Chapter 173
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 173
Chapter Title: No Problem at All
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The white-haired girl clutching her chopsticks.
Aynsha finally managed to snag a piece of the savory-smelling pancake after a bit of a struggle and transferred it to her rice bowl.
Then, in a curt voice, she asked Rimon, who sat across from her.
"Ri, I want to know if you've ever been to the Holy Alliance."
"Don't you know about the sword marks I left in that grand canyon there, or the temple ruins I demolished? They're still around."
"I do. It's famous. A must-see tourist spot."
"Then why ask?"
Perhaps recalling that time long ago when he'd gone to hunt the White Dragon Clan only to smash a church for no good reason and come back empty-handed.
Rimon pulled a sour face.
Aynsha answered his question with a blank expression.
"Because tomorrow, when you head back home, I'm taking you to the Holy Alliance with me and making it a done deal on the sly."
"...Honesty's nice and all, but you think spilling your guts like that makes me wanna go along?"
"My foresight says no. But that's fine. The future can be changed."
"Changing the future and changing people's hearts are two totally different things, you dummy princess..."
Rimon, who had been massaging his temples at her brazen reply, turned his head.
With his eyes, he signaled to Li Chingwei, who was demurely placing a tender piece of meat into her own rice bowl beside him.
'Princess, do something about her.'
'Sorry, that's beyond me.'
'What am I supposed to do if you can't rein her in?'
'Hmm... Sword Duke will just have to get used to it, I suppose?'
Li Chingwei replied with a smile.
Rimon clicked his tongue at the sight—even through her smiling face, her embarrassment came through loud and clear.
He knew why she could only smile through Aynsha's blatant courtship.
To sustain her World Peace Plan, she'd sold off shares in Leviathan. Now, Aynsha was offering to return the 7% stake held by the White Dragon Clan.
Leviathan shares weren't just stocks—they were the Black Dragon Clan's lifeline, the very key to dominating the Seven Dragon Society.
For the Black Dragon Clan, clinging to barely 50.1% ownership, it was an offer too outrageous to refuse, borderline insane.
Even more outrageous was that Li Chingwei hadn't accepted it yet.
Still dissatisfied, Rimon scowled and griped with his eyes.
'That's why I said just turn it down.'
'If word gets out, our elders will stage a revolt no matter what.'
'I'll smash those guys for you.'
'Even if the elders are dealt with, the clan's discontent lingers. Besides, that controlling stake is a weapon you need to take over the Seven Dragon Society, Sword Duke.'
'We'll figure something out.'
'If only Aynsha hadn't declared she'd call it a scam and wage war immediately if we refused.'
'...So it's a no-win situation?'
'Hard to find answers, whether by justification or pragmatism.'
Rimon sighed after hearing Li Chingwei's thoughts as she set down her kimchi.
He could ignore the practical gains, but if he pressed on principle, he had no comeback. After all, they'd tried to scam him with a fake date first.
Of course, Aynsha had tried to poison him outright, so he could counter with that.
The problem was she'd already apologized for it and promised cooperation in capturing the Liberation Brigade.
That left him with nothing to hold against her now.
In the end, even Li Chingwei could only play it safe with a "hold off for now."
'You think she calculated all that before offering cooperation?'
'That'd be impressive, but... no. She probably just charged ahead blindly and it ended up like this.'
'And that sounds even more impressive? Am I weird?'
'Sometimes fools are the scariest.'
As if to say, who was it that evolved this prophecy-ignoring super-fool from a mere prediction-following idiot?
Rimon scratched his cheek at Li Chingwei's pointed smile.
That's when Aynsha muttered as her chopsticks finally dropped the jellyfish she'd been struggling with—for the third time—onto the table with a slip.
"Li Chingwei, telepathic secret chats are cheating. Against the rules."
"I didn't use telepathy."
"Just eye signals, eye signals."
"Questionable. Eyes are visual organs. How can they converse?"
"Fiancés can read each other's minds with just a glance."
"...Still cheating."
Li Chingwei smiled gracefully, leisurely deboning some fish and adding it to her rice bowl.
Aynsha, her face blank but visibly pouty as she glared, finally succeeded on the fourth try with the jellyfish.
And Rimon furrowed his brow.
"You two princesses, I'll eat my own damn rice, so eat yours. This isn't a funeral spread—what's with all this?"
Beef, kimchi, jellyfish, fish, side greens, and more.
Rimon stared incredulously at his rice bowl, now buried under a mountain of banchan threatening a full landslide.
But Li Chingwei and Aynsha remained unfazed.
