Chapter 17

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Translator: Vine
Chapter: [Number]
Chapter Title: The Art of Deception
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How much wealth was squandered on gifts for them, and how many young nobles fell to ruin because of it? It was impossible to count the number of noble ladies who clutched their chests and swallowed their tears because of these women who became concubines in their families.

Of course, there were first-class prostitutes who, with the full support of their madam, cultivated the refinement of a proper lady to engage with intellectuals on an emotional level—thus luring them to their establishments—but they were still the same women who spread their legs and flirted for men. No wonder someone had once jeered that this ranking system was the only measure used in the brothels to distinguish between a ‘stone’ and a ‘person.’

Therefore, whether the prostitute before me was first-class, second-class, or some higher rank, she deserved contempt for lifting her skirt for money.

Pérignole must have known this, which was likely why she was reluctant to speak with me. Waiting for Theodore Beatrice to introduce her was a shred of her pride, a self-preservation instinct.

The problem was, I was not a young lady steeped in aristocratic ideals like other girls.

The moment I realized Pérignole was a prostitute, I changed my attitude. I obediently sat where he led me and looked at her.

Theodore Beatrice seemed to have expected me to scream and run away like other young ladies, as his expression was one of slight disappointment. Above all, he appeared quite surprised that I wore a gentle smile, showing no sign of displeasure.

“How unexpected, my lady.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you are sitting here.”

“What did you expect me to do? Surely you didn't hope I would shriek and flee? My, you seem to have forgotten that you were the one who offered me a seat. How pitiful. I can only hope you sober up quickly. I truly mean that.”

Theodore’s expression hardened, as if he were slightly fed up, and he asked me.

“Is that all there is to it?”

Pérignole, too, watched my lips as if awaiting an answer. Her face was now alight with interest. I nearly laughed at the flicker of ‘curiosity’ and ‘wariness’ in her eyes, but I suppressed it.

Then, striving not to lose the aristocratic elegance and the stern authority it represented, I lifted my chin stiffly.

“It was a whim. So let us move on. I, for one, am curious about your intentions, my lord. What were you thinking, grabbing a lady’s hand like that? How rude! If you did not mean to shame me, you had best apologize at once.”

At that, Theodore Beatrice opened his mouth, a strange smile on his lips. His attitude was not just poor but utterly insincere, yet it wasn't entirely intolerable. This was because his voice was quite deep and resonant.

“Theodore Beatrice offers his sincerest apologies to you, my lady.”

“I shall graciously accept.”

I was trying my utmost to mimic the behavior of a thoughtless young lady. A foolish sixteen-year-old who, despite having heard of the infamy of prostitutes, was driven by the instinctive curiosity of a girl seeing one in the flesh, even setting aside her pride for a moment.

Thus, I committed myself to the role of a pert fool, one who had been a commoner until recently, now trying desperately to put on aristocratic airs—a girl so steeped in vanity she couldn't tell heaven from earth.

Not only was the heavily intoxicated Theodore Beatrice unable to reason clearly, but the more I focused on my role, the more likely it was that Pérignole would underestimate me.

As the situation unfolded, Pérignole had no choice but to greet me first. After all, there was no one here of a lower station than her.

And Theodore Beatrice, drunk out of his mind, was in no state to introduce us.

Pérignole bowed politely, with all the etiquette she could muster, and introduced herself.

“Greetings, my lady. I am called Pérignole.”

I answered in a curt voice, avoiding her gaze as much as possible.

“Why don’t you sit a little further away?”

Then I opened my fan, covering my face up to my nose. I deliberately furrowed my brow and lowered my eyes slightly. It was the perfect posture for a disdainful glance.

As if this sort of shabby treatment were nothing, Pérignole burst into a light laugh and shuffled back on her knees. Then, in a playful voice, she asked me.

“Would you rather I leave altogether?”

“Hmph. Don't be absurd. What would that make me to the young lord?”

When I snapped back in a prim voice, she looked as if she would die from laughter. Yes, I suppose it must seem amusing to her.

In her eyes, I must appear to be an audacious girl who, despite having just entered the world of nobility, is trying to act the part of a superior.

It must also seem ridiculous that I'm trying to preserve my pride after falling for such a trivial ploy, unable to shake off my commoner origins.

But her perked ears showed an attitude that wasn’t entirely disagreeable, so I had to let it pass. I could feel her guard dulling significantly, her gaze now like one watching a kitten.

In truth, I had been underestimating Pérignole. Though her face was caked with cosmetics, her pale skin, which still shone through, looked very young, and her eyes, clouded by passion, seemed devoid of any intelligence.

Therefore, I mistakenly believed that if a woman of noble birth, someone she wouldn't dare look at directly, casually offered a word, she would be so moved as to spill every last detail of her life.

Above all, I thought I could easily handle a prostitute of her level using the conversational skills and knowledge I had honed in high society.

After all, no matter how much she had tumbled through the back alleys dealing with all sorts of clients, could she truly compare to a noblewoman, a vixen who could bewitch a man with a mere flick of her tail?

