Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Salon Mascal
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Salon Mascal was a place that starkly revealed the other side of Troven's high society.
In truth, the social circles of the nobility were nothing short of a battlefield where families compared and flaunted their prestige, weighing the pros and cons of strategic marriages.
In such a place, romance was something only naive fools would attempt.
But Salon Mascal was different.
This was a meeting place completely removed from the public eye.
A place where everyone from nobles to wealthy merchants, regardless of age or gender, could meet a partner they liked and enjoy themselves.
Because they wore masks and operated anonymously, they could experience a night of deviance.
Moreover, if they genuinely liked their partner, they could even continue the relationship outside of Salon Mascal.
"How interesting."
The madam's voice, now seemingly calmer, tickled my ear.
I tilted my head slightly to look at her and gave a faint smile.
A VIP had shown up for the first time in nearly twenty years, and he was a young man.
It was only natural for her to be puzzled.
Though she seemed to have aged gracefully, the madam too could not escape the flow of time.
No matter how skilled her makeup, she couldn't completely hide the wrinkles around her neck and mouth.
I casually tossed a question at her.
"What's so interesting?"
"Don't you know better than anyone?"
"That the man who appeared after several decades has become drastically younger?"
"In principle, our Salon Mascal does not permit the inheritance of unique passwords."
As she said, one could not use another's password to enter this place.
That held true even for a father and son.
But I paid it no mind and asserted my identity.
I'd lived my life with a face of steel; what was a little impersonation?
"What if it's not an inheritance?"
"That's impossible. Because he is dead."
The madam stared at me with eyes full of suspicion.
The password I had just used belonged to Kane, the young lord of the Riverune family, who had died nineteen years ago.
Who didn't know that the House of Riverune had fallen?
The madam of Salon Mascal, in particular, would know better than anyone.
After all, in my past life, I had frequented this place constantly.
But I curled the corners of my lips into a relaxed smile and replied.
"The Jackal of the South is not dead. He was merely crouching, sharpening his claws."
"...Is that possible?"
she asked in a trembling voice.
It felt like she couldn't believe it but vaguely wished it were true.
She seemed to have moved from complete denial to a state of half-belief.
I shrugged and muttered nonchalantly.
In the very image of Kane, the young lord of Riverune.
"You think I couldn't do it? You should know that I, of all people, can overcome something like death."
"A lot of time has passed. Even if you came back alive, you can't fool age."
"There's such a thing as bodily reconstitution, isn't there? Getting younger isn't difficult."
Bodily reconstitution referred to the process of the body being restructured to be more suitable for combat.
It was a phenomenon only experienced by those who had reached the first tier and was almost unknown to the general public.
But the madam seemed to know what bodily reconstitution was.
I could tell from the way she flinched and blinked her eyes.
Deciding to accept it for now, she spoke in a dazed voice.
"I understand what you mean."
Of course, it didn't seem like she fully believed me.
However, I held a trump card that would surely captivate her.
This one move would probably be enough to fool her until I escaped this place.
"May I go in now?"
"Yes, please enjoy yourself. What kind of drink shall I prepare for you?"
Just as I expected, she naturally guided me to order.
Her eyes twinkled as if curious about what I would request.
"A bottle of Garros Quere and a Cabe Stick."
"Ah..."
The madam covered her mouth with her hand, looking at me with an expression of shock.
The train of suspicion in her mind must have finally cleared.
This order was proof, revealing the unique taste of Kane Riverune.
Generally, visitors to Salon Mascal tried to subtly show off their wealth.
They couldn't shake the habits they'd formed in Troven's high society even when they came here.
So, they would usually order the most expensive liquor.
But Garros Quere, while moderately priced, had few customers.
Its pungent and sharp aroma made it a divisive choice.
Furthermore, the Cabe Stick was a spicy nut snack.
It was a food quite far removed from the tastes of Troven.
The madam smiled softly and bowed her head slightly.
It seemed to be an apology for her suspicion until now.
"To make a Cabe Stick, I suppose I'll have to show off my skills for the first time in a while."
There were occasional customers other than me who ordered Garros Quere.
But people who wanted a Cabe Stick, a dish from her hometown, were extremely rare.
No, it was more like there was no one besides me.
It wasn't even on the menu, after all.
*Thud!*
"I'll pay in advance. The rest is a tip for making the Cabe Stick."
I placed a rather heavy pouch of gold coins on the counter and walked inside without hesitation.
This, too, was the exact same behavior as the me from nineteen years ago, Kane Riverune.
