Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Anya Hilton
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Anya Hilton.
She was the head of the Hilton Merchant Guild, one of the Empire's three great trading houses, and also the host of the Arneisan Ship Masquerade Ball.
She was also someone Damian absolutely had to meet. The Hilton family owned two volumes of the Book of Hell among their collections.
Before his regression, a chain of events had caused the Hilton Merchant Guild to collapse, and Anya had vanished. All of her collections ended up at auction.
The other items were so overwhelming that no one paid attention to a couple of tattered old books. Thanks to that, he had been able to bid on them for a shockingly low price.
That wasn't the case now. No matter what the collection consisted of, once something entered the Hilton family's possession, they never let it go back out into the world.
Waiting around for them to fall apart would take far too much time. On top of that, both she and the Hilton Merchant Guild needed to stay intact.
“Damian Renekht is entering.”
With the guard's booming announcement, all eyes on the cruise liner turned to Damian.
He was the only one from the imperial bloodline attending today's masquerade ball.
One of Damian's nicknames was the lowliest among the noble-born.
He might be scorned within the palace walls, but places like this were different.
Unless it was a house on the level of Rubia's Clarent family, no one could treat him with open contempt to his face.
Even an illegitimate child was a direct descendant of the current Emperor. No matter what they thought deep down, they had to show proper respect on the surface.
The Arneisan Ship Masquerade Ball was attended mainly by the children of mid- and low-ranking nobles from around the capital.
Of course, the Hilton Merchant Guild sent invitations to time-honored noble houses across the continent, but their attendance was rare enough to count on one hand.
The event's history wasn't all that long, since it was hosted by a merchant guild. High nobles had no desire to lower their own standing by showing up to such gatherings.
That was why Arkin had frequented this particular masquerade.
It was hard to stand out amid brothers or the children of other great nobles. He couldn't grab the spotlight.
A ball of this caliber was a different story. Here, he could play the big man and receive the deference he craved.
“It's an honor to meet you, Damian.”
“I was so thrilled when I heard you were coming, Damian.”
“Today's masquerade will shine even brighter thanks to you, Damian.”
Most of them hid their true feelings, as if they were all wearing masks. They were probably thinking to themselves why they had to bow their heads to the blood of some lowly dancer.
“Rumors don't do you justice.”
“Will you remember my name?”
“Oh, I'm feeling faint. Can I lean on you just for a moment?”
A few among them showed something closer to sincerity.
They were mostly noble maidens, peeking over their fans with meaningful glances or even darting out their tongues to wet their lower lips.
Damian's looks were already the talk of the Empire. He was the blood of the dancer who had stolen the Emperor's heart, after all.
Even Rubia of the purple lightning, who was engaged to the 1st Prince Michael, kept sending him letters of courtship.
What was more, he had previously seemed like a delicate glass doll that might shatter at the slightest touch. Now, his complexion glowed with health, and his body was robust and strong.
It might be awkward to form an official bond, but taking him as a lover at least once was something of a dream for girls of noble birth at this age.
“The magic you used on Prince Arkin…”
“Was it truly the teachings of the eccentric Ezekiel?”
“If there's a chance, could you maybe show us a little…”
“When did you awaken your unique color?”
The others showing interest in Damian were mages—serious ones who delved deep into magic, not the sort of nobles who merely dabbled as a hobby.
The green flames Damian had wielded followed a trajectory utterly different from standard fire magic. Any true mage would naturally be curious.
Damian fended off the gathering crowd with suitable deflections as he moved deeper into the ballroom.
He wasn't here to build connections with his peers. His top priority right now was drawing Anya's attention.
‘There it is.’
At a small table sat two young men, deep in the midst of some game.
One of the youths rolled a pair of dice.
“It's done—done!! I win! Victory is mine!!”
He leaped from his seat with a triumphant shout. His opponent clutched his head and groaned.
“That's five straight wins already. Looks like there's no one at this masquerade who can match my quick thinking. Ahahaha!”
Anytic.
It was a game that combined elements of chess, cards, and dice. As the name implied, Anya herself had devised it.
“Oh, would you care to give it a try, Damian?”
Damian smoothly took the seat vacated by the loser.
“You might not be familiar, Damian, but the name of this game is Anytic, and…”
The youth, who introduced himself as Colhen, eagerly showed off everything he knew as he explained the rules.
Damian simply listened without asking questions. To Colhen, that looked like a failure to grasp the rules.
“Well, it might be a bit tricky for someone like you, Damian. You're more the type for artistic pursuits than logical games.”
Colhen raised one eyebrow as he spoke. A few onlookers who caught his meaning covered their mouths and snickered.
Even art had its classes. Painting and sculpture, orchestral music—these belonged to nobles. Acrobatics and bawdy songs were the domain of commoners.
And among them all, street dancers like Damian's mother received the lowest regard.
Most of them wandered without a fixed home, and some even sold their bodies in addition to performing dances.
