Chapter 30
“The noblewoman who easily grew bored of everything never kept the boys she kidnapped for more than a year. So every year, she would gather new boys and go on a boy hunt.”
“On the first day of the Founding Festival, the noblewoman would take advantage of the noise from the fireworks displays held throughout the Empire and fire her gun all night. Then, the next day, she would go out again to collect new boys.”
“Victor, who barely escaped from her hunting grounds, hid in the filth of the slums.”
“Scorching heat, burning bullet wounds, and alleys crawling with the private soldiers she sent. Even as he drifted between life and death, soaked in the dirty sewers, the fireworks continued to burst.”
“Couples and families watched together from the streets. Below them, in the sewers, Victor trembled.”
“On that day, God awakened a fifteen-year-old boy. As if to mock his hatred of fire, He granted him a transcendent power—an ability over flame.”
Victor crouched on the ground, covering his ears. Not like a man standing beneath the exploding fireworks, but like the boy once trapped in the center of the hunt.
Even though he had the physique of a transcendent, a full-grown man, he looked pitifully fragile.
If he hadn’t met me here, he would’ve left the capital before the fireworks ever started. As always.
“Colonel.”
Wearing silk gloves, I reached out and gently pulled his arm away from his ears. Then, I used both hands to firmly cover them for him.
“You… why…”
For a brief moment, hatred and confusion flickered through his eyes—but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Pop, boom. Another round of loud fireworks drowned out his voice.
He squeezed his eyes shut again.
Eyes wandering in the air, breath short and ragged—watching someone in the depths of panic made me feel unexpectedly calm.
This is fate. I can’t miss this chance.
It was a golden opportunity to reduce his hatred level of 97.
I opened my arms slightly, as if to embrace him, and pressed more firmly over his ears. He lifted his head and stared at my face, reflecting the light of the fireworks.
“Are you afraid of fireworks?”
“…”
“I don’t know what happened to you… but it’s okay. You’re okay.”
“…”
“This is just a fireworks display. You’re safe.”
When someone is in the center of a trauma, the warmth of another person or the comfort of an embrace can help calm them.
I know. I’ve suffered from trauma too. In those moments, you’re in no position to be picky about who’s there for you.
At the most vulnerable, lonely point in trauma, the feeling of being protected creates a deeply instinctual bond.
[Hatred has decreased by 5.]
[Hatred has decreased by 3.]
See?
Seriously, I got lucky.
Exploiting someone’s trauma felt icky, sure—but what could I do? My own survival was at stake.
Soon, the popping and booming began to fade. Thanks to the long and extravagant fireworks for the Founding Day, I managed to lower his hatred quite a bit.
[Hatred: 80]
By the time the fireworks ended completely, with only smoke lingering in the night sky…
“Let go.”
Victor, who had been completely still, suddenly shook my hands off with force.
Sure. As you wish.
But it was fine. Thanks to the (-17) I saw in the system window, I had completely regained my composure.
80 is still high, but compared to 97, it’s a huge improvement.
“I told you not to touch me, didn’t I?”
“You did. I’m sorry.”
Despite Victor’s shameless and rude attitude, I could respond sweetly as much as I wanted.
As he brushed himself off, I waited a beat and then opened my mouth with a feigned innocent tone.
“Oh, that reminds me, today is…”
It was time for the final blow. The moment Victor turned to look at me, I offered him a gentle smile.
“Happy birthday, Victor.”
I’d never read them, but I knew from the thousands of letters that his birthday had been mentioned.
Last year, on the first day of the Founding Festival, Father had mockingly jeered at Victor’s birthday—taunting the sewer rat for being born on the founding day of Barcheha.
I saw Victor’s hand tremble slightly.
“I’m really glad you’re alive, Colonel.”
“…”
“And of course, thank you for saving me.”
Victor might be rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a cold-blooded sociopath like Zion.
Given that he grew up amidst a hellish criminal syndicate, it made sense that he’d be unfamiliar with kindness.
