Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Murmurs.
Brilliant lights illuminated the imperial banquet hall.
The chandeliers, lit purely by mana without electricity, glittered so fiercely they could blind you, and the jewels set into the nobles’ clothes were all busy shouting for attention.
The air, mixed with perfume, food, and fake laughter, was stifling.
“Ugh, the smell.”
I wrinkled my nose and loosened my tie a little.
I'd been dragged here after my father's threats, but I had only one goal.
Stay as invisible as possible, fill my stomach, and bolt.
After quickly scanning the food, I started filling my stomach with the know-how forged by endless buffets.
Wow, this place really knows canapés.
That stuff on top is foie gras, right? It melts in my mouth.
I marveled as I worked through the mountain of food piled on my plate one by one.
Especially this smoked salmon roll—now this was the real deal.
Nicely fatty, perfect with soju.
Unfortunately, there was nothing here that could even stand in for it—just wine and flat champagne, no tequila either.
“Can I pack some of this to take home? Aunt Marie would love it if I brought it to her.”
I was mumbling to myself and tearing off a lobster claw with my bare hands when—
prickly stares from around me began sticking into my back.
“Who is that?”
“They say he's the second son of the Farne family.”
“…A man eating with those hands? You're saying he's not a barbarian, but an Imperial subject—an aristocrat, even?”
“Oh, the count and the eldest son are impeccably refined. Why is he like that...?”
“Tsk tsk, the count really is an exceptional man. For someone from such a remote place in the south, he’s an intellectual and has such remarkable cultivation he even rose to the position of court count.”
That last remark was twisted praise, but in the end it was just them saying my dad was freakishly exceptional for his background, and I was the normal one they could dunk on.
This was the kind of place where a Chungcheong person and a Kyoto person would join hands and get slapped back and forth together.
I hated myself for being so Seoul-seasoned that I could even understand that bullshit.
The whispers of young ladies hiding their mouths behind fans and gentlemen holding champagne flutes buzzed like flies.
But I snorted and slurped down the lobster meat.
'Jeez, the territorial bullshit in Seoul is the same here as it is back home. They say even dogs won't bother you while you're eating.'
This is exactly why I didn't want to come to the capital.
Just giving me dirty looks and that sort of thing.
I tossed the shell onto my plate and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
I didn't know anyone here anyway, and I had no desire to wedge myself in among those bundles of pretension and laugh along to flatter them.
At times like this, strategic retreat is the answer.
I casually snatched up a fresh champagne glass and slowly backed toward the darkest-looking spot behind the curtains.
*
As I parted the thick velvet curtain and stepped out onto the terrace, a cool night breeze rushed over me.
“Ahh, now I can breathe.”
Leaning against the railing, I looked up at the night sky and took a sip of champagne.
As expected, the best way to enjoy a party is to run away and drink alone.
Of course, this was the first party of my life.
I was just about to enjoy my peaceful alone time when it happened.
From behind a massive pillar, near the terrace railing, I heard someone's heated voice.
“How many times do I have to say it before you'll understand me?”
“Your Highness, please... please don't trample on my honor any further. What did I ever do so wrong...!”
“I! I’m the one abandoning all my dignity just to spit such vile words at you. Your very existence is suffocating. That venomous glare, that attitude like you’re watching me—none of it is bearable!”
Huh? That tone sounds really familiar.
It's the classic bad-boy tone and the tragic heroine tone.
Though, yeah, it's spread on a little too thick.
'Anyway, this is hella entertaining.'
I ended up getting a front-row seat to a lovers’ quarrel.
Instinctively, I hid behind the pillar.
I peeked out a little and saw a blond beauty in a splendid uniform facing off against a woman in a dress.
The man was driving the woman into a corner with a furious expression.
The woman had her head bowed, her shoulders trembling.
“I think we should call off the engagement, all of it. We've gone too far.”
After hurling those poisonous words, the man shoved the woman away roughly, spun on his heel, and stormed off.
Once the man disappeared, the woman collapsed where she stood and began to sob.
Hic... sob...
Her silver hair, shimmering in the moonlight, swayed pitifully.
Wait, what the hell.
That's it already?
