Chapter 42
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: A Fake, Not the Genuine Article?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A few days later, at the Debutante ball.
I unfolded the folding table. Secured the legs and spread out the cloth.
Right in the middle of the Debutante ballroom.
"Are we really doing this here?"
Celine's voice dropped low.
I nodded and pulled the wrapped Crimson Azure Grass from my bag, one by one. Neatly lined up.
The small boxes formed perfect rows.
The social debut stage for noble young ladies. The ballroom every noble girl under fifteen counted down to eagerly. And here I was, the brazen vendor setting up shop.
Me.
"Not even embarrassed?"
"I'm ten."
"If you're ten, then I'm five."
A snicker slipped out. I couldn't tell whose mouth it came from.
My hands never stopped as I replied. I straightened the packaging, adjusted the angles, and completed the perfect stall.
The murmurs began.
"What's that?"
"Look over there. In the corner..."
"She unfolded a table?"
"Putting out items?"
"It's a child."
Whispers darted behind fans. Eyes converged.
"That crest... a ducal house?"
"Which one?"
"Krushtein."
A brief silence fell.
"...That thug family?"
The blunt words slipped from the mouth of one girl on the cusp of her debut.
"The kid might hear."
"Too far away, and with all these people, he won't."
Well, I could hear every word...
But it wasn't wrong.
And right now, I was gearing up for something even more outrageous than a thug.
Footsteps approached.
Two attendants. Perfectly polite postures. But their eyes were resolute.
The lead attendant spoke up.
"Excuse me, but commercial activity is not permitted here."
"Not commercial."
"Pardon?"
"Free distribution."
The attendant's eyebrow twitched.
"Even so, within the ballroom..."
I drew an envelope from my pocket and unfolded it for him to see.
"This should cover it, right?"
His gaze shifted to the envelope.
The moment he confirmed the seal, his face stiffened.
"Her Highness Duchess Clara's seal."
The two attendants exchanged glances. Silent communication passed between them.
What now?
The power player at the heart of imperial politics had approved it.
The attendants bowed their heads and retreated.
Yeah, that's right. Beat it.
"Excuse me."
I looked up at the voice.
A young man. Early twenties. Immaculate suit with gold buttons. A young master from some fine house, no doubt.
He peered down at the table with eyes full of curiosity.
"What's this?"
"Good for your health."
"Health...?"
"Yes."
"What kind of health?"
Good for a man's... downstairs health. But even I had enough tact not to say it outright.
"The overall sort. Fatigue recovery, better circulation, stamina boost. It's huge among men. Your brother's father might love it as a gift."
The young master's eyes flicked to the packaging. His expression showed he caught on.
"If you're interested, take one."
I picked up a package and held it out to him.
"It's free."
"...Free?"
"Sample."
His hand hovered in midair.
Should he take it? Or pass?
The hesitation was written all over his face.
"Go ahead, no pressure. No effect? Toss it."
"...Is that really okay?"
"That's the point of giving it."
His hand moved. The package transferred to his grasp.
"...Thank you."
"Oh, and this too?"
"What's that?"
"A coupon. Buy ten within the period, get one free."
And with that, the first sample was off. Another man approached.
Older than the young master. Thirties, maybe forties. Face with a neatly trimmed beard.
"This... Crimson Azure Grass, isn't it?"
"You know your stuff."
"This color, this packaging... no doubt about it."
"That's right. Take it. Free."
"Free?"
"Sample."
The man's hand darted out. He snatched a package and tucked it away.
"Thank you."
The middle-aged man gave a curt nod and turned away.
Toward his waiting friends.
I kept my ears open as I greeted the next customer.
The ballroom was vast, but voices carried farther than you'd think. Especially excited ones.
"Hey, check this out. Crimson Azure Grass. You know how hard it is to get lately? Scored it free."
"What? Where?"
"Over there. From that silver-haired kid."
"You've got guts."
"Huh?"
"Going up to that kid."
"It's just a child. No matter how monstrous his father is, he's nothing but a cute little thing."
Cute little thing.
Yeah, I'm ten. That's exactly why I could pull off something this mortifying.
The thought drew a snicker from deep inside.
But another voice cut in. Low and dead serious.
"That kid's a monster too."
"What?"
"You haven't heard? Krushtein's bastard son. The little monster of the north. Wiped out five hundred orcs with fire tactics. Zero friendly losses. Then the Kuman Tribe. Crushed two thousand with a tiny force. That's why the Knight Slayer granted that monstrous brat equal standing with his sole legitimate heir."
"You're kidding. Could be another son."
"Rumors reached the capital. Ten years old. Silver-haired pretty boy. It's definitely him."
"Ten years old, fighting wars? Overwhelming victory against the odds?"
"That's why they call him a monster."
Gazes settled on me again.
