“The walls of the banquet hall must have ears, so we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Is everything ready?”
We volunteered to serve on the magic ship that will appear over Fitzsimmons tomorrow. It was to give a romantic experience to our lovely couple.
Just before the party, Brennen Stokes, who was kind but slightly lacking in some aspects, realized that he had only rented a magic ship. ‘No wonder it was so cheap!’ I imagined Brennan’s weeping figure as he proposed using old-school techniques without tongue-melting food, beautiful music, or exquisitely crafted candlesticks.
Luckily, Kyle could cook. There was an interesting story behind how he, a nobleman, can cook.
He’s excessively healthy right now, munching on rocks and all, but when he was young, Kyle was so sensitive that the foods he would eat were very limited, and if they weren’t cooked in a way he liked, he would get annoyed.
Count Villard and his wife were generous to their weak second son. But there was only one rule they strictly enforced. ‘Whining about food should not exist on the Villard’s dining table.’
One day, the Viscountess couldn’t bear to see Kyle sulking during mealtime anymore. After shouting this, she confined her son to the kitchen.
“If you don’t want to eat the food that someone else has carefully prepared for you, make it yourself!”
Perhaps the Countess intended to make Kyle realize the effort of the cooks and hoped he would learn to apologize humbly for his ungrateful behavior towards the servants.
Though Kyle’s nature was kind, he was stubborn and had no intention of meeting her expectations. Instead, he learned how to properly grill the meat on his plate, taking his mother’s advice to heart.
And so the Countess of Villard, sadly, came to realize that her second son was more gifted in cooking than in swordsmanship. ‘Ariel, I’ve become a master of rotisserie recipes,’ I can still remember how much I laughed reading that sentence in his letter.
Anyway, that’s how it was. Kyle could cook, and I could help him cook. Additionally, I could fill the magic ship with antique items that Elizabeth McCarthy loves. Of course, a merchant can’t give away freebies, so I put a reasonable price on everything and agreed to have a share in the profits from the Black Crystal Mine in return.
The contract was stamped by Brennan. He seemed touched by the sight of his friend taking a loss for the sake of friendship, investing in a possibility that wasn’t even certain—well, it was certain to me. Knowing the situation well, Kyle pretended to sneeze several times while calling me a “scum*” multiple times.
*(The original word is 양아치/Yang-Achi: it refers to someone, typically a criminal with poor conduct or character. Anyway, the original word really sounds like sneezing sound but I can’t find a fitting word in English.)
But that’s how business works. I put my hands on my waist and shrugged.
“Dalton’s Merchant Guild always handles work perfectly.”
***
Anais O’Brien knocked on the door exactly at the time specified on the invitation. She appeared with a pillow in her arms, wearing a fluttering lace nightgown.
“What’s that pillow for?”
She looked a little flustered at my question. But she quickly lifted her chin and said, ‘I heard that at all-night salons, they usually have a game where they hit each other with pillows.’ This made me realize that Anais O’Brien had no experience hanging out with girls her age.
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Isn’t there a bathroom here too?”
“That— I can only do certain things in a place where I feel safe. Maybe you’re the same?”
“Me? No, not really?”
“But you probably really need to go to the bathroom right now.”
Quick-witted Elizabeth McCarthy scratched her ear and said, then grabbed clueless Kelly Ramirez by the neck and pulled her away. I quickly grabbed my pillow as the two disappeared from the doorway. Bree did the same.
“I’m Anais O’Brien.”
“A-Anais O’Brien! I swear, no one in Fitzsimmons doesn’t know your name. Besides, I’m an Illestian! Now that I look at you, your hair is well-kept. Can I ask how you managed it? Oh, by the way, is it okay if I call you Anais?”
Brianna Mosley, who had been in a frenzy of excitement ever since I told her that the Duke of O’Brien’s ‘Rose’ was going to drop by our room, poured out her words frantically. Her ferocity made Anais O’Brien hesitate and back away for a moment. However, she must’ve felt it was unbecoming of an aristocrat, so she quickly and gracefully straightened her back and held up the tray she had brought with her.
“Go ahead. I’ll call you Brianna and Ariel too. This is the tea I enjoy drinking. It’s carefully portioned in silk pouches so we can savour the perfect aroma when we brew it all together.”
“Oh my god! You know my name?”
“Bree, calm down. I mentioned your name on the invitation.”
“Even without that, I knew you were Brianna Mosley because your father was one of the priests ordained by the duke.”
“Ah, my damned father, helping me in ways I didn’t expect.”
Anais seemed surprised by Briana’s sarcastic muttering, seemingly unaware of the bitter relationship between Bree and her father. The color drained from her face in an instant. ‘I’m sorry,’ Anais whispered. It was in a pitiful voice. The same voice she had when she was in that man’s arms the other day.
