"Old man, are you sure?" Leonard pretended to brush aside a strand of his hair, muttering under his breath.
"There's no mistake. That girl is one of your 'kind,' and the one parasitizing her isn't concealing herself very well… I just can't tell whether it's some half-informed wild Marauder demigod lacking common sense, or if Amon is deliberately casting bait." The aged voice of Pallez Zoroast echoed in his ear.
Leonard snorted softly, muttering, "If it were really Amon, would you even be talking to me right now?"
"Good—finally showing progress. Your analysis this time isn't bad." Pallez didn't get angry; instead, he chuckled, the dry sound filled with amusement. "At last, you've learned to use that brain of yours."
Leonard's lips twitched. He was sure the old man was mocking him in disguise.
"Try to get close to her. I need to confirm something." Pallez advised calmly.
"How am I supposed to approach her? What excuse am I supposed to use?" Leonard asked reflexively.
"There's a ball going on right now…" Pallez said helplessly, as though stating the obvious.
Leonard froze for a second, then glanced at the dance floor where Ebner Bryan had just finished a waltz with a socialite. Realization dawned. Straightening his collar and hair, Leonard walked directly toward Miss Emma, who was standing near the refreshment table.
Yes, he recognized her because he'd privately investigated Viscount Ebner Bryan before.
Halfway there, though, he felt a little puzzled—such a beautiful young lady, and no one had come to invite her for a dance?
"Miss Emma, may I have the honor of this dance?" Leonard asked, striking what he believed was a charming pose.
Emma gave him a brief glance, then turned her head away and said bluntly, "I don't dance with strange men."
"Eh?" Leonard's hand hung awkwardly in midair, and he froze, utterly bewildered.
…
Meanwhile, Ebner, who had just finished the opening dance, was mingling among the guests. Between polite conversations, he spoke about his plans for Belden City.
Unfortunately, most people seemed far more interested in his film company than in his grand "Belden City" project.
Still, that didn't disappoint Ebner. It doesn't matter, he thought with amusement. Investment in 'film' works just as well. Once the money's in my hands, I can spend it however I like.
After all, the film industry was still in its wild-growth stage—directors and producers were all company insiders, and every budget line went wherever he decided.
As long as eighty percent of the funds are used to build film sets in Belden, that's still technically "territorial development," isn't it?
Thus, while exchanging pleasantries and toasts, Ebner eventually reached a middle-aged man with black hair, brown eyes, sharply defined features, and the unmistakable look of a Loen native.
The man wore a silk top hat, his face slightly long, his demeanor cold but not unpleasantly so—more like the quiet depth of night.
"Mr. Patrick Bryan?" Ebner greeted with a courteous smile, raising his glass slightly.
"Good evening, Viscount Bryan… I'm Patrick," the man replied. He examined Ebner carefully for several seconds before sighing softly. "When I heard of the fame of the 'Hero Detective,' I used to tell my relatives that your accomplishments already matched my own… But now, I think I was far too arrogant."
Loen-style modesty—compliments disguised as self-deprecation, Ebner mused, smiling inwardly.
At this close distance, a portion of Patrick's River of Fate surfaced before his eyes. Ebner couldn't discern much detail, but he could at least confirm that the man was indeed a blood relative of his current body.
Maintaining his polite smile, Ebner began chatting with the demigod before him—the "experimental product" raised by the "Order of the Night"'s artificial Death faction—and deliberately steered the conversation toward "family matters."
After all, quietly extracting a demigod's blood was no simple task. Even though Patrick lacked much occult knowledge—and had once been called "immortal… idiot…" by Miss Messenger in the original timeline—Ebner had to tread carefully.
"My territory needs many capable hands for development," Ebner said with a friendly tone. "Could you perhaps recommend a few talented kinsmen? After all, one always trusts family most."
Patrick's face broke into a genuine smile, and he promptly recommended three young men with university educations.
"One is Nelrum, a graduate of Backlund Technical College, currently working at a construction firm.
Another is Beaton, a Tingen University history graduate—technically Mr. Klein's senior.
And the last one, Confer—his alma mater you probably haven't heard of—but his major suits your company perfectly: acting."
Patrick added frankly, "Confer is actually my illegitimate son. He doesn't bear the Bryan name, but he's a good actor, performed in several stage plays. Unfortunately, his birth kept him from ever being recognized."
Nelrum and Beaton should be fine—ordinary Bryans hoping to earn a future by following me. Mutually beneficial; let's call it selling their blood for opportunity.
But this Confer… most likely a Beyonder. Studying 'acting' to better master 'role-playing'? Heh, maybe Patrick brewed one potion too many and ended up with a 'bonus child.'
And given his lineage, he's probably a believer of the Death God… Patrick might want to spread faith in my territory through him.
On second thought, that's not necessarily bad. After all, before long, "Death" will simply be another face of the "Goddess." Worshipping Her under a different name doesn't matter much.
As Patrick's presence stirred faint ripples in his destiny, Ebner seized the chance to glimpse more tributaries of fate, several thoughts flashing rapidly through his mind.
After instructing Patrick to have the three young men report to him soon, Ebner moved past him, wineglass in hand, heading toward the Horatio family.
And just in time, he witnessed Leonard being flatly rejected.
Suppressing a laugh, Ebner quickened his pace. Between Leonard's odd behavior and Lyon's earlier warning, he was now certain there was something unusual about Emma.
…
In the past, to better play her "Swindler" persona, Emma often toyed with the men who invited her to dance, leaving them embarrassed in public. Over time, she gained a reputation for being "eccentric."
Back then, people only gossiped behind her back—never to her face.
But after the assassination of Duke Negan and her father's dismissal from office, those whispers became open ridicule. Her reputation had worsened, though she herself didn't seem to care.
Her mother, Lady Norma, however, cared very much.
So, when Emma curtly rejected Leonard's invitation, Lady Norma finally reached the limit of her patience and was about to scold her.
At that precise moment, Ebner's voice came politely from the side:
"Miss, may I have the honor of this dance?"
Emma's expression instantly brightened. She placed her champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter and replied gracefully, "It's my honor as well."
Her completely different attitude left Lady Norma astonished; she stared at Ebner in surprise for several moments.
Meanwhile, Leonard Mitchell, who hadn't gone far, felt a wave of indignation rise within him.
Come on! Ebner Bryan isn't even that much more handsome than me!
(End of Chapter)