VIP
“Kyaa~ Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek. No, you mustn’t~.”
“Mustn’t my ass. Who do you think keeps your old man’s purified water business afloat?”
Masks adorned with glittering jewels fled from the beast. With their corsets and petticoats cast aside, only the sheerest chemise dresses veiled the women’s bare skin.
“Whoever gets caught, I’ll take you right here on the spot!”
Byeon Gyeongbaek, his eyes blindfolded by someone’s ribbon, flailed his arms wildly, his grin stretching ear to ear. Feathers flew endlessly from the feather pillows swung to shove him away.
“Over here, my lord~.”
“No, this way, Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek~.”
“I’m right here.”
Moonlight pierced through the windows, illuminating the pale curves beneath their dresses. The sensual sinners, veiling the groom’s eyes, began shedding their civilized facades one after another.
Swish— The sound of fabric slipping away licked at his eardrums.
His blinded eyes strained in the darkness, seeking light.
“Such lewd creatures. As Lord of Manrmursk, I cannot but punish you all!”
The beast’s throbbing arousal grew more frantic. Any beauty he caught tonight would not walk out of this room.
“Hah... just try... catching... hah, me... Ugh, why am I so out of breath...”
Was this the price of his debauched life? Just leaping between beds left Byeon Gyeongbaek gasping, breath catching in his throat.
“Tired already, my lord?”
“Hang in there a bit longer! My lord!”
“It’s so cold~ But why do I feel cold~?”
The voices grew clearer with every word, yet his legs grew heavier, as if sinking into a swamp.
“Uh... yeah, stay right there. Soon... I’ll get you all...”
“...Hah.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Got it.”
“...My lord. Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek.”
“Just... hah... a bit more rest... hah... You thought I’d say that!? Gotcha! ...Huh?”
It wasn’t the soft touch he’d expected. He’d handpicked these ladies from the young nobles fawning over him at Palatium, even checked them personally. There was no way he should feel this stone-hard texture...
“Lord Byeon Gyeongbaek. Please let go of me.”
“Gaaah! Cough! G-Gustav?”
The luxurious carriage barely swayed. In its vast interior, meant for just the two of them, Gustav stared silently at the Lord of Manrmursk.
“Wh-what?! Gustav, why the hell are you here?! No, urk... cough. And what’s this?”
Ignoring Byeon Gyeongbaek as he scrambled away in horror, Gustav wordlessly opened the carriage window. Fresh, crisp air filled his lungs, and memories slowly returned.
“What the...? Why am I wearing a corset?”
“That’s what I’d like to ask you, my lord. Just how far did things go at Palatium...? Never mind.”
Whoosh! The corset of whalebone and wood finally released his chest.
“Phew! Ah, now I can breathe. How the hell do women laugh in these things?”
“It’s not called women’s armor for nothing.”
“Armor my ass... Gimme some water.”
Ice-cold water stomped over the spot carved out by the spring breeze. His dormant stomach twisted, sending the lingering booze stench up his throat.
“Urk... damn... Good liquor’s supposed to have no hangover, my ass. Open the window... Oh, it’s already open. Hoo...”
Not satisfied with the breeze, he thrust his head out the window. The coachman, glancing back in alarm before saluting hastily, brought a satisfied smirk to his face. Byeon Gyeongbaek waved lazily, savoring the freshness with his whole body. It felt like every pore was breathing, awakening his nerves.
“...It’s spring, but the air’s still chilly.”
“Ah, y-yes. Coming back in.”
Like a child sulking to his father, Byeon Gyeongbaek grumbled curtly and retreated inside.
“Is your stomach settled?”
“Don’t talk. The fishy aftertaste on my tongue’s driving me mad.”
The loyal knight, taking the quip literally, shut his mouth. Instead, he pulled a fine envelope from his breast pocket and offered it.
“What’s this?”
Nobles usually marked their letters clearly—family crests stamped in wax, symbols on the envelope—so the recipient knew at a glance. This plain one screamed non-noble sender, yet the paper was far too luxurious.
“I told you to put unimportant stuff on my desk. I’ll read it eventually.”
“Sukan, Moribwe, and Fraia request your attendance at the Round Table Meeting.”
Pffft! The last drops of water he’d gulped sprayed out.
Wiping his mouth casually, Byeon Gyeongbaek tore open the envelope and began reading.
To the Esteemed Lord of Manrmursk, Byeon Gyeongbaek,
The Electors of Sukan, Moribwe, and Fraia hereby formally request your presence at the forthcoming Round Table Meeting. Matters of grave import to the Empire's stability demand your wisdom and voice.
