Clara stepped forward first and greeted a dwarf sitting behind a thick wooden table littered with empty bottles and iron tools. His thick beard was messy, his face flushed, and the smell of alcohol could be sensed even from several steps away.
"Good afternoon," Clara said politely. "I'm Clara, Minister of the Department of External Relations. We'd like to request sponsorship for an upcoming academy festival."
The dwarf lifted his head, half-conscious.
"Money?" he muttered with a chuckle. "I don't have any money."
I immediately stepped forward.
"Don't lie. A few days ago, I bought a sword from you for fifty thousand Orialis."
"You?" the dwarf squinted. "I don't remember. And I still don't have any money."
I drew the sword from its sheath and placed it on the table.
"This is your sword, right? Look at the engraving on the blade. It's the same as the others you make."
The dwarf glanced at it briefly, then snorted.
"Yeah, that's my sword. But like I said, I don't have any money."
He took another swig of his drink, clearly uninterested.
"Actually," I continued casually, "I used this sword in a duel yesterday. But your sword overheated when it was hit by fire, so I was forced to fight bare-handed."
No reaction.
"If you don't give me sponsorship," I said quietly, "I'll spread the word that you're a foolish blacksmith who uses cheap iron hilts—so bad that the sword heats up from just a bit of fire."
Bang.
He slammed his glass onto the table.
"You bastard! Are you insulting my sword? Even if the hilt is iron, I made it specially to be fire-resistant!"
"Fire-resistant?" I replied calmly. "That sword got extremely hot when I fought a third-stage Radiant fire user."
"That's a lie!" he shouted. "That sword can withstand even fourth-stage Radiant flames! Stop making things up. I don't have money. Get out of my shop!"
"Then," I said flatly, "I'll ruin the reputation of your swords."
"I don't care!"
"Oh, really?" I smiled faintly. "Let's see how long you won't care when not a single customer comes by… and you can't even buy beer anymore."
"You—!" The dwarf stood up, face red with rage. "I told you, I don't have money! A lot of customers owe me!"
"Stop making excuses."
Fuming, he yanked open a drawer and pulled out a dusty ledger.
"See for yourself! I'm not lying!"
I looked at the book—packed with debt notes.
"The fruit merchant across the street," he said, pointing roughly. "He owes me fifteen thousand Orialis. If you can collect it, the money's yours."
I nodded.
"Alright. May I borrow the ledger for a moment?"
The dwarf sneered and handed it over.
"Go. And don't bother me again."
I turned to leave. Clara gave the dwarf a light bow and followed me.
"Junior… sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't help much."
"It's fine, Senior," I replied. "Actually, this time I need your help."
"Really?" she asked, surprised.
I whispered something into her ear. Clara's eyes widened slightly, then she nodded and left with a few others.
…
"Well?" Austin laughed when he saw me leave the dwarf's shop empty-handed.
"Failed?"
"Not yet," I replied calmly. "The show's just getting started."
I crossed the street. Several curious students followed behind.
I stopped in front of a fruit shop. A burly man stood there, splitting a watermelon in half with a single swing of a large knife.
"Want some fruit?" he asked gruffly.
"I don't want fruit," I said with a smile. "I want money."
He wiped the knife with a cloth, his gaze threatening.
"What do you want?"
"I'm a new employee from that shop," I said, pointing toward the dwarf's store. "My boss told me to collect twenty thousand Orialis of debt from you."
"Since when does that dwarf have employees?" he grumbled.
"That's not important," I replied casually. "How about the twenty thousand Orialis?"
"I don't owe that much!"
"I don't care. That's what my boss said."
He glanced at the crowd behind me.
"Who are they?"
"My friends," I said, taking a slice of watermelon and eating it.
"If you don't pay, I'll have them take fruit worth twenty thousand Orialis."
His expression hardened. He went into the back of the shop and returned with a piece of paper.
"Look. I only owe fifteen thousand Orialis. That stupid dwarf must've been drunk."
In an instant, the paper landed in my hand.
"Ah," I said after reading it, "sorry. My boss did say fifteen thousand. Please pay now."
"You dare trick me?!" the man shouted, raising his knife.
"That's right, hurry up and return the money!"
From behind, several students voiced their support.
"What if I don't pay?!" he yelled angrily, brandishing the knife. "If you've got the guts, step forward! Let's see whether you get money—or pain!"
"Why are there so many people here?" another voice interrupted.
A city guard approached from behind. His face frowned when he saw the fruit merchant. Clara stood behind him and winked at me. I returned it with a small smile.
"I received a report that you're causing trouble here," the guard said. "Stop this immediately, or your shop won't be allowed to operate."
The man was reprimanded. Before I could even show the debt proof to the guard, he realized the situation, hurriedly stopped me, and handed over fifteen thousand Orialis.
…
I returned to the dwarf's shop. The dwarf looked shocked when I brought back the money.
"I didn't think you'd actually collect it…"
I pulled the money back the moment he tried to take it.
"According to our agreement, this is mine."
"I can give you two thousand as a reward," he said quickly. "But fifteen thousand is too much."
"Junior," Clara said gently, "he has a point. With just two thousand, you've already won."
I fell silent for a moment. My competitive spirit wanted a total victory, but after thinking it over, I handed thirteen thousand Orialis to the dwarf.
"Consider it my generosity for today."
Clara and I returned with two thousand Orialis. Some students cheered at my victory, while the two losers looked gloomy and quickly left the scene.
"Lucian, right?"
From the middle of the crowd, a man stepped forward with a wide smile.
"I didn't expect such an impressive performance—and you became Vice Minister of External Relations just like that."
"I was just lucky," I replied with a friendly smile. "It was also thanks to everyone's support."
"Hey, don't forget us if you really become Vice Minister!" someone shouted.
Praise came pouring in from all directions. I responded to each one calmly, keeping a smile on my face.
"Lucian."
I turned when the man who first praised me grabbed my shoulder. His tone grew serious.
"I'm not here just to praise you. Her Highness Charlotte wants to meet you."
Hearing that name, my expression hardened immediately. I nodded briefly. Guided by the young man, I left the crowd.
We headed toward the city center—to a grand mansion standing elegantly among elite buildings. The iron gates slowly opened, and I was led through a long corridor into a spacious garden.
Charlotte was waiting there.
She sat gracefully at a white garden table, sipping tea from a porcelain cup. The afternoon light shone on her hair, her expression calm—almost too calm.
I stepped forward and sat in the chair across from her.
Charlotte carefully set her cup down and looked at me.
"First of all," she said softly, "I want to thank you. Because of you, I can now spend two hours every day with Alfred."
She let out a faint sigh.
"That duel forced him to maintain what little image he has left. Even so… I'm not sure how long it will last."
Her gaze lowered briefly, then returned to me.
"Second," she continued, her voice gentler, "I want to apologize."
She paused, as if choosing her words.
"I'm the reason you were expelled from the Valkaryn family."