Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: The Eve Banquet (2)
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The next day, early evening.
I suited up and headed to the Northern Imperial Palace.
'A place I've visited a few times even in my past life.'
The only imperial building in the northern region.
It had been constructed in the past when Princess Irina ruled the north.
Though a bit worn, its grandeur—towering toward the skies like a testament to past glory—was truly impressive.
'These stairs never get any easier, no matter how many regressions.'
Back when I served as Imperial Prime Minister.
I must have sighed every time I climbed them.
'Of course, with my current body, it's just a light stroll. But for ladies, it'd be tough.'
All the way up, I spotted women in dresses.
Their party attire was quite revealing, so men were clinging close, escorting them.
Soon, those men's jackets were tied around the women's waists, covering their figures.
As if staking a claim to enjoy their beauty all to themselves someday.
Of course, I didn't even have a woman to do that for me.
"Careful, milady. That's someone from the Minster family."
"Oh my."
A few men were using my infamous reputation to play the protector, showing off their reliability.
Even from a distance, they pulled the women close for some skinship.
Men turn cunning around women, they say. Maybe the real snakes aren't me, but them.
"……."
But the humiliations I was about to face were only just beginning.
As I entered the palace entrance, the thick social atmosphere wafting around was suffocating.
For someone like me, who'd focused solely on preventing the world's end, it was terribly uncomfortable.
"Long time no see, milady."
"A knight, I see. I hope you achieve great results in this tournament."
Everyone except me was paired up, engaging in small talk.
There were a few singles here and there, but they soon found a match and started chatting.
"Good times, good times."
I chuckled like some old prime minister, watching proudly.
"……."
Of course, there were those stealing glances at me too.
The Imperial Knights, eyeing me warily.
They were watching closely—probably because my name was on some watchlist.
Makes sense. Our already notorious family had absorbed mafia forces, after all.
No matter how flashy the Wolf Boys were—and they only appealed to certain ladies—the noblemen saw us as threats.
With those thoughts, I entered the banquet hall.
Imperial Knights stood at the entrance, holding guest lists and guiding attendees.
"Derek Minster. Competitor in tomorrow's matches."
The knights, who had been brightly greeting other competitors, darkened instantly.
Like they'd finally encountered the villain they'd been waiting for.
"Ah, from the Minster family."
"I heard you've been busy with business lately. Didn't expect you'd join the tournament."
I brushed it off with a casual laugh, saying it just happened that way.
But the knights persisted with a few pointed remarks.
"If a corporate head shines in the matches, it'll boost your security business. Quite passionate."
"But don't take this tournament lightly. For some, it's a sacred contest with their lives on the line."
Their eyes said it all.
Stick to money games with the mafia—don't sully our sacred duels.
"To think even noble Imperial Knights know of me. It makes the Minster Group's fame soar. I'm proud."
I countered boldly.
"Could you guide me to my seat now? These stairs have my legs aching."
I harbored no ill will toward them, so I let it slide.
Then, one knight called out indifferently to a servant.
"Waiter!!"
He bellowed it loudly, as if for all to hear.
Advertising that I, alone, was being guided by a servant, not a knight.
"This way, sir."
A waiter led me to a corner seat.
My nameplate lay on a tablecloth with faint stains.
Derek Minster.
Anyone could see it was deliberate.
But I welcomed the petty snub.
Thanks to these idiots, I could scout competitors discreetly.
'The grapes are sweet.'
I munched grapes contentedly, enjoying the atmosphere.
Pitying my solitude, a waiter slipped me a bottle of whiskey.
I savored the free booze, ears tuned to the chatter.
"By the way, I hear Her Highness the Princess might attend tonight?"
"Really? I thought she hated parties like this."
"Yeah. Can't even imagine her in a dress."
"Me neither. Word is, she has zero interest in fashion."
Mid-sip from my glass, I felt eyes from afar.
I turned, but the second-floor corridor was empty.
Felt like meticulous spying—hiding the moment I looked.
High chance it was a match opponent or someone with a grudge against my family.
'Guess I need to stay cautious.'
Given my notoriety, some would seek to boost their fame by taking me down.
So, best to keep quiet and avoid trouble.
"Sharp eyes, indeed."
A mutter echoed in the empty second-floor corridor.
"Indeed."
Another voice replied promptly.
"It's been ages since someone sensed us even with this artifact."
The invisibility faded, revealing an elderly white-haired man.
Imperial Prime Minister Aintz.
"Truly worth His Highness the Prince's attention."
On his ring finger gleamed a ring that turned the wearer and one companion invisible.
"As I said, he's no ordinary fellow."
The silver-haired prince in pristine white formalwear replied leisurely, wine glass in hand.
"But sharp eyes alone don't tell me much."
Aintz adjusted his monocle, tilting his head.
His gaze fixed on the snake-like man munching grapes alone.
"Not even a Swordmaster, yet the Princess keeps him as her top retainer. A concubine, perhaps...?"
The prime minister wondered when her tastes had turned to decadent men.
Prince Ivan responded confidently.
"Even low realms can excel in experience and strategy."
"So you're saying he's a master of both pen and sword?"
"His brains are sharp, for sure. His exact power? We'll see tomorrow."
The silver-haired prince focused, channeling mana like the warden's.
His green eyes sharpened keenly.
"Looks like he's injured, though."
"Pardon? You can see that far?"
The prime minister's jaw dropped at the prince's insight.
"Faint cracks in his mana. Usually from injuries hindering cohesion."
"All I see is robust blue aura."
