Chapter 6
Chapter 6
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: The Secret Salon
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The butler training at the Salleon family was a sort of test.
It was an opportunity to house aspiring butlers in the mansion and weed out any with disqualifying flaws.
The standards were quite strict and unreasonable—enough to make one wonder who would even bother—but as expected of a duke's household, not only the first annex where I was staying but the second annex too were packed with butler hopefuls.
That said, most of them, like me, had other motives for being there, so the atmosphere was relaxed.
The butler candidates, bored out of their minds from the eight-week curfew, had started seducing the annex maids and turning the place into a hotbed of debauchery.
The candidates boasted about their conquests like war stories, while the maids bragged about which young master they were seeing.
And I was a victim of this licentious atmosphere.
"Ilrain. Do you have a moment?"
"Ugh."
How many times was this now?
The head maid, Joan, sighed as she called me over.
"What's the matter?"
She oversaw the butlers' training regimen and fixed me with a stern gaze.
"I heard you talking with Serena just now. What business did you have? And before that, you were chatting with Alyssa too."
"It was more like they summoned me over. I know what you're worried about, but I assure you it's not my fault."
I felt wronged.
Among the maids, seducing me had apparently become some kind of achievement, and the invitations never stopped.
Whether I was reading alone in the study or resting by myself in the garden, the requests to talk came relentlessly. I was at my wits' end.
Joan seemed to vaguely understand this, as she rubbed her forehead with a pained expression.
"If that's the case, I can't very well tell you to watch your behavior. Understood. I'll have a stern word with Serena and Alyssa."
Still, she apparently couldn't just let it slide.
"Starting tomorrow, the curfew will be lifted. It's a great chance to broaden your horizons—don't miss it."
In other words: go play outside the mansion.
Which was exactly what I wanted.
What had made the butler training so irritating was the curfew.
For the initial eight weeks, aside from time to attend the academy, we had to stay in the mansion without exception.
And today.
With the primary butler training concluded and the selections made, the curfew was finally lifted.
In a good light, it meant freedom; in a bad light, it meant de facto elimination from the butler candidacy.
"Is this the taste of freedom...? Reminds me of that hundred-day vacation."
Leaving the mansion, I headed to the central square—our rendezvous point.
My master, Ilya, was waiting there.
"Master!"
"Hm, you're early."
"Thanks for coming despite your busy schedule."
"No trouble. I had a commission in Gransel anyway, so don't worry about it."
My master had agreed to accompany me today as both bodyguard and guide. She knew the night streets and underworld well, making her perfect for the job.
"How's the butler training been?"
"Boring. Though, it's not entirely without its merits."
There was plenty to learn about upper-crust noble etiquette. The problem was that was all there was to it.
"Noble etiquette, huh. If I get the chance, I'd like to learn some myself. I run into nobles a lot these days."
"Come to think of it, you mentioned taking a commission from a count's family."
My master was steadily raising her profile as a mercenary. She'd reached the highest rank for mercenaries—S-class—before I knew it.
At this point, her rates were so exorbitant that even our family couldn't afford her as a tutor anymore. Yet, gratefully, she continued teaching me whenever she had time, without demanding extra pay.
"Yeah, from the Albad Kingdom. It was just an escort job, but escorts being what they are, appearances mattered a lot. They made such a fuss."
"I can imagine. High nobles probably fuss over pointless details."
"Heh, if you're up for it, teach me sometime. If it's you teaching, I might actually feel motivated."
"Gladly."
I led my master toward Gransel's back alleys.
Our territory was too small for slums like this, but a major city was different.
The night streets grew busier as evening fell.
No sooner had we entered than the smell of alcohol wafted faintly through the air, and people's attire shifted noticeably.
"You actually agreed to this. I figured with your personality, you'd say it was too early for such things."
"This much is child's play."
"Child's play?"
"Compared to places like Carsten or Etera, it's nothing. At least here, there are no slave markets or underground arenas."
"True. They must manage security tightly here."
Large slums were often half-abandoned by authorities.
They'd tightly control the perimeter but largely ignore what happened inside.
This place hadn't reached that level. Patrols dotted the alleys, rushing in at the first sign of a fight.
That was why high society had so many entertainment spots here.
High-end bars catering to nobles, racetracks, and the like.
"No races right now, it seems. Guess we'd need to come during the day."
"It's fine. I have a specific place in mind. But first..."
I needed something to cover my face.
I scanned nearby stalls for a mask but found none suitable.
Reading my intent, my master pointed to an alternative.
"If you're covering your face, how about a helmet? Since I'm with you, we can just say you're a mercenary."
"It'll block my vision a bit, but... sure."
I bought a plain gray helmet, donned it, and set off to properly explore Gransel's streets.
*
*
*
My purpose wandering the night streets boiled down to two things.
Scouting talent. And an experiment to build my wealth.
Both were weapons to avert my fated doom down the line.
'In the end, I need power.'
Als's downfall stemmed from a traitor's trap, but at root, he lacked backing.
No noble blood, no family prestige, no wealth.
With mediocre achievements on top of that, it was only natural his peers branded him incompetent.
'If Als had solid allies, things would have turned out differently.'
And he hadn't entirely lacked them.
'From game knowledge, Als had seven key allies.'
People who trusted and followed him even after he was branded a traitor and broke out of prison without permission.
