Ah, This is the Modern Boyfriend Look
"I'll be watching."
The lounge door clicked shut behind her. Duchess Judith La Roche's parting words lingered in the air.
I slowly rose from where I'd been flattened behind the sofa, rubbing my stiff neck.
"Watching my ass. Just log out of my life already."
The crown prince, the villainess lady— all of them. But I couldn't stay holed up in the lounge forever, wallowing in self-pity.
Instead of heading back to the ballroom, I hopped the fence into the outer garden connected to the terrace. No one would notice or care if Ian Ashy, the useless second son of the incompetent Ashy Barony, vanished.
In a dim back alley three blocks from the bustling streets of Caliola's capital, I pulled my hood low against the chilly night air. The door to the secret bookseller's shop—reeking of old leather—came into view.
—Creak.
As I pushed it open, the shopkeeper sorting ledgers under the faint mana lamp light jumped in surprise. Then, spotting me, his face lit up with a greedy yet reverent grin.
Jackpot again, huh?
"Aigoo! You've arrived!"
Of course, he had no idea I was an Extra or a mere errand boy. He was just polite because I brought in the cash.
I pitched my voice low.
...Ow, my throat hurts.
"What's the situation?"
"Don't even ask! The back-alley auction's in an uproar. They're going for insane prices. Young nobles are popping veins, emptying their wallets to snag the pieces!"
With excited hands, he unlocked the safe and thunk, thunk—set several heavy leather pouches on the table.
Ooh. Heavy.
"This is the first payout. Take a look."
Feigning nonchalance, I untied one pouch.
Clink, clink—!
Gleaming gold caught the mana lamp's glow, sparkling like mad.
...Insane.
I swallowed hard without thinking.
"Roughly how much?"
"About 5 million krone."
5 million krone. Enough to turn the Ashy Barony's watered-down cabbage soup into year-long champignon cream for the whole family.
"What happened? No extra promo or anything."
The merchant chuckled slyly.
"Seems the son of the southern admiral, that Kyle Balder kid, has been hyping your work all over high society. Calling it the 'masterpiece of a man who truly knows women' or some nonsense."
Ah, that virgin Golden Sun from earlier. His sweaty, bluffing face from the lounge flashed in my mind.
"Ha. That guy's growing on me."
A laugh slipped out unbidden. A pure-hearted virgin in a ye-misae cosplay becoming the top viral marketer for my ero-manga? Life's full of surprises.
"Anyway."
I tucked the pouches into my bosom and got to the point. What I needed wasn't just this gold—it was infrastructure to handle the demand and generate even bigger wealth.
"Any decent printing presses yet?"
Hand-drawing and selling had clear limits. I needed mass-reproduction gear.
The bookseller's face twisted awkwardly.
"Ah... Sorry, but it'll be tough for a while."
"Why? I said I'd pay top krone."
"The Mage Tower just classified Rune Presses as strategic goods. And with the Imperial Academy jumping in, they've bought up every last one on the market... Stock's dried up."
Mage Tower and the Academy. The worst possible combo.
...Wait. Could I use one at the Academy?
No way. Snap out of it. That den of protagonists? Dream on.
"We'll have to place a new order and smuggle it through dark channels, but it'll take time."
"...Can't be helped. Keep looking. Pay whatever it takes for something solid."
I nodded lightly and slipped out of the building.
The moment I creaked open the Ashy Barony's worn front door, a chill blasted me head-on.
"Ian Ashy."
"Whoa, Chloe. Why're you still up?"
She glared with axe-like eyes. I shot Estelle a pleading look, but she ignored me and strode inside.
Traitor maid!
"You think I can sleep right now?"
Chloe stormed up, arms crossed.
"What the hell did you even do at the ball? I told you to just show your face quietly, and all I hear is crap about you?"
"What crap? And how do you know already anyway?"
I'd bolted right after with Estelle. How fast was noble gossip?
"Stuff like you scarfed meat without manners, acted like a thug with no conversation. Representing the family? Then act with dignity!"
Her nagging poured out.
Mm. I get it. She handled all the family's crap alone—stressful for sure. And I had the perfect way to shut it down in one shot.
"Here."
I pulled a pouch from my bosom—1 million krone, a fifth of the 5 million payout—and tucked it into her arms. The rest was for investments.
