Opera House—a perfect venue, capable of accommodating a massive crowd with its resonant acoustics.
Garnet stepped inside. Pretending to look for her seat, her eyes quickly scanned the surroundings.
There he is.
The orchestra seats, the closest location to the stage. The front two rows were completely empty, surrounded by his subordinates in a state of total security.
Garnet whispered his name in her mind.
Ferda Valdrova.
The initial investigation had started with Helus Fobidas. She had been hired when that man claimed a young girl had been kidnapped, and through the search for her, she had learned of Ferda Valdrova.
It only got more interesting from there.
The report that Valdrova had gained a fiancé was impactful enough, but her interest accelerated once she started digging in earnest. Information from the Far East was updated weekly, and each update showed astonishing progress.
And today, he's here in Halim.
Garnet wanted to see the man for herself, and finally, she could. He had gray hair similar to hers and a tall, commanding stature. Though hidden by his slim formal uniform, she could tell at a glance that his body wasn't particularly trained for combat.
He doesn't have many striking physical features, but...
His aura was different. Even though she could only see the back of his head from her seat, he exuded a dignity one would expect from a man in his fifties—a sense of composure and calm that wasn't bound by youthful hot-bloodedness. It wasn't surprising that quite a few women were infatuated with him.
I heard the President of Escoleia gave him a slot in the main presentation?
Exhibitions, especially the main presentations, were organized through years of rigorous screening. Even the President had to compete with other scholars to stand on that stage. To have passed him through single-handedly meant the President was confident enough to stake his own position on it.
His influence has been growing strangely lately. As expected, he must have a connection with Regent Ferda.
Definitely worth a deep dive.
Muttering to herself, she took out a notepad and began scribbling. As a member of the continent's greatest information network, she was fulfilling her duty.
"Excuse me, Madam?"
"Huh?"
The staff member gasped the moment their eyes met. "Eek! I-I'm sorry if I offended you!"
Garnet, however, was merely lost in thought; she wasn't actually in a bad mood. If she were, it would have been because of the staff member's reaction.
"No, it's fine. Could you tell me where my seat is?"
"Yes! I'll guide you right away."
Garnet's assigned seat was in one of the Opera House's box seats. It was right in the center, and since Ferda was within her line of sight, it was perfect.
I'll just have to wait and see.
It was time to see for herself just how good Regent Ferda's eye for talent really was.
* * *
Meanwhile, Ferda was being bombarded by the flattery of numerous nobles.
Since he had rented out the entire front row, no one should have been passing through, but many people went out of their way to walk past and greet him.
"Greetings to the consort of the Guardian of the Far East. I am the owner of the Jade Merchant House..."
"Greetings to the Great Regent of the Far East! If I may introduce myself, I am currently active as a mercenary..."
Not just scholars, but knights, nobles, and merchants alike tried to make an impression by thrusting their names forward. For those seeking the favor of one of the few nobles who possessed both status and wealth, this was their best shot.
Usually, nobles would block off the paths entirely to prevent such situations. One or two people could be laughed off, but when dozens were literally lining up, it became a nuisance. Yet, Ferda let them be. He was hoping to see a familiar face.
However, to his surprise, he saw nothing but nobodies he didn't recognize. It was a waste of time, but it wasn't all bad. He had nothing else to do until the presentation started anyway.
There are certainly a lot of people.
Stephan, who had arrived earlier, mentioned that the opening presentation hadn't even filled half of the Opera House. Contrary to that, today the place was packed. There were even fistfights breaking out over ticketed seats. Since this was a place where the most promising and innovative works among scholars were presented, the nobles and merchants were all on edge.
But the biggest competitors in the presentation weren't the merchants or nobles—it was the presenting scholars themselves.
"Nice to meet you! I am the scholar..."
— Zzzzzzz.
— Snooooore.