'What a waste of a peek.'
They say trashy drama is fun to watch, and seeing it live in person is entertaining too.
But if it's a noble lovers’ spat, that's a slightly different story.
Because if I get caught, it'll be a pain.
'Time to bail.'
I quietly backed away with the champagne glass in hand.
Stealthily like a ninja, swiftly like the wind.
Holding my breath, I moved my feet.
I probably looked pretty ridiculous crab-walking toward the curtains.
Whatever. Better than getting tangled up in some annoying mess by a hundred times.
But.
Creak!
The moment the floorboard screamed, my heart dropped too.
Damn it.
What kind of garbage maintenance is this for an imperial terrace floor?
The banquet hall was all shiny marble, wasn't it? Did they run out of money when they laid the marble here?
Where the hell is all the tax money leaking to?
While I was freaking out.
The trembling shoulders stopped abruptly, and that silver head slowly turned toward me. Our eyes met.
So this is what they mean by eyes full of malice, huh, damn it?
The violet eyes staring at me were brimming with venom, and thanks to the tears ruining her face, the concentration of that venom had doubled.
Silence.
Suffocating silence enveloped the terrace.
I froze, my hand still awkwardly holding the champagne glass.
'...Should I pretend I didn't see anything and leave? Or act like I'm lost?'
“…….”
The woman's eyes narrowed. As if she'd picked me as her punching bag, venom rose over her face.
Should I swing first?
“Uh, well.”
Shit.
What the hell am I supposed to say in a situation like this?
“Who are you?”
Her sharp voice flew at me and stabbed in like a dagger.
“How long have you been there? Eavesdropping so sneakingly—you're clearly someone who knows nothing of noble decorum.”
Once again, it's easiest to think of noble speech as a mix of Chungcheong dialect and Kyoto-style phrasing.
In other words, she's speaking all refined, but her eyes are hurling every vulgar insult imaginable.
Ah, I picked the wrong person.
This does not feel like the kind of situation she's going to let slide.
Normally, in situations like this, the smart move for people here is to flatten themselves on the floor and ask forgiveness—“I’m sorry, my lady. I did this and that, blah blah blah, and then I…” and so on.
It’s been twenty years since I got dropped into this other world, and I still can't get used to those butter-slick lines they keep saying.
On top of that, I can't stand injustice, so my mouth started moving on its own.
Screw it.
It'll work out somehow. My dad's a court count.
“No, did I look because I wanted to?”
“What did you say?”
“And let’s correct the facts here. I wasn't eavesdropping; you were the ones interrupting my champagne time. I was here first, watching the moon, you know?”
The woman's eyes widened into perfect circles.
She looked like this was the first time she'd seen someone clap back so shamelessly.
It probably was the first time.
In these circles, that's considered truly uncouth—the so-called hood-style way of talking.
The shittier your mood, the more you’re supposed to keep a poker face, grease up your tongue, and hit them with some roundabout three-cushion wordplay so people go, “My, what a noble sense of decorum you have.”
“I, I... I never expected there to be such an impolite person.”
“If you're going to shout and fight all over the place, then hoping not to be caught is just thief mentality. You should've put up a soundproofing spell or something.”
“Are you talking to me right now?”
“Yes. There's no one else here, is there?”
As I sipped my champagne and shrugged, the woman gaped, her jaw practically hanging open.
I kept staring straight at her.
Wow. Up close, she was even more of a sight.
Her eye makeup had smeared, her nose was red—and yet she was still disgustingly pretty.
Silver hair and violet eyes—what, did someone custom-make her like a game character?
She was the kind of beauty that would make me happily blow my whole paycheck on looks, no regrets.
“And you, with that ridiculously pretty face, why are you crying your eyes out over some guy like that? If you're wronged, go and ram into him or something.”
“...Pardon?”
“I mean, isn't that obvious? You can't not know you're pretty, and if you gathered everyone who likes you, ten carts probably wouldn't be enough.”
I wasn't trying to act like some simp; objectively, she was absurdly gorgeous, so this was just stating facts.
The woman before me barely managed to pull herself together and tried to answer as if nothing had happened, but—
“...Do you always show affection to anyone?”
