Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: #9 The Capital (4)
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The madam’s hands trembled as she took Elric’s measurements.
It was a perfectly natural reaction, but it still left a bitter taste.
These were scars etched across his entire body from his early, clumsy days with the blade.
And they weren’t just knife wounds, either.
There were burns and gunshot scars that had festered, ruining patches of skin beyond recognition. Even Elric had to admit his scars were pretty gruesome.
A certain thought naturally came to mind.
‘The Lady won’t want to see this.’
The moment he pictured her shocked face, Elric flinched.
A hollow laugh escaped him.
‘What the hell am I thinking….’
As if there’d ever be an occasion to show her.
He quickly shook off the indecent stray thought.
“A-all done!”
The madam forced a cheerful laugh as she finished jotting down the measurements.
A pro was a pro, after all.
Elric flashed a grin and straightened his shirt.
“Thanks. What’s next?”
“Let’s go look at the fabrics and designs! After all, the most important thing about clothes is the wearer’s taste, right?”
“Fair enough. Lead the way.”
As they left the workroom, Tiria was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a catalog.
She looked up at the sound of their footsteps.
“All finished?”
“That’s right. Now we’re picking fabrics and designs.”
“Yes, I’ve already been looking them over.”
Without me?
The words nearly slipped out, but then Elric remembered past events and nodded in understanding.
Elric’s tailcoat would be entirely Tiria’s decision.
Catching the madam’s sidelong glance, Elric gave an awkward smile.
“…The Lady has a much better eye for clothes. You two handle it.”
“Oh my, such a devoted husband!”
Clap!
She clapped her hands and chimed in right away, which Elric was truly grateful for.
Tiria’s expression flickered for an instant, but it was too brief for Elric to read her true feelings.
“So, Lady, what catches your eye?”
“…Let’s start with these.”
Tiria and the madam quickly dove into conversation.
Tiria mostly selected the fabrics, while the madam advised on which ones paired well with certain colors and which suit styles suited his build and frame. To Elric, it was just a headache-inducing exchange.
He killed time by wolfing down the tea table treats and chugging the black tea, but there was no sign of the discussion ending.
How long were they going to keep at it?
Boredom was just starting to creep in when—
Ding-a-ling—
The tailor shop’s door opened.
A new customer. The madam snapped her head up, beaming to greet him—
“Welcome…”
—and froze.
It wasn’t just her.
Tiria’s brows furrowed slightly.
For someone who rarely showed discomfort, who could possibly make her react like that?
Curious, Elric glanced toward the entrance.
“…Well, if it isn’t Lady Weibin.”
A blond young man with a slimy look stood there.
His jaw jutted out like he’d taken a punch to the chin, but his clothes were finely made—he seemed to be from a prominent family.
“Lady, do you know him?”
The man’s gaze turned to Elric.
Elric sensed a faint hostility in it.
But it vanished just as quickly.
“Ah, Baron Portman? I’d heard the news, but…”
His eyes scanned Elric once, then fixed on the cane in his hand.
A crooked smile twisted his lips, mirroring his jaw.
“…Looks like you had a mishap during your wandering years?”
Elric wasn’t an idiot.
Or more precisely, no one was quicker than him at picking up on certain emotions he’d experienced himself.
‘He’s picking a fight.’
Hostility, wariness, superiority, relief.
They tangled messily, turning his tone mocking.
The condescending glare was disgustingly sticky.
Irritation flickered in it too.
‘This guy….’
On a first meeting, flashing that face—it wasn’t just unpleasant; it was absurd.
Should he get angry?
No, the guy wasn’t worth it.
‘One flick to the forehead and his head might pop.’
Sure, nobles didn’t train rigorously in mana, but this was just pathetic.
A quick scan showed his muscle mass was pitiful. He looked decently built on the outside, but fat choked his organs, and his metabolism was a wreck.
‘Diet issue? No, bad lifestyle overall.’
A total disaster.
The most glaring was the trace of venereal disease.
Promiscuous sex life, clearly.
At this rate, he’d die young—it was obvious.
“…Family Head, this is Aman Nimrud, heir to the House of Count Nimrud.”
Tiria stepped in to introduce him.
Elric let out an “Ah.”
He recalled hearing the name before coming here.
—You need to meet Count Nimrud at this ball. You’ve looked into his tastes, right?
More precisely, he’d overheard some noble on the street talking about meeting his father, the Count—given the “heir” title.
A prominent family, as expected.