In a way, they believed in Als more than the protagonist.
My plan was to quickly bring these people to my side first.
That foundation would secure my position, so when I joined the protagonist, not even the traitor could touch me.
Then, once I rooted out the traitor from our ranks, I could definitively dodge my demise.
'Though one of those seven allies might be the traitor.'
No evidence yet, so I'd gather them all first and sort it out later.
'In the Carlax battle, they technically turned from the protagonist to follow Als... Better to call them Als's Seven Retainers for now.'
Their in-game keywords were:
— Iron Fortress
— Saintess
— Relief Squad
— Crouching Dragon
— Mad Dog
— Famous Bowman
— "Volunteer Mercenary" Ilya Anpei
— ???
Beyond the seven, there was the mysterious armored figure who aided Als's prison break, but since I didn't know their identity, I'd ignore them for now.
'That makes six left out of eight...'
Yes. One of them.
The one-armed mercenary who doubted Als's fall and came to his aid with his mercenary unit.
Ilya Anpei was already at my side—as my master.
That strong sense of fate when we met? This was why.
"Do you have a moment?"
Visiting the black market, I set about gathering intel on them.
'Saintess, Crouching Dragon, Relief Squad, and Famous Bowman should come naturally by following the main story, so no rush...'
But Mad Dog and Iron Fortress were different.
Even slight story changes could erase their encounter events entirely.
For those two, it was better if I scooped them up myself ahead of the protagonist.
"Hm, aside from one, these are all new names to me."
"One being?"
The info broker shrugged and continued.
"I know about the Rosenberg one's whereabouts. It's a few days old, but still."
"As expected."
Iron Fortress Rosenberg. He'd surfaced.
Encouraging news. Rosenberg had special circumstances, so if I met the conditions, scouting him would be highly likely.
"Want that info?"
"Tell me."
"Five thousand silan."
I paid, and he handed over a letter-form document.
"Anything else?"
"Then, the location of Gransel's secret salon?"
"Ten thousand silan. Think of it less as info and more as an entry fee."
Pricey entry fee, but I'd treat it as an investment.
After paying ten thousand in gold coin for the salon's location, I headed back to my waiting master and filled her in.
She called me a troublemaker with an exasperated look but followed anyway.
Gransel's secret salon was essentially a casino.
It had an elegant, antique vibe, frequented by nobles.
Sure enough, the highest-stakes game was chess.
And that was precisely why I'd come here.
'Time to earn some pocket money.'
Beyond pocket change, I wanted to gauge the overall chess level of this world's knights.
"Als, what the hell are you doing?"
"What? I'm just entering a betting chess match."
"No, I mean..."
My master clutched her head in frustration but soon nodded.
"Well, it'll be a good experience."
She figured I'd get trounced.
From my perspective, losing even one game would be the real shock.
Charging straight into the match hall got me turned away, as expected.
"No unverified identity may participate. Please leave."
"Tch."
Of course they wouldn't let just anyone play.
"My identity won't do?"
"And you are...?"
"Ilya Anpei. S-class mercenary with the Mercenary Association."
"I-Ilya Anpei!"
The doorman's startled flinch.
S-class mercenaries numbered fewer than twenty across the continent. Especially my master, active mainly in the eastern continent including the Caliper Kingdom, had quite the reputation.
"You wish to compete?"
"No, my companion here will..."
My master hesitated on how to introduce me.
I jumped in quick, scraping my voice to disguise it.
"Wade the mercenary."
The no-spend god of Athena War Tales, Wade, had arrived.
"Very well. State your bet amount, and I'll guide you to the hall."
"One hundred thousand silan."
The sum I'd scrimped together from two years of no pocket money.
About a million won in Korean currency.
"One hundred thousand silan... Head to match room 21."
"Thanks."
Apparently not a huge bet, as they directed me to a back room.
A hollow-eyed man sat waiting.
He eyed my master warily but relaxed slightly when I took the seat.
"What's the bet amount?"
"Isn't it obvious? All one hundred thousand silan."
"Not feeling that. Start at fifty thousand?"
Losing fifty thousand twice or one hundred thousand at once—same difference.
Still, I got his desire for multiple chances.
"Fifty thousand it is."
"I'll take white. I was here first."
"Suit yourself."
The man opened with white.
To keep him from fleeing after fifty thousand, I let him think he had a shot and claimed victory.
"Check."
"I lost... Next match right away."
"Pay the fifty thousand first."
"Damn."
I caught the money pouch he tossed and handed it to my master.
She stared blankly, unable to believe my win.
After fleecing his full one hundred thousand, I stashed my initial stake and used the winnings to find new opponents.
That became two hundred thousand. Four hundred thousand. Eight hundred thousand. Up to one million six hundred thousand silan, and the room buzzed.
At that point, no opponents remained.
'About time for the bait to bite.'
Sure enough, soon...
"Got a moment?"
An elderly man who seemed to be the salon manager.
"You look quite skilled. Care to face our salon champion?"
"Absolutely. These small-time matches were getting dull—perfect timing."
"Such spirit! I love it. We'll prepare the hall right away!"
The whole salon stirred with him.
The air was electric, like a long-awaited event unfolding.
'Good. He bit.'
No longer simple betting chess.
The real gambling den was about to open.