"Because I'm Sword Duke's fiancée-to-be. Taking care of the groom's meal is the bride's privilege."
"Got it. Then I'll do the ahh~ for you. Open wide."
"Forget privileges—where'd you even learn that, Aynsha?"
"From Tata. How to be a beloved bride. Perfect攻略."
Li Chingwei, with her ironclad poker face.
Aynsha, spouting nonsense deadpan.
The two showed no sign of backing down, leaving Rimon to nurse a headache for a moment.
Finally, he cut straight to it.
"Aynsha. You know this, but I'm already engaged to Li Chingwei here, so I can't marry you."
"That's fine. You marry Li Chingwei, Sword Duke. I'll marry Ri."
"...Even if I concede a hundred times and accept your nonsense that Ri and I are different people, I still have zero interest in marrying you."
"If there's no feeling, make one."
"Don't talk about my heart like it's some seasonal new product."
"Love comes suddenly. It did for me. It will for Ri. So let's work on it."
"..."
Words wouldn't work.
She wasn't even listening.
For a moment, even centuries of life left him speechless at this brake-failed love idiot's straight-ball courtship.
Truly baffled, Rimon asked,
"Look, I get your burning passion, but what if it turns out I'm a married man? You okay with that blowing up?"
"If it blows up, it blows up."
"No red flags there?"
"It's fine. Even as second wife, my clan will understand. If not, I'll beat understanding into them."
"What the...?"
Rimon trailed off, gaping at Aynsha's proud fist-clench.
He'd just realized something crucial.
'Come to think of it, she's from the Holy Alliance, right?'
The Holy Alliance.
A religious melting pot centered on the world's last holy city, Jerusalem, where temples and churches tangled like vines.
Since the Silver Age, this theocratic state had died out, but even among citizens, laws varied by faith and sect.
Marriage laws were prime examples.
Polygamy, polyandry, group marriages, communal spouses, cousin weddings, same-sex unions, adoptive marriages, abduction rites, you name it.
The Holy Alliance permitted any form, depending on religion—as long as you could get a god's blessing.
Even Amazon-style "kidnap hubby, bear child, kill him" was kosher.
Naturally, fights erupted daily among followers, priests, even gods.
Stepping in each time: the High Priestess.
In other words, this deadpan girl had mediated every bizarre marriage custom imaginable.
Pointing out polygamy or husband-sharing to her would just earn a "So?"
'...Screw it, I give up.'
Rimon quit thinking.
Ignore her long enough, and her solo pursuit would fizzle out.
A worldly old man's calloused decision, knowing eternal love was a myth.
That's why his next question came out of nowhere.
"Anyway, Aynsha. That thing you mentioned before—can you do it now?"
"Of course. Anytime."
"Great. I'll ask in a bit, then."
"Leave it to me."
An obvious deflection.
Did she not notice?
Or ignore it?
Aynsha boldly vowed with her blank face, adding another chopstick of greens to Rimon's bowl.
Staring at his now-collapsed banchan avalanche, Rimon second-guessed letting this fool run loose.
A short while later.
After a chaotic meal and a cleared table, Rimon placed the box he'd brought on it.
The moment he opened it,
Aynsha let out a short gasp, her face impassive.
"...Impressive as expected."
"Recognize it?"
"Of course. I'm the Holy Alliance's High Priestess. Magic tools are daily life."
A dog in a schoolyard chants poetry after three years.
How much more for Aynsha, who'd spent her life in and out of temples?
She'd spot the violin’s immense magical aura—no way around it, like the Heartblack Violin's overwhelming presence.
"But tools this potent are rare even in the Holy Alliance. Stronger than most holy relics."
"I figured it was pretty top-tier, but relic-comparable?"
"Yes. One like this could shift a church's entire prestige."
"Yeah, I get that."
Rimon nodded.
Even post-Silver Age, priest- and witch-forged magic tools were treasures.
Chatting across distances.
Water from deserts.
Prolonged youth.
They warped natural laws.
Relic-tier ones were strategic weapons, each and every.
Dungeons flooded items, devaluing tools overall, but their power endured.
"Still, no clue why it's cursed."
"Complicated backstory..."
...Even the mightiest tool was still a cursed item, then and now.
But Rimon skipped the Heartblack Violin's tale.
Seriously, he asked,
"More importantly—can your foresight ID this violin, or pinpoint the other Seven Arcs?"
"Let's see."
Aynsha pulled out her curse-warding beads, wrapped them tight, summoned her psyonic energy, and reached out.
The instant she grasped the violin,
A white glow lit her eyes.