“I had my reasons for refusing your purification before… I’m sorry.”
With a remorseful look, I apologized. In this atmosphere, a long-winded excuse wouldn’t help—this was better.
He still looked cold and aloof as he stared down at me, but I kept my smile steady.
He glared as if he wanted to kill me, then coldly warned:
“Let’s not meet again. Stay out of my territory.”
[Hatred has decreased by 5.]
[Hatred: 75]
He turned sharply and left without another word, but fortunately, the hatred level had dropped just as I’d hoped.
Even after he disappeared into the distance, I kept smiling brightly. Only when I was sure he was far away did I finally drop the fake smile.
Geez. Did he think I wanted to see him again?
“I’m the one who hopes we never meet again, you rude bastard.”
* * *
Odette finally made it back to the count’s mansion, grinding her teeth at that rude jerk as she changed out of her bloodstained clothes.
Good thing I rode horses while escaping in my past life. At least I knew the basics of riding.
If the coachman hadn’t tied the horse to a separate gas lamp post, I wouldn’t have even made it back to the mansion. I might have died in the slums.
Knock knock. Malea tapped on Odette’s door.
It must’ve been 11 p.m.—the time they had agreed on.
“Did anyone come looking for me today?”
“No, miss. I followed your instructions and told everyone you were terribly ill with tuberculosis.”
“Well done.”
“No one entered your room either, so please don’t worry.”
As she spoke, Malea handed her a hot chocolate topped with marshmallows.
The sweet warmth helped loosen the tension in her body.
“Miss, you’ll be taking a bath, right? Please let me help you. I’ll bring warm water and a robe from downstairs. Just wait a moment.”
Unlike in the morning, Malea now acted completely polite.
You’d think she’d ask what I was doing all alone in here, or why I wouldn’t let anyone in.
But she didn’t even try to pry.
I could guess why. Probably because of what happened in the mansion today.
Just as Odette had predicted this morning, Fernand had returned and extended her mother’s confinement period.
Now that things are playing out as I said, she must be starting to take me more seriously.
Even the subtle arrogance Malea showed that morning had completely disappeared.
Not bad. I didn’t plan to trust her like Lize or anything, but even for a disposable pawn, I’d prefer a polite one.
Before long, the white porcelain tub was filled with warm water, and Malea carefully helped her into the bath.
“Is the water temperature okay?”
“Yes.”
“How about the scent of the bubble soap?”
“It’s nice.”
She even floated flower petals over the foam. Truly thorough.
As Odette relaxed, her voice grew languid. That’s when Malea, gauging the mood, brought up what she really wanted to say.
“Miss, you were right after all. The young master extended Madam’s confinement until the last day of the Founding Festival.”
“So?”
“Because of that, Madam caused a huge scene all afternoon. She even skipped all her meals.”
She sounded sympathetic, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of curiosity—clearly hoping Odette would explain something more, give her another prediction.
“Why do you think the young master suddenly made that decision? The only people he met today were the head maid and the housekeeper. Those two are loyal to Madam, so they couldn’t have badmouthed her…”
“She must’ve been very heartbroken.”
But Odette cut the conversation short in a flat voice.
Do I owe you an explanation?
Malea looked disappointed, but she had no choice since Odette clearly didn’t want to keep talking.
“Exactly. The young master was too harsh. Madam had been looking forward to this Founding Festival so much.”
As the conversation ended, silence returned to the bathroom, broken only by the gentle lapping of water. Odette naturally drifted into thought.
Of course her mother had thrown a fit. The Empress’s salon exhibition was the chance of a lifetime to fulfill her lifelong dream.
To miss that opportunity because of her son’s punishment—she must be livid.
If she had been invited by the Empress and entered the inner circle of the salon exhibition, her mother would finally be accepted into high society as a legitimate guest—someone no one could dismiss.
Integration into noble society. That longed-for ticket had effectively been snatched away by her own son.