"That's how well he's hiding it. Concealing one's realm takes immense effort."
"As expected of Your Highness. You've inherited the keen sight of past emperors."
The prime minister gazed at the prince's greedy eyes like fine art.
"Tell me, Aintz. How many test competitors have arrived?"
"Around twenty so far."
The prince nodded quietly.
Then posed a loaded question.
"If a top contender arrived injured, how would you play it?"
"……."
The prime minister paused.
Then countered slyly.
"As a loyal servant, or my personal take?"
"The latter, obviously. I know you—anything for promotion."
The prince matched his wolfish gaze.
"Then I'd leak it to the other contenders."
"I'd do the same. No need to dirty our hands."
Prince Ivan savored his wine, pleased.
"The Minster family plays the villain here. A trial for our righteous knights."
He patted the prime minister's shoulder lightly.
Then left the corridor, trusting him to handle it.
"Tipping villains' weaknesses to foes? Fine for royalty, no?"
"Of course, Your Highness."
"If Derek drops out and loses his warden post, you know what to do?"
"I'll arrange his transfer to Your Highness's palace."
After the prince departed.
Aintz signaled knights mingling with ladies.
They snapped to attention, receiving the intel.
Competitor Derek Minster was injured.
The prime minister's aides spread it among knight groups.
Some hot-blooded ones thrilled at the news.
Challenging him before pretty ladies? They'd shine too.
Perfect event to liven the splendid eve banquet.
"Perfect. My body's itching."
"Hey, go easy. Don't want a cripple in the main matches."
Three men rose from their seats.
They approached my table openly.
Like righteous heroes punishing evil.
"……?"
As I sipped whiskey alone, three burly men joined me.
But not to befriend.
Challenge in their eyes, plain as day.
Yet as nobles, they opened politely.
"Pleased to meet you, Young Master Minster. We're knights in your bracket."
Slick face, brown hair slicked back.
Some ladies swooned over him, honey in their eyes.
"Imperial Knights Order, I see. That lion badge on your chest is dashing."
"You're head of an agency yourself. No need for false modesty."
"Grateful for the kind words. Shall we shake?"
"Sure. Name's Alban. They call me 'Swiftblade' in the Order."
Mid-level Sword Expert. Has the Imperial Knights fallen this low?'
His palm had barely any calluses.
His sheathed sword showed no wear.
Classic rote-trained type.
Likely deficient in real experience.
I'd been miffed at the empty seat; now they deliver intel gratis.
How grateful.
"Heard you're head of a security firm, Young Master Derek."
"Just a hole-in-the-wall."
I waved it off humbly; the two knights jabbed sharply.
"Come on, you're already third in the capital's industry."
"Must be formidable yourself to lead it."
Look at these guys.
Building up to something.
"So, mind a lesson?"
Sudden challenge.
One would've been fine, but it felt off.
And soon, not coincidence.
"I want in too."
"After them, spar with me."
These bastards openly gunning for me.
As if they knew my strength beforehand.
"……."
I stayed silent, sipping whiskey, gauging intent.
'Someone spotted my injury.'
Thought it healed enough to fool all.
Probably the lurker from the second-floor corridor.
"Fine by me."
Well, might as well play along.
Crush the first; the rest'll cower.
I rose.
As we headed to the palace rear.
The smug knights flinched in unison.
"Sorry, but sparring's postponed."
The warden everyone shunned and ignored...
The empire's loftiest lady approached him.
"Today, I'm sitting with him."
The entire hall gaped.
The empire's top spearwoman, thought devoted solely to martial arts...
Appeared in a stunning dress she'd never worn before.
"Everyone looks shocked. Did I crash somewhere I shouldn't?"
"N-no, Your Highness the Princess."
The leisurely knights bowed hastily.
But Camillia ignored them all.
"Derek Minster. Why are you alone in this corner?"
The princess gazed at me cutely, like a dragon plush in bed's corner.
"No choice. Guess I'll join you."
She sat naturally.
Giving me excuse to reseat.
"Save your strength now. Your mana’s a mess."
The princess whispered, spotting my injury instantly.
Thought it showed little; can't fool a master Swordmaster's eyes.
I nodded quietly; she smiled sisterly, merciful.
Glancing at the knights here to fight me.
"Didn't you hear me?"
She eyed the mongrels invading her turf chillingly.
"If you crave a spar that badly, I could oblige."
The knights instinctively felt the overwhelming gap.
They bowed, apologizing for intruding.
"N-no, Your Highness. How could we mar your beauty?"
"No matter. Not a hair out of place from you lot."
Her deep, abyssal blue eyes pierced him.
Alban dropped his bravado, retreating hastily.
Soon, only Camillia and I remained.
"Thanks to you, I survived, Your Highness."
I thanked her with a bright smile.
But her face stayed impassive.
"...When did you get hurt?"
"Not long ago. Nothing serious."
I waved awkwardly.
That moment.
"……."
Her hand gently grasped my arm.
"Don't be so reckless with your body from now on."
With the haughty gaze of an empress owning all she desires.
"Can't have my first retainer getting banged up already."
"Understood."
I replied politely.
Then praised her changed look.
"Never dreamed you'd attend a party."
"I'm human too. This vibe? Not bad."
Really?
In the game, she loathed parties.
Even dressed in uniforms due to zero fashion sense.
This loop felt subtly different.
"Suits you. Totally different vibe."
"It's what I wear often. Don't mind."
Camillia shrugged, sipping whiskey.
Then furtively adjusted her awkward strap.