Chapter 27

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Princess Only Deals in the Real Thing 34

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The Princess Only Deals in the Real Thing

Chapter 34

4. The Greeting is Intense

"The Tahitan sapphire you consigned sold for 2.4 million gold. Here's your payment, Madam Helena."

"...Thanks."

Even hearing she'd made a fortune, Helena's expression remained grim.

The streetscape visible behind her was the same.

Ashen Street was dead silent, like a ghost town. No shops had opened their doors, and not a soul stirred.

"Ever since yesterday's general assembly, the mood's been awful. Everyone's gathered at the guild hall with these defeated looks—like they've lost their livelihoods overnight."

"Are there that many without guarantors?"

"From what we've tallied, about twenty."

The Merchant Guild had just over a hundred members.

That meant a full twenty percent were on the brink of shuttering their doors.

"We were all fired up, even planning a festival, and then this happens. Can't blame the rest for feeling down."

Helena let out a heavy sigh.

"I reached out to some nobles I know on the down-low, asking if they'd help..."

"And they turned you down."

"Yeah. They don't want to be associated with our bad reputation. Even though they've been snapping up our goods on the sly."

Helena clicked her tongue in disgust.

"They ignored us when we begged for help with security, but now that we've cleaned things up and are trying to make a go of it, they throw salt in the wound. It pisses me off."

From what Grandpa had told me, Helena had petitioned the palace multiple times to maintain order.

But every request was stonewalled. Short-staffed, they said—handle it yourselves.

Which was why Ashen Street's security was still managed by the guild hall instead of knights or guards.

'They'd catch criminals, hold them until the knights deigned to patrol, then hand them over like it was charity.'

Helena's face clouded over, but then she looked at me and forced a brighter tone.

"Sorry, I'm rambling on about all this nonsense. Being here just loosens my tongue."

"No, it's fine."

"At least you're in luck, Elisha. Even if Mr. Michele's away traveling, he could swing by and act as your guarantor."

I couldn't respond, so I just nodded.

"You looked so worn out, like you hadn't slept a wink—I figured you were worried. Anyway, I'll get going."

Helena really had a knack for reading people.

I hadn't slept a wink after my trip to the Raum estate last night.

Even with her own troubles weighing on her, Helena was looking out for me. I grabbed her hand impulsively.

"It'll work out. Don't worry too much, Madam Helena."

These weren't empty words.

I spoke clearly, with conviction.

Helena gazed at me steadily, then gave a faint smile.

"...Yeah. Here's hoping for a miracle."

After she left,

I retrieved a plate from the safe.

Staring down at the plate painted by Nicholas, I murmured to myself.

"Not a miracle. The results of effort."

Helena's efforts.

My efforts.

And Nicholas's efforts.

Last night's conversation with him came back to me.

"M-Mr. Duke Michele sent you...? Does that mean you're his granddaughter?"

"Yes. You've never met Grandpa in person, right? I know it's hard to believe, but look at my eyes. The color of the Lionets."

As I said that, I slid some documents across to Nicholas.

They detailed my inheritance from Grandpa.

While he read them, I reviewed what I knew about him.

'Nicholas Raum. A commoner painter who caught Rozanne Viscountess's eye and became her consort. She's the type who prefers pulling strings from the shadows, and he's the perfect card for her to wield.'

Rozanne had never loved him.

It was a smokescreen marriage—just to exploit him as a copyist painter and to show off how much she "loved" art by wedding an obscure artist.

Of course, loveless marriages can change hearts over time. But Rozanne's never did.

I knew that better than anyone.

Because...

'In my past life, Rozanne killed Nicholas.'

Half a year after she basically kidnapped Grandpa.

Nicholas gets cast out, framed for an affair and fathering a bastard.

The day he tries to clear his name with an interview at a small gossip rag...

Conveniently, he dies in an accident.

Of all days.

'The culprit fled, no witnesses. Investigation fizzled out, and the once-viscount was buried without fanfare.'

The Nicholas before me was doomed to die soon.

If I hadn't intervened.

"Ah, I see. But... why would the duke summon me...?"

I looked into his soft, tear-streaked eyes.

Nicholas probably sensed it too.

Staying by Rozanne's side meant only a grim end awaited.

So.

'I'll change it for you. That ending.'

"He holds your talent in high regard. He wants to invest."

"...Invest in me...?"

"Yes. Not in your copies, but your real paintings."

I flashed a bright smile at his stunned, wide-eyed expression.

"The terms are simple. Want to hear them?"

Tension tightened his delicate jaw.

He nodded firmly.

"Yes. Tell me anything."

As I finished talking and turned to leave,

Nicholas held out a plate painted with a waterfall.

"Would you take this?"

"Oh, can I?"

"Yes. Everyone thinks the artist owns the work... but I disagree. The true owner is the first person to recognize its value. So please, become the owner of this painting. Use it however you like."

I carefully repackaged the plate I'd brought back and stowed it in the safe. Then I eyed the thick stacks of bills piling up.

It was about time to start investing anyway.

I'd decided on Nicholas.

'Not just pity. A smart business move.'

His paintings were genuinely brilliant.

A painter who married a duke's daughter but met ruin over scandal.

That buzz even got a brief mention of his death in the duchy papers.

I'd seen a few of his works there.

Before Rozanne used him up, his paintings brimmed with beauty and life.

People clamored to buy them once they surfaced posthumously.

'Rozanne must've kept grinding down his confidence so he wouldn't get ideas. "Who else would value you but me?" But it was only a matter of time. He would've shone eventually.'

Lucky me, I had an eye for art.

I'd spotted that Rozanne's hidden copyist—the one supposedly quit painting after marriage—was Nicholas.

'Her copyist racket's in for a major hit.'

I'd already planned to keep her from touching him.

Now, just wait.

Glancing at the calendar's night auction date, I fiddled with the mana orb.

Defective, but bumpy enough to use as a stress ball to stay awake.

'Speaking of, to hide Rina's pendant, I need another holy artifact...'

That thug knight would be back, tool in hand.

But the tracker didn't pinpoint pendants specifically.

So I'd shove another artifact their way and play dumb.

The problem?

No other artifacts.

'You can't just buy a holy artifact because you want one.'

Money wasn't the issue.

Too pricey? Buy high, sell high—no profit, but whatever.

But if nothing's for sale?

'Should I dig up land around the World Tree Temple?'

As I pondered, it hit me.

The only other holy artifact I'd handled besides the pendant.

The Golden Music Box.

But my face soured instantly.

'Buying from that thief? That's fencing stolen goods. No way.'

Try renting from the World Tree Temple?

They rarely allowed it, but it happened.

I mulled it over.

'Am I hallucinating?'

"Hello!"

Must be exhaustion from lack of sleep.

Had to be.

Otherwise, this was a dream...

"I came to keep my promise. You remember my name, right?"

The guy I'd just been thinking of popped up right in front of me.

Why was this thief waltzing in so boldly? And I never made any promise with you.

Without a second thought, I hurled the binding orb I'd been rolling in my hand.

'Wait—it's defective!'

Realized too late, but oh well.

Might as well take the hit like a man! Payback for the spray incident!

...

Or so I thought.

"Er, um."

Spiderweb-like threads burst from the orb as it hit the thief.

"Your welcome is, well..."

Trussed up and flat on his back, the thief grinned broadly.

"Pretty intense..."