A cool attitude that suggested I wouldn't listen to any reply.
The madam was probably staring at my back with a dazed expression.
***
'Wow! My performance bonus from the last few years just vanished in an instant!'
Though I acted cool, the money I had just spent was by no means a small amount.
It was enough to empty out everything I had saved while working as a Class 2 assassin.
Of course, once I returned to the Eastern Branch, I would receive a bonus for the successful assassination of Brooks and the escort mission.
Still, the financial hit was significant.
'No, to think that I, the great connoisseur of Troven, am trembling over such a paltry sum. Ah, I miss the days of throwing gold coins around. Damn it.'
As I took a seat at a table, a waiter placed a bottle of Garros Quere before me.
I immediately poured a drink and leisurely savored its aroma.
This unique scent.
It had been nearly twenty years since I'd last smelled it, but it was still perfectly to my taste.
With a satisfied expression, I sipped the drink slowly.
Garros Quere was a strong liquor that clearly distinguished masters from novices.
The less experienced one was, the stronger their tendency to gulp it down hastily.
That was because it was high in alcohol content and had a potent aroma.
'Kuh! This is the taste.'
If you come to Salon Mascal, you should obviously drink the signature.
What are these people doing, chugging down expensive drinks without knowing a thing?
It's ruining the mood for a good drink.
As expected, I glanced around at the surrounding tables, where people had ordered the priciest items.
"It's been a while since I've met someone so peculiar."
Just then, someone plopped down on the sofa opposite me and struck up a conversation.
I was about to cast a displeased look at the rather rude action when my eyes widened in a flash.
Any feelings of discomfort melted away like snow.
'Ah, if you're beautiful, all is forgiven.'
It seemed the time to enjoy some dalliance had finally arrived.
I was in the middle of a mission, but who cared?
My role was just to shake up the encirclement, anyway.
'An owl mask...'
The masks used at Salon Mascal varied from person to person, but there was a certain format.
A black wire mesh had to cover the eyes so they couldn't be seen, and the ears also had to be concealed.
Only the mouth could be exposed for eating and drinking.
But having lived a long life as a man of leisure, I knew instinctively.
She was undoubtedly a beauty.
'This is a sure thing. My instincts prove it.'
Just from the glimpse of her fair skin and luscious lips, I could guess her beauty.
Though she was bundled up in a dress, her body also seemed to trace a beautiful curve.
The thrill of perfectly concealing one's identity and developing a relationship with the opposite sex through conversation alone.
That was the hallmark of Salon Mascal.
Hiding my excitement, I pretended to be dignified and responded to her words.
The noble ladies of Troven disliked men who were clownish, flippant, and frivolous.
But Miss Owl seemed to have little interest in my attitude.
"That's the first time I've ever seen the madam so surprised."
The madam of Salon Mascal was a prominent figure who led Troven's high society.
With a powerful backer in the central political scene, she was rarely flustered.
Miss Owl seemed to find the madam's reaction unfamiliar.
I gave her a light scan from head to toe and replied nonchalantly.
"She probably hasn't seen one in a long time. A man as dashing as this."
At my unabashed reply, Miss Owl let out a small smile.
She must have never imagined such an answer.
She tapped the bottle with her fingernail and threw a question in a passing tone.
"You seem young. It's surprising that you can already enter Mascal. Are you the son of a central noble?"
Any ordinary man would have probably revealed a weakness at this natural question.
But I was a veteran elite playboy who had been through thick and thin.
Putting aside whether such a thing even existed, I had no intention of easily giving away information.
'A little probe? I like it.'
I guessed that she wasn't much older than me either.
At most, three or four years.
In that case, she would know almost all the young people who frequented Salon Mascal.
As she said, there were few people our age here.
She probably assumed I was a newcomer who hadn't yet shown his face in high society.
I flashed a mischievous grin and adjusted my posture.
"If a beauty such as yourself asks, I suppose I have no choice but to tell you. I'll let you know, so please, come over here."
"Why?"
"Because it would be trouble if someone else heard, wouldn't it?"
"...Alright."
Miss Owl uncrossed her legs and moved over to my sofa.
She sat a slight distance away, as if on guard, but I naturally moved closer to her side.
Then, I brought my lips to her ear.
Close enough for our breath to touch.
"The truth is..."
As I paused for a moment, she leaned in closer, tilting her ear.
It was just as the sound of the indoor orchestra grew louder.
With a smile on my lips, I whispered in the most melodious voice I could manage.
"I am the young lord of the House of Riverune."