Chapter 87

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 87

Chapter Title: Sharon's Secret Club

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No sooner had the meal ended than I dashed outside and gently stroked the Elza tree. The coarse, curly bark rasped against my palm, and the distinctive bitter citrus scent unique to Elza trees wafted into my nostrils.

Just then, the steward, who had come to attend the castle, spotted the piled-up Elza trees and approached me.

"What is all this?"

"It's mine."

"All of it? Then how many teleportation arrays did you..."

Even the steward was floored, and I nodded in satisfaction.

"Once we've secured enough teleportation arrays and start selling them, we'll get even richer."

"And what will you do with even more riches here?"

"Pay our taxes, obviously. Get ten stacks of paperwork ready—no skimping even a single franc. Pay up in full."

I let out a sly heh heh heh, and the steward chuckled softly.

"That's not the mindset of a true tycoon."

Did he understand the splitting headaches Ceria and I got every tax season?

He shrugged at my glare.

"We'll strip just the bark, then."

"Yeah. Leave the leaves on. So people don't get suspicious."

"Understood. Oh, and it seems His Grace is preparing to depart for the capital soon."

The territory's affairs had mostly been wrapped up weeks ago. Mireyu's arrival was what delayed things.

"Yeah. Probably in three or four days."

"Communication stone?"

"Always on me."

"Good."

I nodded, fingering the Etwal with one corner now filled.

Now it was finally time to step out into the world for real.

We departed for the capital three days later, right on schedule.

The carriage that had previously carried only me, Henri, Ishak, and Father now also held Yohan and Aunt Javeline.

Yohan would stay with us until the end of his academy break. He'd always spent breaks in the capital anyway, so it was nothing special.

The estate's staff, now familiar faces, welcomed us upon arrival.

Once the luggage was unpacked, our family gathered for tea to discuss what lay ahead.

Aunt turned to Father.

"Leblain needs to make her society debut soon, so we should find her a patroness."

A patroness was the elder who gathered and guided young ladies through high society.

Who she was mattered immensely—it determined which faction you'd align with in society.

Not everyone liked factions, of course. But in the capital's cutthroat high society, staying unaffiliated made survival nearly impossible.

The family debated suitable patronesses for me.

"I've heard Madame Georges is quite wise. The ladies under her are all poised and intelligent, too."

Henri, who knew the capital's players inside out, chimed in.

"Madame Georges may be wise, but her husband isn't. He's blinded by ambition. If he learns my wife is sponsoring Leblain, he'll get ideas."

"Her nephew's debuting this season, too. She dotes on her bloodline—he might use Leblain as a foil for him."

"What about Madame Dimonte?"

"Madame Dimonte's not a bad choice."

More names of society matriarchs followed. Aunt and Henri asked Father which might be best.

"Anyone who won't make Leblain wear high heels."

Some started training girls in heels from a very young age for that elegant gait.

Aunt sipped her tea at the mention. "Of course."

Everyone was racking their brains to pick my patroness, but I already had someone in mind—the perfect person to kick off my capital life with flair.

Aunt had taken charge of introducing me to society and helping me adjust.

She gave me a once-over.

"First things first... we need to go shopping."

"Shopping?"

"The only thing that keeps the capital's hyenas at bay isn't a torch—it's the scent of money. Leave your wardrobe to Sharon."

Sharon?

The name hit me like a spark. I quickly asked Aunt,

"Could I meet her in person?"

"Hmm..."

She pondered briefly, then nodded.

"An introduction wouldn't hurt."

I cheered inwardly. The person I wanted as my patroness had deep ties to Sharon.

Out in the shopping district with Aunt, my cheeks burned from the stares pouring in.

"Heavens, is that Lady Javeline...?"

The whispers had started the moment we stepped from the carriage.

Ladies clutching books, young florists—everyone stole glances at her.

And who could blame them? The words to describe Aunt were endless.

Beauty so stunning people whipped their heads around three times and risked whiplash.

The knight who led the White Horse Knights during their heyday—a force still beloved by the empire.

Diamond pedigree from the capital's genius academy straight to the scholarly institute.

Fashion sense so sharp that anything she wore became the trend.

Above all, that sharp yet elegant aura that made you want to call her big sister—or madam.

How did I know all this? Even at the temple, people treasured portraits of Lady Javeline. Mina was one of them.