“You don’t have to apologize. I enjoy talking about that man. There aren’t a lot of people who don’t mind swearing at others.”
“She meant it, Anais. You can rest assured.”
“Still… .”
Anais squeezed her eyes shut and whispered.
“I always mess everything up. That’s why I’ve been told to avoid talking to other people as much as possible. But this is the first time I’ve been invited to such a place…”
“Wait, did you say ‘been told’? Which bastard said that to you?”
Brianna Mosley’s expression turned fierce as if she had been insulted. Kelly and Liz returned with their pillows, and they glanced at me, sensing the tense atmosphere. I put my index finger to my lips and shook my head.
“Everyone. It’s understandable. I’m foolish. Besides being timid, I don’t even have looks to boast about, not even blonde hair—”
“You’re not blonde?” Kelly interjected. “It’s dyed? But it looks like it goes all the way to your roots.”
“It’s originally brown. Jacqueline is skilled.”
According to the rules of the academy, admitting servants to Fitzsimmons was not allowed except under special circumstances, but some high-ranking nobles would turn a blind eye, either secretly or overtly, by admitting vassals of the same age as their children.
Jacqueline, daughter of Baron Faulkner, was Anais O’Brien’s roommate. Even if she didn’t bother talking about it, no one doubted that she was the lady-in-waiting assigned to Anais, who was the Duke’s daughter. The reason was that Faulkner excessively fawned over Anais, making everything clear.
It was a stark contrast to how she talked about herself. Kelly rolled her eyes.
“Blonde suits you so perfectly that I didn’t realize. By this point, your roots must naturally grow blonde, right? If they weren’t oblivious, that is.”
“Kelly, roots are as oblivious as you are. Besides, Anais would look fantastic with any hair color.”
“That’s true.”
Kelly Ramirez threw her hands up in the air in response to Brianna’s comeback. It was a gesture of surrender, and this time it was Liz who spoke up.
“I’ve never felt like you’re messing anything up, so why do you feel that way?”
“If you haven’t noticed the problems with me, it’s because you haven’t talked to me for a long time. I chose not to talk as much as possible so as not to look pathetic to anyone.”
“But even now, I still don’t get it. And even if you thought you were, why shouldn’t you show that side? Because the Duke of O’Brien is one of the noblest families of Illestia? There are plenty of aristocrats and royals at Fitzsimons, and they’re not all impressive.”
“But my parents—”
“What do they know, they’re not here.”
The words of Elizabeth McCarthy, who had dumped her arranged fiancé and embezzled her tuition money to avoid her parents’ claws, had an unmistakable persuasiveness.
“I know what you’ve been through because I’ve been through something similar. Back in Illestia, my mother would gossip all day about how stupid, fat, and ill-tempered I was. She would even call me ‘Rat’s Nest’.”
Bree ruffled her curly hair to make it look a little more frizzy.
“I’m not mean nor stupid, and I might be a little fat, but that doesn’t kill any of my good qualities, so I could have ignored what she said, but I didn’t, and I ended up hating myself for it.”
“… … .”
“Choosing to attend Fitzsimmons was the best choice I ever made in my ill-fated life. Because I only realized when I got here that I was the one who was turning myself into a ‘rat’s nest,’ and from the looks of it, you’re the same way, thinking you’re stupid without actually being stupid.”
“Even if I got a D+ in theology class?”
“U-Uh, well, that’s a bit… .”
For an Illestian student, receiving a grade below an A in theology was almost impossible. Brianna reflexively furrowed her brow but quickly added,
“My point is, just because you’re not smart doesn’t mean you have to hate yourself.”
“That’s right. Norman Casey lived until he was seventeen, thinking that ‘hope for the future’ was ‘hope for the funeral’, but he loved himself more than anyone. He even impersonated himself during joke month; ‘Norman Casey who became the Mage Tower Lord’, ‘Norman Casey who conquered the continent with Griffon Cricket’…”
While Kelly never got tired of slandering her ex, Brianna calmed down after her initial excitement. Rather than being disappointed with Anais, she seemed to realize that the illusions that many people, including her, had of her were holding her captive.
“Anyway, the reason you describe yourself as ‘someone who ruins everything’ and ‘timid’ is just you creating reasons to hate yourself. Just look at all the gifts piled up on the second floor of the dormitory, and you’ll see how many fans you have. So how can you hate yourself?”
“But they only love me for how I look. They’ll be mad when they find out what I’m like—”
“I like you even more after getting to know the real Anais O’Brien.”
Liz and Kelly echoed my sentence that decisively cut-off O’Brien’s.
“Me too.”
“I agree.”
Eventually, we spent the next few minutes confining Anais O’Brian in a prison of praise, reminding her of her various strengths. When the last page of the Continental Common Language Dictionary finally turned over in my head and we finally ran out of compliments, the five of us sitting around the bags of snacks burst into laughter simultaneously.
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