Chapter 20

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Lady Only Deals in the Real Thing 28

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공녀님은 진짜만 취급합니다

28화

Alter's brows furrowed.

"I wonder if you actually heard what I said."

"Yes. I heard you loud and clear—no negotiations, and it's not a proposal that puts me at a loss."

"Then why refuse?"

"Because your premise doesn't hold up. There's something wrong in what you said. Hiring you would be a loss for me."

He let out a hollow laugh, as if he found it ridiculous.

"Do you even know how much I'm worth? You're offering to settle it with a mere commission fee and even throw in a consultant contract—how is that a loss?"

I knew he'd say that.

I placed a hand over my heart in a dramatic gesture.

"That's exactly why it's a loss. It doesn't sit right with me, trying to command someone as 'priceless' as you for pocket change. You know a debt of the heart is the hardest kind to repay, right?"

Before Alter could interrupt, I added,

"Plus, a commission is a one-time payment, but consultant fees are ongoing expenses. The longer it goes, the bigger my loss."

"Consultant fees..."

"No way someone who claims such a high price tag would work for free. Store policy requires paying them, and if you undervalue yourself, it makes you seem like you've got some ulterior motive."

Like someone dying to know what's on the second floor.

Prodding at Alter, who was caught by his own words, I flashed a bright smile.

"Oh, right. You said you weren't here to see me, but you keep making me think otherwise."

I could visibly see the fight drain from Alter's eyes as he prepared to retort.

Playing the sweet flower girl on the outside, my mind was racing.

Alter had clearly come prepared today to lock in that consultant contract.

So my approach was set.

'A man like that won't give up on his goal easily. But if I reject him once like this...?'

I could get him to the negotiating table.

Another one of Grandpa's lessons.

But Alter swept back his hair and gave a surprisingly curt response.

"In any case, if you're consulting me on weapons, consultant fees are a legitimate expense. Calling it a loss doesn't fit the situation. Don't you agree? So all I need is the standard commission."

"You're right."

I conceded readily, and one of Alter's eyebrows arched.

It was a fair point.

'It's money going out, sure, but not synonymous with a loss.'

Spending one gold on candy isn't a loss, is it?

Still, it was a bit surprising that Alter had pinpointed the twist in my words so accurately.

"But the debt of the heart still isn't settled... and there's something else that's worrying me."

"What? Worried I'll get hurt again?"

"Of course that's a concern too. But I still don't know your skills."

"My skills?"

Alter's expression twisted subtly.

"You're not running a weapon shop, nor are you a blacksmith or a magitech engineer. Self-proclaimed skill doesn't count for much."

Just like when Helena doubted me.

"So, how about this? Do a few jobs on a trial basis first. If the results are good, we sign a formal contract. Sound fair?"

Of course, even if they're good, I'll say they're not.

'This is why you don't make verbal agreements lightly.'

Who could've guessed he'd trade 200,000 gold for a job referral?

Grumbling inwardly, I watched Alter chuckle at me.

Not the hollow laugh of disbelief or mocking sneer—his real smile flashed by in an instant.

Why's he laughing? As I wondered, Alter spoke up.

"You said no negotiations, but here you are laying down terms. Well... no harm in it. Fine."

As if sensing my confusion, he leaned in to meet my eyes.

"I'm confident. You'll like it."

His extremely low voice resonated in my ear.

'You mean yourself? Or the results?' Instead of blurting nonsense, I mulled over his words.

With that much confidence, his skills must be decent at least.

'Well, I'll see for myself.'

Alter seemed to belatedly realize his words could be taken two ways and pulled back abruptly.

"...I mean my skills, of course."

Suppressing a laugh, I replied,

"Got it. I'll contact you if there's a job. Then, if that's all..."

"Wait. I have a question."

"A question? What is it?"

Probably about that weapon or the pawnshop's second floor again—I asked casually.

"Your name."

"My name?"

"What's your name?"

That was hands-down the most out-of-left-field and amusing question I'd heard all year.

I deliberately propped my chin on my hand and tilted my head—the most affected pose I knew.