The moment the scholars began their explanations—no, the moment their voices were heard—nobles and merchants began dropping like flies. Even Ferda, sitting in the VIP section, was struggling to resist the temptation of sleep. He began to suspect that this wasn't a presentation, but a Sleep Magic Resistance Contest.
"Malcolm."
"Yes, sir!"
While everyone else was nodding off, Malcolm was wide awake. Since he didn't understand a word of it, he didn't feel the need to try, and thus, he didn't feel sleepy.
"When is Burnell's turn?"
"Let me check! Um... it's right after Bernard Wayne's presentation on the Monster Appearance Prediction Device!"
"I see. I can hear you just fine, so lower your voice. The presenter is looking this way."
"Huh? Oops!"
Since this was a stage to introduce their life's work, the presenters were sensitive. Malcolm realized his mistake and shut his mouth.
As Ferda sat there half-asleep, listening to the presenters' drones, a voice finally jolted him awake.
"The item I am about to present is the Monster Appearance Prediction Device."
It was the voice of Bernard Wayne, the President of Escoleia. His turn had come.
As if they shared Ferda's thoughts, the eyes of the drowsy audience began to sparkle again.
"First, to briefly explain the operating principle of this prediction device: when a monster appears, a momentary detection of anomalous mana occurs in the surrounding air. I have identified the patterns of that mana to create an algorithm, and through those formulas, I have secured runes..."
But he proceeded to deliver an overwhelmingly tedious explanation that made those sparkling eyes lose their light and fall back into deep slumber.
By the time Burnell comes out, eighty percent of them will be asleep.
Even Ferda, who was sponsoring him, didn't have the confidence to endure the sleep magic disguised as an explanation. Sorry, Burnell. Actually, no, I'm not sorry. If you're annoyed, you should have been better.
"Haha, you all look quite bored, don't you? My apologies. It's not often I get to stand on a stage like this. I shall proceed with a brief demonstration."
At least the President had enough sense to move on to the demonstration. The device he brought out was shaped like a metal pillar.
"Basically, this prediction device is designed to be handled by Mana Walkers as well as Magic Walkers. By simply injecting mana like this and activating the formula..."
Wooooom—.
"The device activates. Haha, now the explanation should be a bit easier and more interesting. Now, look at this screen here. I've made it so that anyone who can read a simple map can use it. If a monster appears here, it will make a distinct 'beep-beep' sound..."
Beep— beep—.
"Oh? Ah, yes, just like that. But that doesn't mean a monster is appearing. There's a specific issue that occurs when first starting it up."
Beep— beep—.
"Wait? One moment. I clearly followed the blueprints and finished the testing, so why is this...?"
Beep— beep—.
"Uh...?"
Bernard, flustered, began fiddling with the device. He hammered on it, trying to find the defect. Ferda had an intuition. This wasn't a malfunction.
"Everyone, get ready."
"Sir?"
"They're coming."
The center point on the screen began to flash, and the candles lighting the hall started to flicker in unison.
"Oh my, what's happening?"
"Is it an earthquake?"
The people failed to realize the gravity of the situation. Among them, those with combat experience immediately reached for their weapons.
A rift tore open in the space around the Monster Appearance Prediction Device. From within the rift, where dizzying colors swirled, something forced its way out.
It was the head of a wolf. No—it was a monster with the head of a wolf.
ROOOOAR!!!
The monster's roar echoed through the hall.
"Kyaaaaah!"
"Aaaaah!"
Piercing screams and the sound of chairs overturning erupted in a chain reaction. The sudden appearance of the monster turned the presentation hall into instant chaos. Taking advantage of the momentum, the wolf monster began to pull itself out of the rift.
It was then.
"Lightning Spear."
As soon as Ferda finished the incantation, the spell flew toward the monster emerging from the rift. A single bolt of flash, swallowing the light of the swaying chandeliers, pierced the wolf's head.
Pshhh!
It pierced a straight line from the wolf monster's brain to its heart. Green blood sprayed from its mouth; it was an instantaneous death.
Ferda looked at the creature and thought to himself.
That's one.