Chapter 255: "The Beauty"
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 255: "The Beauty"
An avenger, huh...
While the position of Lower District Magistrate wasn't exactly a top-tier office in the grand scheme of Belland—much like how a mayor of a provincial capital always has a crowd of superiors pressing down on him—it was still a position of significant practical power.
And besides...
Now that he had consolidated the underground gangs of the Lower District, and the government had sent in a Magistrate who hated those people to their very marrow...
The people who had reached their tentacles into the Lower District to launder dirty money were likely going to have a very miserable time in the future.
"Since you've put it that way, it would be rude of me to refuse again."
Muen sighed softly and sat back down in his chair.
After a moment's thought, before Sean could say anything, Muen suddenly beckoned a waiter over and whispered a few instructions.
A moment later, a set of cutlery was placed where the rose had been. Red wine was poured, and a bright, warm candle was lit. The waiter respectfully pulled the soft, comfortable chair back a short distance, as if waiting for a lady to take her seat.
The appetizers were served—three portions.
"This... this is..." Sean was slightly stunned.
"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm simply inviting an invisible, beautiful lady to join us for dinner. It has nothing to do with a rough fellow like you."
Muen raised his wine glass and lightly tapped it against the empty air.
"So, don't feel like you owe me anything extra. If you want to return the favor... then find a way to bring her back to life so she can thank me in person."
"..."
Muen’s words were somewhat roguish. How could the dead possibly return to life?
But Sean’s eyes suddenly reddened. He looked at the empty seat bathed in the flickering candlelight, where a slender shadow seemed to sway. A flash of longing crossed his eyes.
He pressed his thin lips together firmly, seemingly reaching a decision. He turned to Muen and said earnestly:
"Young Master Muen, if there is ever a time you have need of me, please, you must—"
"Hold on."
Muen suddenly raised a hand to cut him off.
"You've only just taken office, and you're already thinking about forming factions for private gain? That’s not a good look."
He gave a mock-playful smile.
"Isn't your primary task right now to be a good Magistrate? I imagine His Majesty must be disgusted with the incompetence of the previous Magistrates. If you don't produce results, everything else is just empty talk."
"That goes without saying."
Sean straightened his back. "The moment I received my appointment, I swore at my wife's tombstone that I would never let such a tragedy happen again. Becoming an excellent Magistrate is merely my first goal!"
"Good to hear."
Looking at the resolve in Sean’s eyes, Muen couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.
Even with a hatred as sharp as a blade in his heart, the man hadn't been blinded by it.
No wonder his father had praised Sean's excellence.
"But since you've said all that, there is one thing I must confirm with you again," Muen said, his expression suddenly turning stern as he changed the subject.
"What is it?"
Seeing Muen look so serious, Sean subconsciously tensed up. Young Master Muen rarely makes requests; I must be ready to give it my all and show my—
"That beautiful violinist you mentioned..."
Muen crossed his hands under his chin, a gem-like glint suddenly flashing in his deep blue eyes.
"Is she the real deal?"
"..."
Sean froze.
He looked at Muen’s face, which didn't seem to be joking at all and was even more serious than before. The heavy, solemn atmosphere in Sean's eyes instantly collapsed.
He let out a relaxed chuckle—the first since he had started talking about his wife—and sighed.
"Young Master Muen, you truly are... quite a character. You're completely different from the rumors, yet somehow, you're exactly like them."
Seeing the atmosphere at the table finally return to the peace and ease a normal dinner should have, Muen smiled nonchalantly.
"Cut the chatter. I just want to know if the 'beautiful girl' part is guaranteed. To be called a 'virtuoso'... she'd better be a beauty. I don't want some middle-aged auntie walking out in a minute."
"The 'beauty' part is just the restaurant's promotion. I haven't seen her with my own eyes either, but..."
Sean turned his head, his eyes reflecting the small stage as that nostalgic expression returned.
"I met my wife for the first time in this very restaurant. At the time, she was a student at the music academy, playing here to earn a living.
"Back then, I was captivated by her after hearing just her first piece. So, while this restaurant might not match the luxury of the places the lords in the Upper District frequent, you needn't worry about their taste in talent."
"Is that so?"
Muen raised an eyebrow and looked toward the center of the restaurant.
"Then I'll look forward to it."
*
About fifteen minutes later.
After Muen had swept through the feast—which was impressive enough to earn even his praise—with an elegant yet fierce efficiency, he finally reached about seventy percent fullness. Just then, the beautiful violinist made her graceful entrance under the glowing stage lights.
The entire restaurant fell silent. Muen stopped what he was doing and turned his head in anticipation.
Then, his expression froze.
After a moment of stunned silence, Muen slowly turned his head back to look at Sean, who looked equally dazed. Muen asked in a pained voice:
"You said she was a beauty, but where's the face?"
Indeed, the violinist was wearing a black evening gown that accentuated her excellent, curvaceous figure.
Yes, her legs were long, her waist was slender, her skin was fair, and her bust was impressively large.
But the problem was...
The most important part of a beauty—the face—was a total blur.
Literally, a total blur.
It was as if a layer of hazy mist was swirling over her features. Forget about whether she was pretty; you couldn't even make out her nose, eyes, or mouth.
"This... I'm not sure either," Sean said, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Perhaps her playing is so outstanding that her appearance simply doesn't matter."
Muen’s mouth twitched.
A live musical performance wasn't just an auditory experience; the performer's expressions and movements provided a different sensory layer for the audience.
If she were like those fairies or goddesses in novels who wore a veil or a half-mask, it would at least spark the imagination. But what was the point of using magic to plaster a bunch of pixels over her face?
It was like a husband buying new lingerie, excitedly waiting to spend a wonderful night with his wife, only for the wife to shyly say:
“Honey, I’m a bit embarrassed like this. How about... you put the lingerie over my face instead?”
The mood was completely killed!
...
The previously quiet restaurant began to grow noisy, punctuated by occasional shouts of anger.
It seemed the other guests were also highly dissatisfied with the restaurant pushing out this "mosaic spirit."
Strangely, even though the discontent was reaching a boiling point, the restaurant only sent waiters to soothe the crowd. They made no move to replace her or force the "beautiful" violinist to show her face.
Are they really that confident?
As the "beauty" raised her violin and the performance was about to begin, Muen felt a flicker of interest return.
Muen rubbed his chin, his gaze fixed directly on the exquisite curves outlined by the evening gown.
They're so huge... even bigger than Senior Sister's...
Something that earth-shattering...
I feel like I've seen them somewhere before.