"You didn't notice at all?"
Esperanza asked in a displeased tone. The Count, who had realized the lady's identity, found his seat and sat down as he answered.
"I was rembering you in that trendous outfit, ah, please sit down."
"Was it really that trendous? Isn't it similar to what people here wear?"
"Not at all. This suits you much better. It was worth letting mother buy clothes that didn't even fit you."
The late forr Countess had been short and plump. She had wished for a tall and slender figure, but when it seed hopeless that she would ever beco that way, she used her overflowing wealth to satisfy herself vicariously by dressing mannequins or tall maids.
The Count thought his mother's hobby was quite unproductive, but since hobbies were that kind of thing by nature, he left it alone. Not everyone could have productive and progressive hobbies like himself.
"Weren't these clothes worn by the Countess?"
"No."
"I see......."
Having nothing to say, she just sipped her tea. She felt a bit more overwheld. After moistening her lips a little, since she had been told it suited her well, she decided to quickly get through what needed to be said. Fortunately, the Count seed to be in quite a generous mood. Though she didn't know what an ungenerous mood would look like.
"Um, I, this morning...... called a tailor. Mrs. Lux did."
No, she shouldn't say it like this. Mrs. Lux had been considerate for the guest's sake. So as soone who had received such kindness, she shouldn't use Mrs. Lux as an excuse.
"While I was having several dresses made, I think I spent your money, Count. I'll pay it back right away."
"Why?"
"Well......."
Why, he asks.
"Didn't Mrs. Lux give you sufficient explanation?"
"No, she explained sufficiently."
"Are you not very smart?"
"Probably not."
As if asking what the problem was then, the Count raised his eyebrows and sank his body carelessly into the chair. Sitting in the single-person chair, he looked considerably large and tall compared to the chair. His roughly tied blonde hair hung carelessly over his tightly fitted vest. Yet he had the strange ability to look as if a photographer had carefully angled him.
"You gave
that weapon, and I said I would take responsibility for your food, clothing, and shelter. Equivalent to a guest, that is, equivalent to a lady."
"I told you I'm not originally a lady."
"It's not your problem, it's mine."
Esperanza had played this ga for quite a long ti. In doing so, she had also clashed with nobles quite a lot. So she thought she was quite familiar with noble society, but Lord Avondale's words were completely incomprehensible. Of course, society after the monster crisis would inevitably be very different from society before it, but was it really sothing she couldn't adapt to like this?
"If you're my guest, you can't be below the gentleman class."
As it beca increasingly botherso, his explanations grew shorter too. Still, it was understandable. So the point was, it was a matter of dignity and face.
"And your weapon is quite useful."
"Should I give you so other weapons too?"
Esperanza, whose conscience was pricking her, quietly asked. He had bought her clothes, the tea was this delicious, and the room was nice too. Compared to the weapon's value, she was really, really overwheld.
"That would be nice. But for now, playing around with the scythe should be sufficient."
Was he thinking of modifying it rather than simply researching? For example, equipnt enhancent. When she brought monster byproducts to Dr. Sullivan, he would do such things. Blacksmiths did too. But there were no monster byproducts here.
"I'll show you later."
"Ah, thank you."
Only the sounds of drinking tea and chewing cookies could be heard. The Count, as if thinking about research even during break ti, occasionally moved his hands, then grabbed paper altogether and began busily writing sothing down. She glanced at it, but it wasn't sothing she could understand.
'I know the letters but I don't know what it ans.'
It was the sa thought she had when looking at Jack's terrible handwriting. The Count's handwriting wasn't terrible, but in terms of being incomprehensible, it was no different from terrible handwriting.
Such silence continued until the tea food was finished. Having nothing to do or say, she just ate.
'I ate it all.'
Esperanza, who had withdrawn her hand from the two remaining cookies, rolled her eyes and watched the Count's mood. The man who had made her spend a fortune probably wouldn't give her looks just for eating cookies, but that was that and this was this. She couldn't help but watch his mood.
Co to think of it, this man was also a magical engineer.
"Um, by any chance."
"Speak."
The man, still not taking his eyes off the paper, answered. It was doubtful whether he was even listening.
"Do you know a person called Dr. Sullivan? I have sothing to ask him, so I'm planning to visit him. I don't know if he lives in the sa place as 13 years later."
"Ask Howard."
When a curt answer ca back, Esperanza shrank her head. That was true though. It wasn't sothing worth asking the Count about.
"Ah, yes. I just thought you might know since you're both magical engineers."
"......What are you going to ask?"
Feeling awkward, Esperanza mumbled roughly, fixing her gaze on the little remaining tea water. She didn't even realize that the Count had put down his pen and raised his head.
"I found out sothing related to a way to return. I need to find an item, and since it's related to magic, I thought a magical engineer might know sothing."
"Sullivan?"