So I assumed that if I just humored her a little, she would start spilling all sorts of things on her own.

But Pérignole was no ordinary prostitute. She was shrewder than a nest of vipers and more political than a veteran courtier.

Like a woman haggling over her price or teasing a man to desperation, she deftly avoided anything important, chattering on with trivialities while cautiously observing my reactions.

It was like a battle.

An unseen clash of spear and shield.

Consequently, I was growing perplexed as the conversation dragged on, proving far more tiresome and even duller than I had anticipated.

Although it was Pérignole who spoke ceaselessly, gauging my mood, her constant slipping away from the heart of the conversation like an eel made it all the more so.

And amidst this feast of frivolous chatter, she finally seized victory. Quick-witted as she was, Pérignole seemed to have discerned from just a few exchanges what it was I wanted to hear from her.

Seeing her look at me with a deep smile playing on her lips, I knew instinctively that I had lost.

The experience I had polished in high society and the conversational arts I had studied for years were no match for a prostitute who had wallowed in the filthy mire of the back alleys, where every day was a war. A battlefield built on etiquette, face, and pride could not compare to the real thing. That was the cause of my defeat.

I had tried my best to be sparing with my words, to hide my intentions and show no openings, yet Pérignole was moving in and out of my mind with utter ease.

I could only let out a strange, hollow laugh at this situation where the tables had been completely turned. The upper hand, which I could have seized first by leveraging my status, had long since passed to her.

But rather than anger, I felt a sense of satisfaction. A deep thrill even sent shivers down my spine.

Yes, this is it.

This is exactly what I want to learn from her.

I wanted to emulate Pérignole’s actions. I wanted to learn. I coveted her art of conversation, the ability to quickly grasp another’s heart with just a few words and turn the situation to her advantage. It was irresistible.

That vexing demeanor of hers—smiling with downcast eyes, yet somehow seeming to gently scrape at one's heart—was also something I had to master.

“…So, is there anything else you are curious about?”

I tore my gaze away from Pérignole’s lips, which were redder and more luscious than a rose. I smoothed the wrinkles in my dress, mocking myself for my arrogance in thinking I would win so easily.

The conversation, which I had expected to be somewhat lengthy, reached the sad conclusion of my defeat in less than thirty minutes. Drunk on victory, Pérignole’s eyes shone toward me as she beamed with a shameless smile.

“No, it wasn’t worth hearing. Just a waste of time.”

I disparaged her story in a scathing tone and rose from my seat. My brow was deeply furrowed, as if I had heard something I shouldn't have.

This was the pride of a noble lady, insisting that she had not lost to Pérignole—that she had not fallen for her words. So, like a cat that couldn't contain its temper and let out a hiss while baring its claws, I deliberately put on a sullen expression.

Pérignole seemed pleased by this, her eyes curving into deep crescents as she smiled warmly. To her, I, who stood up as if to leave at once, must have looked like a dog with its tail between its legs. Her eyes, sparkling like stars, were filled with delight.

She coaxed me gently, her voice lilting. She likely intended to milk her own enjoyment for all it was worth, knowing she wouldn't encounter such an amusing situation again, by taunting me with her smooth tongue.

“Oh my, you’re not staying? I have a mountain of fascinating stories left to tell.”

“I’ve had enough. Give my regards to Lord Beatrice for me.”

I snapped open my fan with a rather rough gesture and said in a prim voice. Theodore Beatrice seemed to be completely passed out, even snoring softly.

Pérignole, seemingly delighted by my attitude, burst into loud laughter. Then she twisted her body seductively and murmured in a low whisper.

“If you’re interested in the secret stories we couldn’t finish here, please come find me later. Pérignole is quite famous, you see. If you mention my name, anyone will bring you to me.”

“Hmph. That will never happen.”

“Oh, don’t be so sure.”

She winked. Her tongue, darting ceaselessly as if it were a severed snake’s, was almost bewitching.

“Who knows? I might just be the one to grant your wish.”

I almost let out a scoff at her words but barely managed to hold it in. What an audacious wench. Drunk on her small victory today, she was running wild, completely unaware of her place.

She knew what I wanted, yet she feigned ignorance, layering taunt upon taunt in a secretive tone. And she was only able to act this way because I was graciously tolerating her indulgence.

But I didn't find her attitude detestable, because she embodied the ideal I aspired to. That was why I could let Pérignole's words slide off me so easily.

Come find you? No, you will be the one coming to find me.

I deliberately made a ‘hmph’ sound and turned away from her. Then, with the hurried air of someone avoiding filth, I moved away from Pérignole’s side. As if our recent encounter had been the worst meeting in the life of Cisse Vischwartz.

Pérignole waved at me as if seeing off a guest, calling out her goodbyes. All eyes were turning toward us.

“Then please take care on your way out. It was a pleasure meeting you today.”

Despite her actions, I didn't burst into anger or show any irritation. Even though I had been defeated by a mere prostitute, my steps were incredibly light.

It was because I had seen a glimpse of the ideal I wished to become. And so, I was able to smile with genuine joy.