The crowds might cheer and praise their beauty in the moment, but no one sought true love with them.
Damian's own father—the current Emperor, who secluded himself in the palace—was one such twisted soul.
Colhen seemed to think Damian wouldn't catch on to barbs like that. But he was wrong.
Human thoughts weren't all that original, and Damian had encountered far too many people just like Colhen.
He could have picked apart each of Colhen's words and exacted a price for them. But he saw no reason to.
There was no point stirring up trouble here.
“I'd rather learn by doing than just listening to explanations.”
“Haha. As you wish, Damian. I'll concede the first turn to you.”
Colhen flashed a sly grin as he handed the dice to Damian.
Dozens of minutes later.
“Ah…. Uh….”
Colhen awkwardly rubbed his chin. His earlier smug smile was long gone.
“We've played a total of ten rounds now. Don't you think it's time to let others have a turn?”
Damian tapped the table lightly as he spoke.
10 to 0.
Damian had won every single game. And by overwhelming margins.
The first one or two could be dismissed as beginner's luck, but as it repeated, no one could hide their shock.
‘It's been a while. This is fun.’
Setting aside the reactions around him, Damian was simply pleased that he could play Anytic again. It had been one of his few pleasures before the regression.
For months after its official release, he'd been obsessed with it to the exclusion of eating and sleeping.
Once proper matches stopped happening with the people in his detached palace, he'd even sneaked out in disguise to find opponents.
Colhen was no match for him in terms of experience or skill. On top of that, Damian knew the game's fatal flaw.
Anytic wasn't just a simple board game. Each piece was a small magic tool, all interconnected, producing varied reactions based on choices.
The outcomes were supposed to be random, but under certain conditions, you could force predetermined results.
Damian's victory was a given, but the crushing score difference came from exploiting that exact flaw.
In the past, Damian had sent a letter to Anya upon first discovering it. Instead of thanks, he'd received a reply brimming with fury.
She insisted that no such flaw could exist in the perfect game that bore her name. That he must be mistaken.
But not long after, the flaw was publicly announced through the Hilton Merchant Guild, and all existing copies were recalled.
‘Anya Hilton. I wonder where you're watching from.’
It was a masquerade hosted by the Hilton Merchant Guild, so Anya herself was likely here in disguise—or at least, she'd sent someone.
She wouldn't be able to sit still watching someone toy with her beloved game like this.
An incident breaking out at the masquerade wouldn't be a problem, but it was better to make contact with Anya first and steer things so nothing happened at all.
That way, he could prevent the Hilton Merchant Guild's downfall. In exchange, he'd demand the Book of Hell from her warehouse as his reward.
“Damian.”
A woman's voice came from behind him.
He thought it might be Anya or one of her people, but the reactions of those around him said otherwise.
Everyone carefully stepped aside, clearing a path—as if Damian and this woman simply had to meet.
“It's about time we met.”
Damian blinked for a few seconds as he regarded the girl his age.
“Ah.”
Anna's strange reaction when he'd mentioned attending the Arneisan Ship Masquerade Ball finally made sense.
Agnes Schubert.
Damian's fiancée gave him a small smile.
* * *
“I apologize. I was so focused on my training that I only managed to send a few letters.”
Damian did remember. But Agnes had been in training at the time, so he hadn't received any replies.
Rubia's letters, which arrived at irregular intervals, had demanded far more of his attention anyway, so Agnes's perfunctory ones hadn't stuck in his memory.
Before the regression, Agnes hadn't been involved in the incident at the Arneisan Ship Masquerade Ball. Her presence here was the result of Damian's own choices.
Damian and Agnes moved to a quieter spot at the stern.
Her short black hair fell just to her earlobes, framing a neutral face whose lines weren't all that slender.
The neat dress suited her well enough, but she would look even better in active attire with a sword at her side.
Agnes offered him a flute of champagne. The sound of rising bubbles mingled with the clink of glass against glass.
“You've… changed so much.”
The last time Agnes had seen Damian was three years ago.
Aside from their faces, the Damian of then and the Damian of now were completely different people.
Agnes was tall for a girl, but now she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
He had clearly trained in magic, not aura, yet his broad shoulders and solid muscles rivaled any knight's.
“I heard about your duel with Prince Arkin. As someone of imperial blood, I knew you must have had talent like that.”
Agnes smiled radiantly as she spoke, her pride in her fiancé plain on her face.
From there, she continued the conversation, carefully gauging his intentions. The topics flowed lightly yet engagingly, like water.
She didn't forget to read his expressions and shift subjects midway. She tailored herself perfectly to him, killing off any trace of her true self.
Ha. She was so perfectly ideal that Damian let out a sigh.
“Did I say something wrong, Damian?”
Agnes tilted her head, her clear eyes sparkling innocently. But Damian knew he wasn't reflected in them.
“Acting. You don't have to keep it up here.”
Damian looked down at Agnes—the girl who would one day declare their engagement broken—and said as much.