Episode 3
“You need the certificate, right? …Ah, of course, we’ll guarantee the young lady’s secret with full responsibility on our end.”
The old man, pressing a black fedora tightly over his head, casually slid an envelope toward me across the dusty desk.
“Take it.”
It was a luxurious wine-colored envelope. I kept fiddling with the corner of it, unable to say a single word for what felt like over ten minutes.
Well…
‘This is so awkward I could die!’
This was my first time doing a deal like this.
Fortunately, more than half of my face was hidden behind a black veil, so only the pale nape of my neck was vaguely visible.
My tense expression wasn’t immediately obvious at a glance.
Maybe I was too nervous. The cherry-red lips peeking out slightly under the veil trembled faintly.
Suddenly, a pale white arm slipped out from under the cloak.
In frustration, I had yanked off my black lace gloves.
I tapped lightly on the table with my now-cool left hand.
The gesture could be interpreted two ways:
Either I was interested, or I wasn’t interested at all.
Either way, it was a silent nudge.
A signal to hurry up and finish the deal.
Soon after, his eyes landed on the back of my white hand.
The flawless skin of someone who had never experienced hardship, fingers elegantly long and straight.
Just beneath it, the exposed wrist looked so fragile, it seemed like it might snap with the slightest pressure.
‘It’s not like I took off my gloves for him to stare at my hand.’
He tilted his head, trying to get a better look at my face, but maybe sensing a sharp glare from me, he awkwardly scratched at the few remaining strands on the top of his head.
“Ahem. As you know, each sponsorship certificate is one gold coin.”
A sponsorship certificate.
A transaction token required before entering the Sponsorship Hall.
I had come today to secretly extract Noah from the black market, disguised as a sponsorship hall. So I had to purchase as many of those as possible.
The more I had, the better chance I had of claiming him as a sponsor.
I took the thick envelope he handed me and placed a heavy leather pouch gently into his hand.
It was filled with gold coins.
“An excellent choice. We’ve curated a wide selection, from abandoned elf children to beastkin—tailored to the various tastes of our patrons. Oh, of course, we also have regular humans.”
“……”
“If there’s a particular child you’re looking for, we can certainly look into it for you.”
He rambled on with meaningless chatter.
Apparently, wolf beastkin were all the rage these days, and half-elves were quicker learners than pureblooded elves.
Eager to end the conversation quickly, I—
BANG!
—kicked my leg under the table.
Clatter!
A small flowerpot on the table toppled over and fell with a crash.
Soaked by the water from the pot, the man stared at me with a blank look.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry. A bug crawled under the table and startled me…”
Of course, that was a blatant lie.
“A-Ah, it’s alright…”
The old man stammered, flustered.
I offered him a faint smile.
“Come to think of it, the charity party should be starting soon.”
I handed him a handkerchief I had been carrying.
“Would you like to use this?”
“W-Wait just a moment…”
Drip, drip…
As he stood up, water trickled down the hem of his trousers.
There was far too much water for just one flimsy handkerchief to handle.
That had been the plan all along.
“Shall I help you?”
His face twisted with frustration, his wrinkles turning red.
A look that screamed:
‘If only you weren’t a noble…’
‘Oh, really now?’
I simply shrugged and grabbed my bag.
“Please send the bill for your clothes to House Benestra.”
“…Benestra?”
His complexion turned deathly pale as the name hit him.
“W-Wait!”
I could hear his desperate voice calling after me, but it was already too late.
“Oh, and no need to return the handkerchief.”
No matter how advanced magic had become, there wasn’t a single spell in the world that could reverse time.
I was in a foul mood. Extremely foul.
“That old man must be senile.”
I could still feel his leering, sticky gaze.
Even though there was no physical contact, his eyes had clearly been predatory.
This is why age alone doesn’t earn respect.
Most people like him had aged through their rear ends, not their minds.
“Witch.”
“…Verified.”
The charity party was operated in secrecy and with utmost caution.
The nobles who attended it usually fell into one of two categories:
Infertile or subfertile.
It wasn’t a crime not to have children, but society was far from kind to such couples.
Especially the younger ones—the scrutiny was brutal.
To protect the patrons’ identities, the event’s password changed every week and was written on the back of the sponsorship certificate.
‘Witch’.
At first glance, the back of the certificate looked blank, but when wiped with alcohol, the writing would appear.
Troublesome, yes, but that’s exactly why I had to meet that old man and buy the certificate.
One gold per certificate.
Ten certificates, ten gold. A hundred certificates, a hundred gold.
A thousand? Rare, but it did happen sometimes.
‘Let’s hope I don’t need to go that far.’
Rustle.
My eyes fell on the edge of the paper in my hand.
Just in case, I had bought every certificate I could get my hands on.
