Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Not a Quack
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From the very beginning, why had Evelyn demanded such an outrageous sum from me?
There were several hypotheses I could come up with for the reason, but only one stood out as the most plausible.
What she truly wanted wasn't money at all.
Binding me with a "debt" of that magnitude meant she intended to demand something equivalent as collateral.
And that something was a task only I could perform.
Evelyn herself surely knew I could never repay the full amount in cash.
In other words, this was all calculated.
She'd set it up so I couldn't pay it off with money, then demand information, judgment, and choices in return.
It had been the same way when we first met.
Ten years before the original story's timeline.
Among the events that shook the Abellan Kingdom, there were pivotal ones that weren't officially recorded.
At this point, all I knew about was the Versailles Barony's drug trafficking, but I was aware there were plenty more landmines waiting to explode someday.
And.
The expression on Evelyn's face as she sat across from me now only strengthened my hypothesis.
A sullen look.
The face of someone who'd failed to hide their displeasure.
I slowly opened my mouth.
"So, you had something in mind that you wanted me to do as the 'trigger' for repaying this debt, didn't you?"
"Kuh...!"
Evelyn gritted her teeth.
"To think you'd noticed...! No, even so, how can a debtor like you order lobster steamed for lunch in broad daylight! There's a limit to extravagance!"
I shrugged.
"It's a debt I couldn't repay with money anyway. In that case, might as well enjoy it."
And finally, I twisted the knife a bit more.
"Next time you want to throw a tantrum like this, at least suggest an amount that's bearable enough to give false hope. That way, it'll actually have some effect, Your Highness."
"Grrrr...!"
Evelyn's face visibly twisted.
Ah, there it was.
This reaction.
My guess had definitely been spot on.
"By the way, Your Highness, where are we headed?"
After the carriage set off, Piel couldn't hold back and spoke first.
With no explanation whatsoever, Evelyn had barged into the annex right after the meal ended and loaded me up along with the maids.
Piel and Aira had boarded the carriage as if it were only natural, simply because they were my exclusive maids.
And this carriage, emblazoned with the clear emblem of Abellan, was on a whole different level from any I'd ridden before.
It was almost insulting to compare it to the cargo wagons from my slave days.
Plush seats.
Smooth, jolt-free ride.
A subtle fragrance permeating the air.
Perhaps finding it all so novel, Piel was wagging her tail left and right without even thinking to hide it.
She seemed utterly fascinated by her first ride in a "real noble carriage."
Watching her, the sullen expression lingering on Evelyn's lips softened a little.
It was the face of someone who'd momentarily forgotten her irritation with me.
"We're heading to the Raltos Family's territory right now, Piel."
"Ral... tos?"
While Piel tilted her head, Aira reacted first.
"Raltos... isn't that one of the Abellan Empire's four great noble houses?"
"That's right, Princess Aira."
At those words, Aira's expression changed noticeably.
And I, too, swallowed briefly under my breath.
The Raltos Family.
One of the four great nobles representing the Abellan Empire alongside the Argent Family.
But in terms of disposition, they were the polar opposite of our house.
If the Argent Family had risen by gripping the empire's shadows through slaves, drugs, and backroom deals, then Raltos had climbed by crushing all that head-on.
Relief efforts.
Public works.
Support and sponsorship spread across the entire kingdom.
It wasn't a path to wealth.
Which was why, in terms of sheer assets, they were the weakest among the four great nobles.
But—
Public sentiment.
Trust.
And people.
In those, they yielded to no one.
If Argent represented the empire's "shadow," then Raltos embodied the "light" shining above it.
And she was taking us there now?
Me, of all people, carrying the blood of Argent, the worst possible match?
I hesitated for a moment before speaking up.
"Um... is it really okay for me to go?"
"Don't worry."
Evelyn smiled nonchalantly.
"I've already warned them not to jump to any unnecessary conclusions. Besides, the Raltos Family is one of the houses sponsoring our Ashen Hand."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Hehe."
She shrugged.
"It wouldn't make sense otherwise. No matter how brilliant or genius a princess I'm called, I was much younger when I founded Ashen Hand. How could I have built a secret organization of that scale all by myself?"
...Ah.
The moment I heard that, something clicked in my mind.
Until now, I'd dismissed that setting as just "self-insert daughter" nonsense.