In unity and vigilance,
The Signatories of Sukan, Moribwe, and Fraia
* * *
Hans Goldcoin, deputy manager of Gold Mountain’s Manrmursk branch, was a simple man. More precisely, he’d become one.
Once a young banker burning to seize all the gold in the world, he was now an old man whose inner fire had guttered out. The world was vast, and he’d learned the hard way that passion and effort couldn’t bridge gaps in raw talent.
‘Play it long and thin... that’s the way... yeah.’
Of course, clawing his way to deputy manager hadn’t been easy. Bosses above hounding him, eager newbies below nipping at his heels. He’d survived the grind and claimed this spot.
No more, no less—just coasting quietly toward retirement, unnoticed by headquarters. Not the life his ambitious youth had dreamed of, but a badge of honor from those days.
Clack! Clack! Clack! Urgent heels echoed down the hall.
‘I told them not to lose composure even in the halls... tsk.’
Modern staff had less dignity than gold dust. He kept his face neutral, though.
Knock knock!
“Come in~.”
No trace of irritation in his voice. Displaying emotion physically? Amateur hour. He’d graduated that long ago.
“V-VIP window, Elsa here! Pardon the intrusion, Deputy Manager!”
“Hoho. What’s the rush, Elsa? Catch your breath first.”
Panting like she’d taken stairs two at a time, she straightened her uniform befitting Gold Mountain and thrust out a check.
“The manager said to handle decent sums at the VIP window ourselves...!”
Taking it leisurely, Hans Goldcoin’s eyes bulged like a third-rate banker’s.
* * *
“What on earth did you show them to make them panic like that?”
“Heh. I just handed over a check.”
“Not a forgery or something, right?”
“Hahaha. I may be a bread-lover, but I don’t mess around with money.”
To outsiders, Ilka and Seolhwa looked like grandfather and grandson trading jests. The teller who’d snatched the check bolted back with a higher-up in tow.
“Welcome to Gold Mountain Manrmursk. I’m Deputy Manager Hans Goldcoin.”
Gasping from his hurried descent, the old man introduced himself as such.
“Oh? New here, I see. Pleased to meet you. Ilka Pavola.”
“Ahaha... Yes. You must be a long-time client of our branch. Not here, please—let’s go to the VIP lounge. This way.”
Tellers stood, bowing deeply to Ilka and Seolhwa.
—What the hell was that check?
—Beats me... Never thought of it as special, so...
Whispering just out of earshot, they reached the lounge. Red carpets from distant eastern lands, familiar masterpieces from textbooks, furniture blending antique patina with pristine upkeep. Fit for the Empire’s capital five-star hotels.
“Please, sit wherever you like.”
“My thanks for the hospitality.”
Staff in matching uniforms took their coats.
“What beverage would you prefer? Not to boast, but... my hobby’s tea ceremony, so we’ve a wide selection.”
“Oo... Refined taste. Might I trouble you for Moribwe Karakoli coffee?”
A name he’d never heard—hell, was it even coffee?
“Oh ho! Excellent choice, Lord Ilka. Of course! And for your companion?”
“Ah... Just green tea for me.”
Beans grinding, powder mixing—the aromas tickled their noses.
“Is Manager Nikkelen out?”
“Manager Nikkelen? Ah...! It’s been ages since you last visited our Manrmursk branch, Lord Ilka. He retired two years back.”
“Heh... Time flies, indeed.”
“Quite. Days race like arrows from slack bows.”
Hahaha— A strange camaraderie bloomed between Ilka and Hans, both in life’s latter legs.
“Ah, Moribwe Karakoli coffee—clean and crisp anytime!”
“Agreed. That smooth body keeps you coming back.”
“This green tea’s the best I’ve had.”
“Hahaha. Too kind.”
Staff bowed lightly and glided out soundlessly. How, in heels?
“That said... this ‘unlimited’ check. Thirty-plus years at Gold Mountain, first time seeing one in person.”
“Second time using it, myself.”
“Checked the records. How much to transfer this time?”
“Ah, no transfer—withdrawal.”
Ilka’s past large transfers? Seolhwa tucked the intel away.
“Understood. Name the amount; we’ll prepare gold coins at once. How much?”
“300 million gold.”
Everything froze. Seolhwa mid-sip, Hans savoring beans, even the lurking VIP teller outside.
“Gold coins and checks—300 million gold withdrawal, please.”
Only Ilka stroked his lush beard, smiling faintly.