The hall was already packed with nobles—each hoping to adopt a child with either good health or a bright mind.
‘How many people are crammed into this tiny place?’
Sigh…
Seeing the crowd made me dizzy.
I looked up and saw the familiar green ceiling.
Nobles had such strange tastes.
How could that overcooked spinach color be a symbol of wealth and luxury?
‘Then again, it’s the symbolic color of House Benestra too.’
Honestly, I was skeptical until I picked up those gold coins in the flower garden. But after that, I could personally confirm just how disgustingly rich they were.
Maybe that’s why green became a color of envy.
Still, even with good intentions, going all green was overkill.
My room was also drenched in that same spinach shade. I really needed to redecorate sometime.
The people in the hall were busy laughing and chatting in groups.
Most were couples, though a few in suits seemed to be from orphanages or child welfare facilities.
Probably here to boost their institution’s reputation through sponsorship.
Positive publicity was always good for business.
I seemed to be the only noble lady who came here alone.
While I was glancing around, the deep red curtain lifted and a man in a navy and white striped suit stepped forward and bowed toward the crowd.
“We thank all our distinguished guests for attending today’s charity party.”
His smooth voice echoed through the now-quiet hall.
“There are 11 children awaiting sponsorship today. As always, the highest offer will determine the adoption.”
He went on to explain the rules.
The relationship between guardian and sponsor is defined as parent or legal representative.
Any unilateral cancellation without consent is strictly prohibited.
The guardian bears full responsibility for the child’s health and medical needs.
“And the eighth rule…”
Since I had already learned the rules from the game, I half-listened, letting the words flow in one ear and out the other.
They called it “charity,” but in truth, it was no different from a circus.
Looking around, I spotted a few other young noble ladies around my age. Each had veils or masks to hide their identity.
Most guardians were women, though a few men stood out.
And on the opposite side of the hall, one man stood out even more.
Wearing a fox mask with white feathers and towering above the rest, his intense aura made him hard to ignore.
Something about him felt familiar. I tilted my head for a moment, but then quickly refocused my attention on the stage.
Because the first child to step onto it was none other than Noah.
{System: New Event Triggered! First Encounter with “Noah Iosif”}
“The first child is… a half-elf.”
Thin wrists and sunken, ashen black eyes.
Eyes so hollow, they held not even a speck of hope.
Had he lived a hard life at the orphanage?
His frail limbs looked ready to collapse at any moment.
His appearance was far more pitiful than I had imagined.
The audience stirred uncomfortably.
Bringing a child that emaciated to a charity event was essentially self-sabotage for the organizers.
“Oh my, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.”
“Poor thing.”
The nobles whispered, their voices growing louder.
Half-elves were born between humans and elves. They were typically quick learners, especially of languages, which made teaching them human speech easier.
But they had one fatal flaw: unlike elves, they were born without mana.
Which meant they were essentially just pretty but flawed humans.
Still, despite his sickly and unattractive appearance, no one stepped forward to sponsor him.
He was the first child presented.
Basically, a throwaway.
Like a light appetizer before the main course in a multi-course meal, charity events followed a similar strategy.
Better children would surely come later.
And most of the nobles here were hoping to adopt children with traits they lacked—health, beauty, intelligence.
But Noah… was far from their ideal.
“He has no particular talents, but he speaks Imperial, Elvish, and Beastkin tongues. He’s a kind and gentle child.”
Normally, children would promote themselves to be adopted.
But Noah seemed completely uninterested in the process.
The host read out his profile on his behalf.
“We will begin bidding at five certificates.”
Five gold coins. Not a bad start.
The first bid usually sets the pace.
A form of intimidation.
After all, I had to get him out of here no matter what.
Now was the perfect moment—when no one else was paying attention.
A smile crept across my face.
They didn’t know his true value.
To be exact—he was a mutation.
Unlike other half-elves, he could use mana.
Each elf’s mana was different, and his was unusually explosive and violent in nature.
If properly harnessed, it could destroy half the Empire.
“50 certificates.”
“Fifty! We have fifty!”
As expected.
By starting high, I discouraged the others. Most didn’t even try to compete.
Who would give up a steak for boiled beans?
Especially at the price of 50 gold.
No one sane would outbid me for a sickly, scrawny kid like him.
Relieved, I let out a small sigh.
Unless something unexpected happened, I’d get him soon enough.
Though the reward was still uncertain, it was coming.
“Any other bids?”
Probably not.
He looked like a starving beggar.
But they were overlooking something important.
If Yuria was the most beautiful girl in the story, then Noah was the most handsome boy.
At least, in my opinion.
‘Once he’s washed, treated, and dressed properly, anyone standing next to him will look like a two-legged squid.’
Just as I was thinking that—
A soft voice rang out from not far away.
“60 certificates.”