The arrogance made sense. No need to pick a fight, so Elric leaned on his cane, stood properly, and greeted him.
“I’m Elric Portman. No need for ‘Baron’—I haven’t completed the succession yet.”
He smiled amiably and offered a handshake, but the response was lukewarm.
The man’s gaze had already shifted to Tiria.
And that—
“Lady, you’ve only grown more beautiful.”
—stirred something unpleasant in Elric.
“…You flatter me.”
“How have you been? The last I heard was that the baron had returned, so I was quite worried. Ten years away from home, only just back… Oh dear, my apologies.”
He gave Elric a oily smile.
Elric pondered for a moment.
‘Should I kill him?’
No, calm down. That wouldn’t do.
This wasn’t the West—it was the East, Ferdin, and this guy was still the heir to what seemed a major count’s house.
Ruining things over personal feelings would mean messy fallout.
Plus, there was no Elbus Graham here to clean up after him.
He suddenly missed his friend, but he couldn’t rely on him even here. So Elric chuckled.
“I’m fine…”
“But what brings the Lady to a tailor shop? Ah, fitting the baron for a tailcoat?”
“…Yes.”
“Hmm, so things aren’t too bad between you.”
Elric’s smile faded instantly.
Nimrud’s gaze was irritating.
More precisely, the way he leered at Tiria made him want to gouge the man’s eyes out.
Every time he called her “Lady,” Elric itched to smash his fist into that face.
Elric was surprised at himself for these thoughts.
He hadn’t entertained them once since turning twenty. How could he be this furious?
Something bubbled up inside him.
Its target was clear.
Elric hated seeing this creep hovering near Tiria.
“Heir, if it’s not too much trouble, may I finish with the Family Head first?”
“Hm?”
“We were selecting fabrics.”
Even as Tiria openly showed her discomfort, Aman Nimrud didn’t budge.
Elric’s grip tightened on his cane.
What was this nonsense?
“I could help with that.”
Aman Nimrud chuckled.
“A man’s clothes should be chosen by a man, no? I’d like to get to know the baron better. I’ll assist him myself.”
Elric let out a hollow laugh as the arrow turned back on him.
Aman Nimrud pulled money from his wallet and handed it to the madam.
“Madam, why don’t you step out to a nearby dessert cafe for a bit? I need to have a private word with the baron.”
What was his game, wanting them alone?
No need to guess—his intentions were obvious.
“W-well…”
The madam glanced at Elric.
He hesitated, then nodded.
As always, the hotter his chest burned, the cooler his head became.
“Lucky me. I don’t know the capital’s nobles, so I was worrying how to handle the ball.”
A flicker of worry crossed Tiria’s face.
Ah, that soothed him a little.
‘Am I losing it?’
It was barely different from her usual expression, yet he read it as concern, and it lifted his mood, easing his anger. Yeah, he might be going mad.
“Lady, go on ahead.”
“Family Head…”
“It’s fine.”
Elric smiled brightly.
Tiria’s lips moved, but she let out a deep sigh and left with the madam.
Now it was just Elric and Aman Nimrud in the tailor shop.
Elric deepened his smile as he regarded him.
‘Keep smiling.’
Wasn’t there a saying like that?
A smile brings calm.
To send this scoundrel away intact, he needed composure…
“The Lady is as enchanting as ev—”
“Baroness.”
…Screw composure.
Elric cut him off and stepped forward.
There was about a head’s height difference between them.
Aman Nimrud instinctively stepped back.
Elric loomed over him and repeated.
“She’s the baroness. Baroness Portman.”
Embarrassment and humiliation spread across Aman Nimrud’s face.
Not that Elric cared.
The rush of blood to his head was oddly thrilling; keeping himself in check was challenge enough.
“Listen, Heir.”
It was a shame.
If this were the West, he’d rip off the man’s limbs and dump them at his parents’ feet.
But it was fine.
As always, there was always a way.
“A married lady is called a baroness. Tiria Portman is my wife.”
Aman Nimrud’s expression turned ugly.
Elric felt oddly pleased.
What came to mind was some noble etiquette Elbus Graham had once mentioned.
—Nobles live and die by appearances. In noble disputes, even if you strike first, if you have justification, they’ll accept it. High-mindedly put. More bluntly…
—What?
—…When they want a scrap, they poke and prod until the other snaps. Nobles are pettier than you think.
Elric hoped fervently.
“I’m the one who’ll inherit the barony, so calling her baroness is correct. Seems you lack education in such matters.”
Please, just bark a little more.
Give me that precious justification.