"...What's this?"
Feeling the weight, her eyes narrowed. She cautiously untied it, peeked inside, and gasped.
"I-Ian. Where the hell did you get this...?"
"We agreed no questions about the source."
I shrugged shamelessly. Even to my sister, I couldn't reveal I was an Extra.
"Fr-from the ball? You made this much?"
"Hey, I got what I could."
"You... y-you didn't sell your... b-body?"
I burst out laughing in disbelief.
"As if. Who'd buy that? Who'd even want it?"
"Well, you have that f-face... No, that's not it!"
Chloe flushed beet-red and yelled, flustered as ever beneath her icy exterior.
"Hmph. Whatever. I'll put it to good use."
"'Thank you'?"
"Wh-what? Why would I."
She shot me a death glare.
Tsk tsk. So prickly—who'd ever take her? As big bro, time to teach her manners.
"You say thanks. C'mon, repeat after me."
"Urk."
"Thank. You."
"Th... thank...?"
Good girl. My lips curved smugly—then a vein bulged on her forehead.
"Like hell I'd thank you, you idiot moron brother Ian!"
Ahh. What a disobedient little sister. Wait—
Did she just say 'brother'?
First time I've heard that.
Before I could ask, she bolted to her room. Then poked her head back out.
"Don't forget the Academy entrance ceremony!"
"Hey, I'm earning money, right? 200 million krone. Hit that and I skip, yeah?"
"It's tomorrow—how? Earn 200 million by then and sure, skip. But go to tomorrow's ceremony no matter what!"
"...Wait, what."
I blinked dumbly.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah, tomorrow! Late and you're dead. For real."
I clutched my head in despair. 200 million krone in a day? How?!
The next morning, a horrific pile of fabric scraps littered my room's center.
"This... is the uniform?"
I gaped, picking up the rag—er, uniform—from the floor. Chloe had tossed it at me: 'No money, so wear Dad's old one from his youth.'
The Imperial Academy uniform hadn't changed anyway.
Hasn't it? Shouldn't it have by now?
Good lord. Sleeves dripping with lace, exaggerated shoulder pads like puffed-up horrors, a shapeless blob with no waistline. Peak medieval Western fantasy noble trash fashion.
"This... is terrorism."
As a webtoon artist obsessed with costumes, my aesthetics were being butchered.
Wear this? Better to go naked—more stylish.
"Estelle!"
Help me, Estelle-mong!
I flung open the door and yelled desperately.
Estelle-mong—or rather, Estelle—was a genius maid masterful in housework, cleaning, cooking, sewing, and roasting. Soon, she clicked into the room in her perfectly tailored maid outfit, face as impassive and chilly as ever.
"Young master. What bizarre task are you scheming from the morning, causing such a racket?"
Her roasting had leveled up since that day, but whatever. I grinned, shoving a pin cushion into her hands.
"The bizarre one's this outfit, Estelle. I trust the Ashy family's head maid's perfect skills."
Of course, I provided the design eye.
"Rip out these godawful shoulder pads first. Cinch the waist tight. Crop the top 3 inches higher for longer legs."
"Young master, it'll violate etiquette like its owner. Shouldn't we hear the outfit's opinion?"
"You ever seen me follow etiquette? Outfit rebels, it gets it."
"As expected, so forceful."
"Ah, that last time...!"
I started to defend, then eyed her. Her eyes flickered faintly?
I smirked, whispering in her ear.
"What? You wanted me to order it?"
"N-no! Not that...!"
"If Estelle wants, I can do it anytime... Ow!"
A pin nicked my skin—just a prick. The metal gleamed coldly under the light. Beyond it, her eyes sharpened like they could pierce my veins.
"S-sorry."
Forgot how scary she gets. And ero-manga's just fantasy—no one wants that play.
As I inwardly reflected on my occupational hazard, Estelle sewed furiously, lips pressed tight.
"Done. Try it on."
Crisp, neat, straight out of a celeb feed—like a modern boyfriend look.
Mm. Estelle-mong delivers.
As I admired...
"You'll be late. Hurry."
"W-wait. Can't... breathe, Estelle!"
Angry Estelle's spicy handiwork struck again.