~Chapter 3~
The jewelry and cash Aisha had taken with her quickly ran out.
In the end, she resolved to pick up the pen again to survive.
‘Yeah. This is the only thing I’m really good at.’
No matter the business, the first thing to do is market research. From what Aisha had observed, the role of the press in the Draxion Empire was hopelessly monotonous.
The Imperial Newspaper, backed by the palace, functioned as nothing more than a mouthpiece for the royal family. A few other small papers existed, but they also tiptoed around the palace’s influence and produced nothing noteworthy.
‘I’m not about to write fluff like that. Besides, I’ve had enough of political reporting. That job literally got me killed.’
Wasn’t there an easier route?
Aisha’s dilemma was unexpectedly solved in the least expected place.
“The only thing noblewomen do is gossip when they get together.”
“Totally. They act all refined, but they’re obsessed with scandal.”
It was in a cheap tavern where she overheard two suspicious-looking men with scars on their faces whispering to each other.
“Not long ago, a young lady came to me with a crazy request. You know Viscount Preston, right?”
“Yeah. Isn’t he that pretty boy?”
“Exactly. She wanted me to dig up everything about him. His taste in food, his ideal type… his every move. Ridiculous.”
“So, did you do it?”
“Of course I did. Why even ask?”
The pay was massive.
The moment Aisha saw the man making a circle with his fingers to signal money, she had a revelation.
…That’s it.
That’s it!
That could make money!
Aisha immediately targeted her main audience—noblewomen and ladies—and picked the perfect genre to capture their attention:
Gossip.
She had loved the novel The Emperor Can’t Live Without His Captive, and remembered every event and character in vivid detail.
But she still needed some investigative work. She had to learn more about the most popular men in high society—nobles who garnered all the attention. Their preferences, their secrets.
So while the genre changed, her skills as a seasoned journalist didn’t.
Aisha began diligently recruiting informants.
Maids and butlers in noble houses, gossip from social circles—anyone who could leak information.
“Baron Crawford? Oh, he’s very popular, of course. But as you know, in our household, the madam holds all the power… Ah! Keep that between us, please.”
Battlefield of in-laws: The Crawford Household
Would you fight a witch to claim a beautiful husband?
“The current darling of society is definitely Viscount Rowen.”
“But doesn’t he have a bad reputation? I heard he’s a womanizer.”
“Haha, you’re still so young! That’s actually why he’s popular—it makes everything more casual. That’s why he prefers married women, too, don’t you think?”
Serial seducer Viscount Rowen: Everyone’s lightweight lover.
Aisha even sold out her own family.
“Leoric Ashton, son of Count Ashton! A behind-the-scenes tale from his debutante ball!
We’re not sure there’s demand, but for those with unique tastes, this issue features a special on Count Ashton himself!”
And so, Aisha spent nearly half a year writing articles.
But there was one thing she had overlooked.
‘How am I supposed to publish this?’
There was only one printing house in the capital. And with her sensitive content, using them would be like digging her own grave.
While she was stressing over this, help came from an unexpected source—her younger brother, Leoric.
“Life’s so boring without you, sis. All I do is listen to Father’s crazy rants.”
Although she had run away, her relationship with Leoric wasn’t bad. She had given him the address to her new home, and he visited her frequently.
“You look like death. You’ve been busy with that magazine or whatever, right?”
“I just don’t know how to print it.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t think it through. Writing’s not enough—I need to figure out printing and distribution. My brain’s about to explode.”
Leoric stared at his sister pulling at her hair, then scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“I met a weird guy at a bar yesterday.”
“Was he hot?”
“No.”
“Then why mention him.”
“That’s not the point… Anyway, do you know about Rune?”
Rune?
That name never even came up in the original novel.
“What’s that?”
“And you call yourself a journalist? It’s the name of an underground guild. The kind that’ll kill people—for a price.”
They’ll kill people?
Then printing a magazine should be way easier.
Aisha’s ears perked up like a rabbit’s.
“The guy said his cousin’s master’s ex-servant’s dog—wait, no. His friend’s cousin’s servant fell in love with a noble lady.”
So… basically, a stranger?
Still, Aisha listened to her brother continue.
“The noble found out and it caused a huge scandal. The servant got fired, and the lady was locked away at home.”
“And?”
“He used all his savings to hire Rune. With their help, the two managed to elope. The guy was totally drunk, but I figure it’s worth looking into. Could be dangerous though.”
Right. If this is a romance-fantasy world, there has to be a shadowy guild like that.
But meeting a member of Rune was like chasing a star in the sky.
Aisha used every informant she had, tracked down sightings, and after several days, finally discovered an old tavern.
Ironically, it was less than five minutes from her house.
Aisha began camping out there, trying her hardest to win over the bartender. After all, if anyone knew something, it would be him.
“One of your most expensive drinks, please.”
“Same as yesterday.”
“The usual.”
But the cost-to-benefit ratio was awful. The bartender was like a personification of silence—no matter what she said, he gave no real answers.
And then, just when Aisha had completely run out of money—even money for tomorrow’s bread—
“…The cheapest one you’ve got.”
“Seems you’ve run out of funds.”
For the first time, the bartender spoke to Aisha.
“Well, I mean… who wants steak every day, right? Sometimes you need instant noodles. Don’t worry, I can pay for the drink.”
“I don’t know what ‘instant noodles’ are, but yes—eating steak every day does get dull.”
The bartender chuckled lightly, and as Aisha knocked back her fifth strong drink—
“I’ve been noticing—you can really hold your liquor.”
“Part of the job,” she said.
She’d worried about her liver even before she died, and now here she was, doing it again after reincarnation. As Aisha gave a dry laugh at herself, the bartender smiled and said—
“Maybe that’s why.”
“Huh? Why what?”
“The sedative isn’t working well.”
“…Sedative?”
Wait.
Hold on.
Suddenly, her vision spun.
No.
Aisha tried desperately to stay conscious, but it was no use.
All she could hear was the bartender’s soft chuckle.
And before long—
She woke up in an unexpected place.
Tied up completely from head to toe.
