Chapter 1
It had been seven long years since Vieta had fallen into the Empire of Dikram.
As if becoming a woman from a man weren't enough,
Vieta had become a debtor.
The reason was simple.
Gambling.
After defeating the Demon King, she had nothing to do, so she happened upon a gambling den.
And there, she became utterly addicted to gambling.
The sight of demon beasts resembling gigantic dinosaurs racing around had captivated her at once.
Unlike Vieta's companions, who had each landed prestigious positions in the empire and lived in splendor thanks to their achievement in defeating the Demon King, Vieta had ended up working as a fixer in the smallest shop on the capital's busiest shopping street, living hand to mouth—working, earning, and eating one day at a time.
And now, she was entertaining a truly strange customer who had come to the consultation room.
*
The man with shaggy brown hair and ordinary clothes
couldn't even properly make eye contact with Vieta,
yet he could sit in the consultation room's luxurious chair without the slightest change in expression,
and had the sense to immediately recognize Trom tea, which even most nobles rarely got to taste.
He seemed aristocratic, yet ordinary.
Yet for someone who looked so ordinary, there was something about his behavior that struck Vieta as oddly unsettling.
‘It would be nice if he were a big shot.’
The fact that someone was looking for a fixer meant they all had their own circumstances.
If she was going to do rough work, it was better to take on nobles' requests.
Nobles' requests paid more than commoners' requests.
When Vieta returned to the consultation room, she looked over the request form the client had filled out while she was in the pantry.
The faintly golden-glowing paper was one of the indispensable tools of a fixer who handled all sorts of shady jobs,
a magic tool she had commissioned her friend Fulcare, the head of the Empire's Ministry of Magic, to make especially for her.
For its outrageous price of one gold coin per sheet, it had been enchanted to look like a blank page unless its owner gave permission.
“Your name is Blanc Alexandre de Leber. May I call you Mr. Blanc?”
The fact that he had a family name confirmed that he was a noble.
Leber…
Vieta repeated the surname silently several times.
She couldn't remember exactly, but it was a surname that felt familiar somehow.
“Yes. That's fine.”
The man answered while drinking his tea with elegant poise.
The writing on the request form was just as neat and refined as its owner's manners.
Vieta carefully scanned down the request form, then tilted her head.
The request itself was far too ordinary for a noble.
Nobles usually wanted someone taken care of.
If not that, they wanted jobs that lay on the fine boundary between legality and illegality.
“The request says… you're looking for a partner for a ball?”
Given his age, it didn't seem to be for a coming-of-age ceremony.
It seemed to be a ball held to celebrate some family event.
"Yes, is that not possible?"
"No. Of course it's possible. We get lots of requests like that from other people too."
Vieta quickly ran through the possibilities.
There were three main criteria for choosing a partner for a ball.
A powerful family. Wealth. Or outstanding looks.
Judging by the way he treated the Trom tea and ornate chair as if they were nothing special, it was clear that the man's family was powerful or that he was wealthy.
Therefore, it was highly likely that the partner the man wanted was not the daughter of a prominent or wealthy family.
People often wanted what they themselves lacked.
“I'll send you someone strikingly attractive, so they won't tarnish your reputation.”
Vieta had analyzed the client's needs as best she could and presented what she thought was a brilliant answer.
But Blanc's reaction was far from pleased.
“Is that all?”
The man's expression shifted strangely.
“…Do you need anything else? If you wish, I can add other conditions as well?”
“Ah, no.”
With an uneasy feeling,
Vieta checked the paper once more just in case, but nothing had been written there.
The client's name and the contents of the request.
And the blank section for special requirements.
“Are you really sure? It would be troublesome if you added to or changed your request midway.”
Vieta probed Blanc one more time.
Usually, when someone acted like that, it meant they were hiding something.
“Yes, I'm sure. Nothing will change.”
If he was that insistent, then.
Vieta even added a note to the special requirements stating that she had confirmed there were no additional requests.
“Our office currently operates on a prepaid basis. The total fee is six gold coins, and the contract will be complete once you pay five gold coins as a deposit.”
“…Six gold coins?”
Blanc made another foolish expression.
Whether it was too cheap or too expensive, she couldn't tell.
Just moments ago, she'd been worried his mouth might turn up, but now Vieta had to work to keep herself from frowning.
“Here you are.”
Despite his odd attitude, Blanc paid five gold coins on the spot.
“Is that all there is to it?”