“This isn't a sign of affection. I'm just stating the facts.”
My slick little quip broke her again immediately.
“By the way, your ear is bright red. You really aren't used to lines like this, huh?”
The woman in front of me was completely red in the face.
Her ear looks like it's about to cook through.
Was that really blunt flirting to this degree?
If I said stuff like this at the union club drinking meet, I'd get nothing but middle fingers and a “Quit trying to flirt.”
Seriously, these otherworldly bastards only know how to butter up their tongues. Tsk.
Still, I did accidentally witness an embarrassing scene, so it should be fine to do a little mental aftercare, right?
“Anyway, if I were as pretty as you, I'd have gone and grabbed his hair instead of crying. Or slapped him clean across the face. You'd have plenty of options either way.”
But her reaction was like she'd just heard alien speech.
“Hair... grab? Options?”
“Could you say that again?”
“…….”
The woman's lips quivered.
I was wondering if she was trembling because she was angry and was starting to calculate my escape route when—
Pfft!
She burst out.
The woman bowed her head, her shoulders shaking.
She was crying and laughing at the same time, seriously.
“Kh, khk... ahaha!”
It must have been quite a shock to hear such crude yet refreshing advice for the first time in her life.
Laughing while holding her stomach, forgetting all about dignity and decorum, she looked a hundred times better than she had while sniffling earlier.
Seeing her laugh, I grinned and raised my empty champagne glass.
“Oh, you laughed? Then that pays for my peeking, right? No taking it back later, okay?”
The woman lifted her head, wiping away the tears at the corners of her eyes.
Life returned to her violet eyes.
“...You're really a strange person.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
I gave a lazy wave and turned around.
Getting entangled any further would be a pain. This amount is just right. Knowing when to hit and run is a cool guy's virtue.
I pushed aside the curtain and stepped back into the banquet hall, when once again a clear laugh sounded behind me.
Pfft!
“Hair, huh.”
I had the feeling I'd taught her something dangerous, but whatever.
As long as it wasn't my hair, that was fine.
*
“Ugh, shit. This is why it's Seoul.”
Even if I crawled all the way into the corners, there'd still be people there.
It felt just like the nightmares from when I went on college MTs.
Those couples who vanish during drinking games, always saying they're going to buy ice cream.
The fucking rage of it.
This time, at least, it was the opposite, so I was truly relieved.
That was when—
Pa-ra-bang—!
A resounding trumpet blast rang thunderously through the banquet hall.
At the same time, the massive doors at the entrance swung open, and a guard's voice boomed out.
“The sun of the Empire, His Highness Crown Prince Louis de Leopold, and!”
“The flower of Rosenberg, Lady Elysia von Rosenberg, is entering!”
“...Huh?”
Wait a second.
Louis?
Elysia?
...Huh?
These names... I've heard them somewhere before.
In the estate? No. No famous names ever flew into a backwater like that. Damn, who was it?
In an instant.
Something that had been sealed away deep in a corner of my past-life memories stirred.
Fragments of memory sparked like electricity.
'Hey, if the male lead's name is Louis, does that guy end up on the guillotine too?'
'Ah, you crazy bastard! Shut up for once! You're ruining the mood!'
Smack!
The memory of getting a solid smack on the back from my older sister.
The cover of a romance fantasy novel my younger sister read while rolling around on her bed.
And my sister, from beside her.
“Hey, the male lead in this novel is trash, but his face is the reason it works.”
...she'd said, snickering.
What was the title of that novel again?
“I Want to Live Quietly in This Life...?”
Oh, fuck.
Why does the vague memory fit so damn well?
I stared blankly down at the turkey leg in my hand.
Suddenly, all the incongruities of this world began clicking together like a puzzle.
*
*
*
No wonder.
So that’s why there was a highway rest stop in what was supposed to be medieval fantasy.
It was weird that they could run refrigerators and air conditioners with magic, yet the Industrial Revolution never happened and everyone still rode around in carriages.
Same with nobles caring more about verbal sparring than sword fights.
“...Ah, I'm fucked.”
The curse burst out of me aloud.
Shit, no way?
I'm inside that novel?