"I thought you knew."

"Why would I? We've never been properly introduced."

"Because you're with the Intelligence Guild. I figured you'd know something like my name."

"..."

"Don't tell me you want to hear it straight from me? That's subtly romantic."

I grinned, and Alter narrowed his eyes.

'Ooh, look at that face. Gotta tease him just right.'

They say you can't even spit on a smiling face, but with that stony expression?

He could probably spit at me all day.

I cleared my throat and straightened up.

"Elisha. It's Elisha."

Alter nodded curtly and turned away.

What, he won't share his name? Is this his way of handing out a business card?

Watching his retreating back, it suddenly hit me.

What was different about him today, that subtle change.

"The white shirt suits you!"

Alter, who wasn't wearing his usual black shirt but a white one, turned back.

He stared at my waving hand for quite a while before turning away again.

The imperial palace of the Pressripe Empire.

The attendants shivered in the strangely chill air.

Or perhaps it was because an excessively ornate carriage had pulled up before the palace.

"Welcome, Your Highness the Regent King."

The attendant opened the carriage door and bowed hastily.

The arrogant-faced marquis addressed as Regent King paused as he was about to descend, spotting the carpet. There was a speck of dust.

"Prostrate yourself."

"P-Pardon?"

"I said prostrate."

The attendant bit his lip and threw himself face-down before the carriage.

The marquis stepped down on his back as if it were the most natural thing.

Then he rubbed the sole of his shoe on the attendant's head. Like a doormat.

"You have ears but don't listen, and you question me—what makes you different from a mat or carpet? Isn't that right?"

Amid the collective shock, the marquis alone remained aloof.

He was the regent governing in place of the emperor, who was on a pilgrimage to holy sites to heal his ailments.

In other words, no one in the empire outranked him now.

If asked how a mere marquis—not even a duke—had become regent, there was only one answer.

'My sister. Only in death are you useful to me.'

Crodil Marquis was the older brother of the recently deceased empress.

It was an unprecedented appointment based solely on blood ties, with no other explanation.

Smirking inwardly, he beckoned the Minister of the Interior with a finger.

He had no interest in—or need for—the policy scrolls the following minister carried.

"Today, I enjoyed a rare tea time with old friends. But... one viscountess shared some most distressing news."

"What news might that be?"

"Illegal shops are rampant. Unqualified people forging permits and selling unverified goods."

Recalling Rozanne Viscountess from the tea, Crodil's lips curved slyly.

She helped nobles launder money through forgeries—a most useful asset.

"Your Highness the Regent King. There's one thing I'd like to eliminate in a very 'legal' manner."

"A good? A person?"

"Precisely, a place, Your Highness. You have to clear the burrow to catch the rabbits."

So granting a small favor wasn't difficult.

"It occurred to me—the permit format hasn't been revised once since it was established centuries ago. So what should we do?"

"...Are you saying to implement a new permit format?"

There was a reason it had never changed: the existing one was efficient and problem-free.

But Crodil feigned ignorance and continued.

"Yes. Add one condition."

"What condition?"

"A guarantor. Issue permits only to those with one."

Crodil turned.

"That way, even if the forgers flee, there's someone left to drag in and hang, right?"

Stroking the flinching old minister's chin like one might soothe a dog, he grinned wickedly.

Rozanne's added words came to mind.

"So it comes down to people after all? I'm curious who dared offend you."

"Haha, is that so? You'll see soon enough. The face of that rabbit kneeling before me."

"We can't let just anyone be a guarantor. Set qualifications: blood family willing to share liability, or..."

"...Urgh..."

"A noble, whose very existence proves it. One or the other."

Imagining the face soon to be in Rozanne's grasp, Crodil muttered indifferently.

"Have the Imperial Holy Knight Order handle enforcement. They're idle anyway, aren't they?"

"..."

"They need results, so start with... yes, that place. The filthy, dangerous underbelly of the capital—Ashen Street."

Crodil patted the old minister's wrinkled cheek and turned sharply.

"Where's Catarina?"

The attendant who heard the princess's name swallowed hard.