“Yes. If you're truly dissatisfied, you can cancel the request. What would you like to do?”
Vieta would have liked to cancel it first herself, but she couldn't afford to, not with her livelihood on the line.
“Ah, no.”
The expression on Blanc's face remained just as inscrutable.
It looked as though he found her difficult to trust, and Vieta was offended.
Before her feelings could be hurt any further, Vieta hurried to show Blanc to the exit.
The tiny office had a separate entrance and exit.
It was meant to protect the privacy of clients coming in and out of the fixer's office.
On top of that, the barely eight-pyeong space was crammed with a simple pantry and a consultation room boxed in on all four sides.
Fortunately, Blanc headed without fuss toward the automatic warp system that served as the exit.
Even so, he never changed that strange expression until the very end.
That bothered Vieta.
*
As soon as Blanc left, the next customer, Countess Gascoigne, stormed into the office as though she'd been waiting for him to go.
She looked as neat and composed as ever, but Vieta noticed something.
A single red strand of hair caught in the countess's glove.
Count Gascoigne was going bald, as far as Vieta knew…
Vieta offered a silent consolation—not that it was much consolation—to the now-bald Count Gascoigne.
After paying the remaining balance, the countess
took the blue crystal containing the evidence Vieta had collected at dawn and disappeared.
If the blue crystal were placed in the holy water at the temple, the highly flamboyant and explicit sex scene Count Gascoigne had shown her last night would appear on the sacred temple wall.
Whether Countess Gascoigne divorced him or used it to hold the count by the throat and live in comfort,
Vieta didn't care either way, but she vowed to avoid requests to record sex scenes from then on.
Sunset fell outside the window, and no one else came to the office.
That meant the country was peaceful, but for Vieta, a small-business owner, it was truly sad news.
Before cleaning the office, Vieta diligently recorded the day's income and expenses in the ledger.
She had to save every penny if she was ever going to pay off that enormous debt.
“Let's see. Today's total income is seven gold coins.”
It wasn't a bad haul.
She had lived on nothing but jerky all week, but with what she'd made today, she thought she could at least afford a decent home-style meal.
“Ugh, when will I ever pay off this debt?”
It would be nice if she earned this much every day, but because of the nature of being a fixer, there were plenty of days when she came up empty-handed.
Lamenting her lot in life, Vieta picked up a broom and began cleaning.
***
“Our Vieta. You don't even open the door for me now?”
A man with golden hair that resembled the radiant sun and deep blue eyes reminiscent of sapphires
had torn open the firmly locked office door and entered, dressed in typical noble attire.
He was the archmage who had defeated the Demon King alongside Vieta,
and now served as the head of the Empire's Ministry of Magic: Fulcare.
“…Fix it.”
Fulcare chuckled at Vieta's words and restored the door to its original state.
“By the way, why'd you close the office so early?”
“Since you're here, you must've left work before me. You shouldn't be saying things like that.”
“I'm a high-ranking official, so no one can touch me.”
“Ah, yes.”
Of course you are.
Vieta grumbled.
“I have to clean. Move.”
Despite Vieta's scolding,
Fulcare brewed himself a cup of that expensive Trom tea in the pantry before entering the consultation room.
*
Cleaning alone had suddenly made her hungry,
so Vieta hurriedly finished cleaning and entered the consultation room where Fulcare was waiting.
The gentle fragrance of the incense lit in the consultation room to ease the customers' tension greeted Vieta.
“What are you doing? Buy me dinner. I'm seriously sick of jerky.”
Despite Vieta's playful words, Fulcare was reading the document with a serious expression.
It was the request form Blanc had filled out.
As the person who had made the paper, Fulcare could read its contents even without permission from Vieta, its owner.
“Vieta, you didn't accept this request, did you?”
Fulcare's voice trembled slightly.
“Huh? Of course I did.”
It had felt a little fishy, though.
Vieta added that afterward, but apparently Fulcare didn't hear her.
“Are you insane?”
His voice was far more heated than usual.
Fulcare covered his face with one hand, then shook his head.
“Why? What's the matter?”
It was only a request—she could still cancel it.
She had received the deposit, but she hadn't spent a single coin of it yet.
“…The prince.”
“What did you say? Speak properly. Who is it? Someone you know?”
Had he gone senile already? Why couldn't he just speak properly?
Vieta urged Fulcare on.
“The crown prince! The crown prince! Vieta, how do you not even know the crown prince's name!”
The instant she heard the words crown prince, Vieta's thoughts froze solid.