I flashed a nonchalant smile and handed a package to the next customer.
"Here you go, free. Take it."
An hour passed.
The boxes on the table were thinning out. More than half gone.
But some still wouldn't approach.
A cluster of young nobles in the corner. Eyes fixed my way, feet glued in place.
I could read their minds.
Krushtein.
The north's thug family.
The house that wiped out more noble lines than any other.
Word was that kid recently exterminated two count families himself.
Just like his father, ruthlessly merciless.
The bizarre rumors about me were unavoidable.
Our house's reputation was what it was.
But that didn't mean I could just sit on my hands.
I raised my voice. Loud enough to carry through the ballroom.
"House Krushtein only cuts down rebel nobles."
Murmurs rippled outward. Eyes locked on.
"Nobles loyal to the Imperial Family, just like us? All friends of ours."
In other words.
Anyone not coming over is a traitor.
Of course, I didn't say it flat out. The nuance was plenty.
One young noble in the corner flinched. He met eyes with his friend nearby, whispered something.
Then he walked over.
"Um... could I take one?"
"Of course."
I handed him a package. And the coupon.
"And this?"
"Buy ten, get one free. Limited time."
"Ah, okay..."
As he walked off, the dam burst. People surged forward.
"One for me."
"Me too."
"What's this coupon thing?"
My hands flew. Packages handed out, coupons explained, smile held steady.
The coupons were handcrafted, stitch by stitch, by my skilled servant.
Precise enough to forge, honestly.
But it didn't matter.
Even if they forged them to buy ten and snag a freebie, they'd still be selling way above wholesale.
Above my planned price, even.
I wasn't taking the loss.
"Thank you. Come again."
The last box vanished into a customer's pocket.
The table stood empty.
Celine approached, arms crossed.
"All gone."
"Yeah."
I folded the table, bundled the cloth, and stowed it in the bag.
Phase one: complete.
Now for the rest...
I turned to the center of the ballroom.
The musicians were taking their places. The first piece was moments away.
The dance with the princess.
The music cut off.
Murmurs died down. Hundreds of nobles sealed their lips. The entire ballroom fell silent.
The emcee ascended the podium. A white-gloved hand rose.
"The first dance goes to the Empire's flower, Her Highness the Celestial Princess, and..."
My heart skipped a single beat.
I'd known. It was set in stone. The deal with Duchess Clara. The price of the invitation. Even so.
"...Young Master Adrian von Krushtein of House Krushtein, come from the distant north."
Hundreds of gazes crashed down at once.
"That kid? First dance with Her Highness?"
"Handing out those rare herbs wasn't about business... it was to get us to remember his face."
"In his rivalry with his brother, he'd lack connections back in the duchy. This must be him building ties in the capital."
Whispers spread like waves.
Celine murmured low beside me.
"Time to go."
"Got it."
I handed the table to Celine and turned.
Walked toward the ballroom's heart.
My footsteps echoed alone on the marble floor. Nobles parted to either side.
Like Moses cleaving the sea. Or people dodging a plague carrier.
The pure white dress caught my eye first.
Pearl embellishments cinched her waist. A lace veil shrouded her entire face.
And silver hair.
Strands spilling through the veil.
Same as mine. Same as Lize's.
The princess descended the stairs slowly.
The whole ballroom held its breath.
I felt a gaze without turning.
Duchess Clara.
What face was that old viper making now? Probably a smug smile. Convinced everything spun in the palm of her hand.
The princess reached the foot of the stairs.
She extended her hand.
From behind the veil emerged pale, slender fingers. They rested atop mine.
The music began.
First step. Second step. Third.
Truth be told, I can't dance. Not in my past life, not this one. And yet my feet didn't stumble.
The princess was leading.
Effortlessly.
Invisibly.
Making it seem like I was the skilled one.
Duchess Clara hadn't lied—she danced beautifully.
That was when it happened.
The motion of clasping hands anew. Something strange brushed my fingertips.
Not body heat. Something beyond it.
When my hand circled her waist, certainty hit.
This sensation. Where had I felt it before?
Mana.
I might know nothing else, but my sense for mana? I trusted it.
Even if I had zero talent for wielding it.
It wasn't ordinary human mana. It was suppressed.
Forcibly. Deliberately.
The same feeling as when I'd held Lize's hand.
Enhanced human.
My step wavered. Just a fraction.
"Are you alright?"
A whisper slipped from behind the veil.
"Yes. Quite alright."
I kept my voice steady. My feet realigned with the rhythm.
But my mind raced.
Enhancement surgery. Loss of senses. Shortened lifespan. Body warped. All traded for superhuman strength.
Lize had endured it. Parents lost to an orc raid, turned into a lab rat.
That kind of surgery... on the real princess?
It made no sense.
Which meant...
I stared past the veil as we stepped.
Who was this woman?