"Yes. He's about 60 years old. What was his na again. Albert?"
That's Einstein though. No wait, since it was obviously a character design borrowed from Einstein, the na might have been the sa too. Since she always just called him Dr. Sullivan, she couldn't quite rember his na.
"No? Alber?"
Hmm. Uuuum.
"Never mind the na."
"Ah, yes."
"I've never heard of such a guy."
"I see."
Since it's 13 years ago, maybe Dr. Sullivan wasn't very famous yet? 13 years later he was Nine Holder's greatest magical engineer though. Or is he really still a graduate student? But isn't he a bit old for that?
"He's probably a nobody."
The end of his words felt sharp. Esperanza blinked. Purple eyes reflected in the red teacup.
"Esperanza, you're saying you'd go find such a nobody to ask about magical engineering?"
He seed both angry and mocking.
"With
right in front of you?"
"Well, you see."
Esperanza desperately tried to think of excuses. But she really had never once thought about asking Count Avondale about the Golden Claw. So there was no way she could have anything to say.
"Since he's soone I've never heard of, he definitely doesn't have a single proper research result. Yet you, living in this Avondale mansion, were planning to go find such a guy to get advice about magical engineering?"
"That...... he's really a famous person 13 years later. I owed him so favors too. We didn't communicate well, but anyway, he was the most excellent magical engineer in Nine Holder!"
At those words, the Count chuckled.
"Who do you think is the most excellent magical engineer in Nine Holder right now?"
Esperanza opened her eyes wide and looked up at the Count. He pointed at himself with one finger and said quite lightly.
"Dr. Cider Rus Claiborne, Count Avondale, Viscount Glalily, Chair Professor at Osdern Royal Magical Engineering University, recipient of the Order of the Rusted Sword."
The problem, the really big problem was that Esperanza knew that na.
"That's you?"
Even Esperanza, who was indifferent to the worldview, couldn't help but know it. Whenever anything related to magical engineering ca up, that na would follow.
Magical engineering was a discipline that hadn't been born long ago. And Cider Claiborne was the very person who created the most commonly used technologies in magical engineering. Automatons, communication technology, spatial expansion technology, and so on—countless others.
It was a na that ca up in Dr. Sullivan's study, in the magical engineering section of the Royal Library, and even from the mouths of blacksmiths who dealt with magical weapons.
Moreover, Esperanza couldn't help but know it even more. The 'Order of the Rusted Sword' was a very valuable decoration given to about one person every 10 years, and the recipient after Dr. Claiborne was none other than Hunter Esperanza.
The arrogant expression with raised corners of his mouth suited him perfectly. The handso face that needed no customization was admirable even at tis like this. He nodded his fine chin and said.
"The words about
dying are finally starting to feel real. If I were alive, no one would dare designate soone else as the most excellent magical engineer in front of ."
Extrely arrogant, and it suited him as well as a perfectly tailored outfit. And if he really was Cider Rus Claiborne, he could be like that. She never dread that Claiborne and Count Avondale were the sa person.
"I thought he died of old age......."
Nobody had ntioned that he was young to the point of being almost childlike, had a noble title, and was handso. The world really is unfair. Since nobody ntioned it, she naturally thought of an elderly scholar.
"What a truly rude thought."
Esperanza startled, then narrowed her eyes and looked Cider up and down.
"Excuse , but Lord Avondale, how old are you?"
"Twenty-five."
Geniuses, really.
"When did you get your doctorate?"
"Five years ago. From then until now, there hasn't been a single mont when I wasn't the greatest magical engineer."
He seed quite hurt in his pride. Now she could understand that feeling a hundred tis over.
"You really were a genius."
She had thought the imaginary Dr. Claiborne with white hair and a bent back was also an amazing genius, but the real him was only twenty-five.
However, Cider only raised his eyebrows and was indifferent. Well, such praise would be as natural as breathing to him. Instead, he glared and replied curtly.
"That's right. And you have many prejudices."
"Where I lived, there were hardly any people who got doctorates at twenty."
"There are hardly any here either."
"Ah, I see. How amazing......."
She had nothing to say.
Actually, Esperanza's mind was quite complicated too. It was as if she had suddenly jumped through ti and ended up boarding at Isaac Newton's house. And in front of him, she had said she'd go find another physicist for consultation? She must have really gone crazy. Apologizing now would be worse than not doing it at all. But if she wanted to ask about the Golden Claw, she needed to start a conversation.
While she was reading the mood, the Count was imrsed in his own world. Propping his chin with one hand, his long fingers wrapped around the chair's armrest decoration and tapped it—tap, tap. He was so quiet he seed like he might turn into a portrait. He wouldn't tell her to leave, would he? He couldn't be that petty.
When her throat began to feel parched, he opened his mouth.
"The item you're looking for—is it related to 'ti'?"
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