Chapter 53
Countless rounds of applause.
At the applause of the Nebula ducal family's servants, the people in the banquet hall, who had been stunned by the duke's forceful declaration, gradually came to their senses and began applauding as well.
'That man...'
As they continued applauding, Marcel looked at Abel, who stood before the duke and silently looked down at them all.
Grayish hair.
Decadent eyes and a languid atmosphere that only heightened their effect.
A handsome young man with a youthful face that seemed to have only just reached adulthood, at odds with that atmosphere.
'The heir to the Nebula ducal family.'
The man who would soon become the King of the Underworld.
Clap clap clap!
As time passed and the applause began to die down, the duke's amused voice once again rang through the banquet hall.
"Then I suppose I'll be leaving soon."
Leaving? The Duke of Nebula?
At the duke's declaration, flustered reactions began erupting from most of the people in the banquet hall.
The succession ceremony had only just begun, and Abel had just been introduced to the retainers, yet the duke was saying he would leave. It was an impossible situation.
After briefly enjoying their reactions, the duke raised one corner of his mouth and spoke.
"My physical condition isn't very good, you see."
[!!!]
The duke—the head of the Nebula ducal family, known as the King of the Underworld—was saying with his own mouth that he had grown weak?
It was madness. Utterly reckless madness at that.
As the man seated in the position of duke, he had far too many enemies.
Even if everyone gathered here had sworn loyalty to House Nebula, rumors were certain to spread naturally.
And what would become of the Nebula ducal family, which was deeply connected to the underworld—or rather, controlled it so completely that calling it merely connected was absurd?
If the people in the territory learned that the duke had grown weak, they would naturally launch an attack. But what about the people in the shadows?
Assassination would be the least of it; they might poison him or even launch a genuine coup.
'Madness...'
Having realized this, Marcel watched Abel with trembling eyes. Abel was standing before the duke, staring at him with an expression of annoyance.
Did he really believe that much in him?
Even if he were assassinated and killed, and his enemies then tried to kill Abel?
The fundamental reason behind that action was his certainty that Abel himself would not collapse.
It was an act of handing Abel all his power and authority with a single deed, rather than a hundred words.
"Phew..."
Despite the weight of the situation, Abel merely sighed in annoyance and glared at the duke.
Instead, the majority of the people in the banquet hall were overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the two men's presence.
Grin.
Receiving Abel's glare, the duke smiled lightly at the amusing situation and exited.
...
"What are you all waiting for?"
The people in the banquet hall had briefly frozen at the duke's sudden and shocking words. Abel waved a hand dismissively and sat down on a chair whose origin no one knew.
Pop!
At the same time, all the lights that had gone out came back on at once.
"The banquet isn't over yet."
With Abel's words, the tense atmosphere slowly began to ease.
The people in the banquet hall began whispering in earnest with the servants or acquaintances they had brought with them.
And among them, one man.
A man in a mafia-style suit looked at his subordinate and spoke.
"Did you see that?"
"... No, sir. He clearly seemed to use mana, but I couldn't see it."
"Ngh... Really?"
The man looked at Abel, who was taking out a cigar and preparing to smoke it in the center of the banquet hall, and muttered.
"He's a monster."
Yes. A monster.
Not everyone here was a mana awakener, but there were certainly people who had awakened their mana.
And every one of them was a powerful person who had reached a certain level of mastery.
He himself was one, as was his subordinate.
And he had deceived their eyes and lit all the extinguished lights in the banquet hall at once?
Had he used mana while covering the entire enormous banquet hall and fooling the eyes of the many mana awakeners gathered here?
"He's still the same."
An existence that anyone with ties to the underworld, especially those rooted in the Empire, had heard of at least once.
"The title 'Demon of Smoke' wasn't just an empty name."
The boss of the Arpe Family.
Fran smiled lightly as he looked at Abel, who was sitting in a chair with an annoyed expression while smoking a cigar.
"Then shall we go say hello?"
"... Are you sure?"
Fran's subordinate turned his head toward Abel, who was far away, savoring his cigar as though warning everyone not to approach him without good reason.
A cigar was a refined pastime.
Once someone lit a cigar, they generally did not move from their seat without a very good reason.
What could it mean for him to openly smoke such a cigar in a banquet hall like this?
[He has no intention of leaving, but unless it's important enough to interrupt his cigar, don't speak to him.]
"Haha!"
At his subordinate's words, Fran smiled lightly and spoke as though it were nothing.
"It's just a greeting. A greeting."
***
Annoying.
That was the emotion I felt when I entered the banquet hall and found everyone's attention focused on me after the duke's outrageous declaration.
As I exhaled a long stream of cigar smoke, the smoke billowing from my mouth slowly scattered through the air.
I quietly watched the cigar smoke, propped my chin on my hand, and looked out over the noisy banquet hall.
'At least that's fortunate?'
Few people were pestering me.
Ah, of course, it wasn't as if there were none at all.
After all, I had spoken with the boss of the Arpe Family, whom I had only heard about, and with a businessman named Lucas.
...
[Sob! Thank goodness! To think an heir like this has appeared in the Nebula ducal family!]
When I remembered the moment a tearful voice drew everyone's attention in the middle of my conversation with the businessman who had introduced himself as Lucas, my eyes closed of their own accord.
He was definitely an old man who ran a massive automobile company, wasn't he?
He was even older than the current duke, and he had attended the duke's succession ceremony.
It seemed that the existence of someone like me had made quite an impression on him.