Those influenced by Mina started calling her Jajyu-nim and earned Aunt's disgusted side-eye.

I spotted a woman rushing toward us from afar.

"Well, if it isn't Javeline Ariège! My muse!"

Her hair was cut bluntly at chin-length—Sharon, the capital's premier designer.

Even Melbein, popular with countesses and selling exorbitant dresses, couldn't touch her fame.

"What brings this on? You never come no matter how much I beg. I thought thorns were sprouting in my eyes. At least let me kiss your hand."

She puckered up with a muah, but Aunt blocked her face with a palm.

"I'm here to buy clothes for this child."

"I don't design children's clothes. And who's this little squirrel?"

"My niece."

"Niece?!"

Sharon leaned in abruptly.

I flinched back.

"You're that Child of Destiny?"

"...Yeah."

She'd dropped formal speech first, so I matched her. Her eyes went wide, then she burst into laughter.

"Ah ha! Ha ha ha ha!"

After a good hearty laugh, she gathered her skirts.

"My apologies, little one. Sharon Ruiz."

"I'm Leblain."

"Suddenly so formal?"

"Out of respect for my aunt's friend."

"Didn't I just look like Javeline's friend a moment ago?"

"I don't show respect to the rude, even if they're my aunt's friends. I'm a lady of a ducal house, after all."

Aunt let out a soft chuckle and tousled my hair. Sharon laughed again.

"She has the poise to wear my designs. I've never made children's clothes, but inspiration just struck."

With that, she opened the door to the unmarked building.

Aunt and I followed her inside.

The interior was grand. She led us down a corridor and unlocked a door, revealing a spiral staircase.

"Go on up. I'll sketch while you two wait."

I gripped Aunt's hand tightly.

'This is Sharon's workshop.'

That's what the nobles called these stairs.

But it wasn't a dressmaking space.

This was a club where the uppermost echelons shared connections.

Melbein couldn't rival Sharon's prestige—not just because she was a superior designer, but because she ran this elite club.

Aunt and I ascended.

Up top, about twenty people chatted in small groups.

A noble spotted Aunt and approached with an "Oho."

"Lady Ariège!"

"Countess now."

"Ha ha, age dulls the memory. Right, Countess Ariège."

Aunt had stepped down as commander of the Empress's White Horse Knights and received her title upon establishing the Duvered branch house.

The man had slyly implied he was above a mere branch-house knight-turned-leader.

Aunt's correction was a warning: belittle her at your peril.

A taste of the capital's savage social sparring after so long.

People flocked around Aunt.

"And who's this child?"

"My niece."

"Ah, that..."

The man eyed me up and down.

"Good day, Marquis Adelbor."

"You know me?"

"Of course. You're the head of a founding merit house. I've admired tales of your exploits with the central knights in your youth."

Marquis Adelbor startled.

I'd flattered his house first, then jabbed at his knight background—echoing Aunt's point about "branch-house upstarts."

He was stunned that a child like me wielded perfect social repartee.

"My, she looks so young, yet sharp as a tack."

Other nobles took interest.

"A pleasure to meet you. Lady Lesilla, Count Castol, Marchioness Whisilroban."

I greeted them by name, and their faces registered genuine shock.

"How do you know me?"

"I studied up before coming to the capital. Lady Lesilla is said to have the finest sense in the city, a beautiful woman with radiant golden hair like sunlight itself. I knew it had to be you."

"How would a fresh debutante know my taste? Did you like today's dress?"

"No, it was standing to Marchioness Whisilroban's left on purpose. Since she holds her cane in her right hand, you positioned yourself so as not to inconvenience her."

I unleashed every trick from my fourth-life survival playbook, and smiles bloomed on their faces.

"Clever girl."

Lady Lesilla laughed warmly and handed me orange juice.

I flashed an innocent, childlike grin.

'Perfect. I've won over Lady Lesilla, the club's most influential voice.'

I took the juice and behaved myself by Aunt's side.

"Lady Lesilla's one of society's powerhouses. She's close with Empress Yvonne. Even ducal ladies don't always make her list, but her eyes lit up for you."

She kept stealing glances my way. She'd just asked another lady about my social schedule.

'But she's not the patroness I want.'

Has she not come today?

As I scanned the room...

A woman with thick, wavy dark brown hair was ascending the stairs.