Even in fantasy, it was ridiculous for a six-year-old princess to create an organization like this alone.
But if the Raltos Family had been backing them from the shadows, it all made perfect sense.
That explained why the original story mentioned the Raltos Family so sparingly.
And at the end of that realization, I naturally arrived at one conclusion.
Why the Raltos Family had been utterly eradicated on charges of "treason against the empire" right at the story's start.
It wasn't coincidence or sudden betrayal.
'One of the nobles whose heads rolled immediately to set the tragic tone was Raltos...'
They must have been exposed.
Whether it was their link to Ashen Hand or something even deeper.
And now that I knew this, I couldn't just stand by and watch the Raltos Family fall.
Because Ashen Hand was the one "safe haven" that would later let me escape to the continent's outskirts to survive, per the original story.
"Ah, looks like we've arrived."
The carriage's speed slowed noticeably.
Visible through the window now was a territory that evoked an orchard, warm and inviting.
If the Argent territory felt like a realm of restraint, tension, and the chosen few, this place was different.
Despite the rigid class system of this world, it had an oddly open atmosphere, as if anyone—commoner or outcast—could naturally step inside.
The faces of the maids working throughout the territory were proof.
They weren't forced smiles.
Faces that accepted their lives, even amid fatigue.
Even with slave collars around their necks, people of all races and genders mingled, laughing and working together.
Having seen countless faces as a doctor in my past life, I could tell at a glance.
This wasn't acting or pretense.
At that moment, the carriage came to a complete stop.
"Welcome, Princess Evelyn."
A calm yet weighty voice.
The man greeting Evelyn, who had stepped out first, was extraordinary at first sight.
He stood nearly two meters tall, with a sturdy build like a building pillar.
An impossible giant by this era's standards—or even modern ones.
Yet, mismatched with his massive frame, a gentle smile graced his face.
Benevolent and relaxed, but not lighthearted eyes.
I recognized him immediately.
The head of the Raltos Family.
Alain Raltos.
"Yes. I hope things have been well, Lord Alain."
"Hoho, all is peaceful, thanks to you."
The two exchanged greetings as naturally as old acquaintances.
Soon, Alain shifted his gaze.
Toward Piel and Aira standing behind the carriage.
"Oh ho..."
His look wasn't appraising.
Not surveillance or contempt.
It was as if he saw the slaves as full "beings."
"These must be the children you mentioned, Your Highness. The valiant beastkin and the princess of the elf kingdom."
Aira bowed politely without missing a beat.
"It's an honor to meet you, my lord."
Piel hurriedly followed suit beside her.
"Y-Yes, an honor...!"
Alain neither clouded his gaze nor changed his demeanor at their slave status.
He simply nodded slowly, as if regarding each one individually.
...What a fine picture.
At least—
Until I, bearer of Argent blood, stood in this scene.
As Evelyn glanced around awkwardly before introducing me, the last to disembark,
A shadow finally crossed Alain's face for the first time.
The affable smile from moments ago hardened like a lie.
"And this is Lucas Argent, the one I told you about before, Lord Alain."
"...Ah. Yes."
A perfunctory reply.
In that single short phrase, his conclusion seemed already set.
"He looks a bit— well, honestly, like someone who'd get punched by a giant rat."
"...Your Highness?"
"But his skills are the real deal. And above all, he's proficient in medicine!"
Was it my imagination, or did a subtle curse slip into the explanation?
But such jokes had no effect on Alain's expression.
He stared straight at me.
His gaze held no curiosity or expectation.
Only blatant wariness and hostility.
I got it, though.
Setting aside bastardy or whatever, I was still human blood of the Argents.
"Your Highness."
Alain spoke.
"I understand what you're trying to say, but regarding the 'treatment' you mentioned last time... let's call it off."
"W-What?!"
Evelyn's eyes widened.
"Even if he's a bastard turned against his family, to entrust my body to that Argent bloodline."
He gave me a once-over.
From top to bottom.
Up to here, fine.
But the next moment.
"And to such a young boy at that. No matter the talent, he's ultimately at a 'child's level,' wouldn't you say."
Something snapped in my head.
I understood the dislike, the wariness.
But the time in my past life defying family opposition to become a doctor.
Blood, sweat, all-nighters, failures, responsibility.
Dismissing all that wholesale, judging my skills by age alone.
That grated—subtly, no, definitively.