[Please tell me if you ever require my assistance!]
On the surface, he looked like an overindulgent grandfather, but his true thoughts were different.
'He was classified as a potential defector, wasn't he?'
The people in this banquet hall belonged to three categories. This was a lineup painstakingly selected by the duke, me, and the people of [White Shadow].
First.
People who had chosen submission and were capable of wielding a certain level of influence.
Second.
People who had submitted but had something suspicious about them and seemed to harbor other thoughts.
Finally, third.
'Those who had shown signs of trying to defect to another ducal family.'
Of course, the Nebula ducal family had not particularly punished them.
It wasn't because the ducal family was broad-minded; rather, they had simply judged that none of those defectors was a heavyweight worth making an enemy of another ducal family to stop.
But there was one exception, and that person was Lucas Framer.
'Hmm. What exactly was written in the report?'
Ah, right.
[There is a risk that Lucas Framer may defect, but it is not yet certain.]
[There is no concrete evidence, and his influence must also be considered. Weighing these two factors, classify him as a high-risk defection candidate.]
Lucas himself probably knew this fact as well.
So that commotion had been a kind of performance.
He was probably a man who would have considered defecting immediately if I had not met Lucas's standards.
That was only natural, considering the sharp gleam in his eyes beneath that seemingly doting-grandfather behavior.
"Phew..."
'Politics is a hassle.'
I had always thought that in my previous life too, and I had reached the same conclusion.
Why did people insist on making everything so complicated?
Thinking that, I took a puff from the half-burned cigar and exhaled the smoke.
The distinctive, rich, heavy scent of a cigar filled my mouth and nose.
It was one of the high-end cigars I had obtained under the conditions Mist had set.
Step. Step.
As I enjoyed the cigar's aroma, I heard footsteps approaching me.
When I turned toward the source of the sound, I saw a young man who looked to be somewhere between his thirties and forties.
He seemed too nervous to keep his eyes fixed in one place, but his footsteps were firm.
"Good evening, Lord Abel. My name is Marcel. I am merely the owner of a small automobile company."
As he said this, Marcel bent his waist at a right angle.
He was a person I remembered.
He was not a dangerous person. I remembered him as the owner of a rapidly growing company who had barely scraped past the requirements for this succession ceremony.
"Yes, it's nice to meet you, Marcel. But what is it?"
Swish.
Marcel straightened his back, swallowed dryly, and spoke in a slightly stiff voice.
"I have something to say to you privately, Lord Abel."
[!!]
"Would you be willing to spare me some of your time?"
At Marcel's words, voices of astonishment began erupting around us.
Think about it. The heir to the Nebula ducal family.
An existence whom the current duke had publicly announced while risking some of his own safety.
Before long, Abel would certainly become the head of the Nebula ducal family.
To audaciously request a private audience with such a person was close to a reckless gamble. If things went wrong, it meant ruin, and even if he brought good news, unless it was something huge, there was no telling what danger he might incur.
"Heh heh. Well, now."
Lucas, who had been observing Marcel's movements from a little distance away, let out a hollow laugh at his audacious words.
"Hmm. A private audience?"
After glancing around at the brief commotion, I smiled lightly and looked at Marcel, who was desperately trying to suppress his trembling body before me.
"I understand what you're getting at."
"..."
"I'll give you one chance to postpone it. How about it?"
"... No, it's fine."
His hands were clenched so tightly that barely any blood seemed to be circulating through them.
And yet he wanted a private audience with me.
Interesting, huh?
"All right."
I stood up, left the astonished people behind, and looked at Marcel as I spoke.
"Follow me."
***
When Marcel arrived at the reception room, he sat down with stiff movements and began staring straight ahead.
Anyone could see how nervous he was.
"You seem awfully stiff."
"Ah! I'll do it!"
When I personally brought over the coffee, he jumped up in panic, making it look like I was watching a comedy.
In truth, there were quite a few things I could say here.
It was cliché, but I could tell him not to be nervous and to relax. There were plenty of things like that I could say.
Even so, I decided not to bother with them.
"No, I can at least do this much for you. Can't I give you even this much as fare for the road to the afterlife?"
The man before me had steeled himself for this.
It would be discourteous to speak lightly in front of someone who had made such preparations.
I gave a faint smile as I watched the man freeze at my words.
...
After briefly closing his eyes and suppressing his nervousness, Marcel slowly opened them, looked straight at me, and spoke.
"There is going to be an attack at the entrance ceremony of [Crocus Academy]."
...
"And the many high-ranking scions entering this semester, as well as Saint Ariel of the [Church of Light], seem to be the primary targets of the enemy."
What I had heard was troublesome enough to make this man request a private audience with me.
I already knew that the roster of people entering [Crocus Academy] this time was suspiciously illustrious.
A prince of a kingdom was the bare minimum, and I had heard that the heir to the Northern Ducal Family, one of the Empire's four great ducal families, would be attending as well.
A great many scions of prestigious families and promising mages.
They were so extraordinary that one could call them a golden class.
An attack during the enrollment of such a golden class?
“And”
It was already troublesome enough that such a golden class was going to be attacked, but Marcel seemed intent on adding even more trouble to it.
“It seems they'll carry out the attack using the power of heresy.”
…
Heresy, attack, the golden class, the academy.
All the troublesome keywords had been gathered in one place.
“Haa…”
I let out a sigh and looked at Marcel...
No, I looked at the [White Shadow] informant secretly planted by the Nebula ducal family.
notes