Chapter 26: With a Hundred Thousand, You Might as Well Buy the Owner’s Life
Vivian let out a light snort through her nose, accepting the belated apology.
She could not even be bothered to say another word. She strode forward as if the cleaners who had just blocked her path were not feared enforcers of the Central Church, but rely a few inconvenient pillars.
Eve, however, had not spoken a single word from beginning to end. The parasol remained lowered as she followed soundlessly—the most perfect background presence imaginable.
Only at the mont she passed the captain, brushing shoulders, did the edge of the parasol tilt ever so slightly. A trace of red flickered from the corner of her eye as it swept briefly across him.
They passed one another.
“Captain…?”
He raised a hand to silence his subordinate. “Why are you looking at ? The Hatherin family crest. A woman. There are only two of them. Would you dare investigate?”
“They should not be the target. Search the vicinity again. That scent cannot be mistaken.”
…
The scene returned to the two of them. After walking more than a dozen steps and blending into the noisy crowd, Vivian turned her head toward Eve.
Eve had already raised the parasol back to its usual height, revealing her composed face.
“You handled that well, Young Miss,” Eve said calmly, though inwardly she had just exhaled in relief. “Sotis the family crest is more effective than any explanation.”
“Tch.” Vivian curled her lips disdainfully. She glanced back toward where the cleaners had disappeared, her voice full of contempt. “A few hounds of the Central Church, trying to lord it over . No wonder they all co from the sa place—they are just as detestable as the Church itself.”
Eve did not respond, rely nodding lightly to sustain the atmosphere and highlight Vivian’s victory, providing her with a modest amount of emotional satisfaction.
Suddenly, Vivian stopped in front of a tavern on the small plaza. Eve, who had assud they would continue walking, halted and quietly stepped back to her side.
Vivian raised a hand and pointed at the tavern’s sign. This ti, she did not declare her intent forcefully, but sought Eve’s opinion instead—a rare sight indeed.
“We will forget that Victoria place. I can go in here, can I not?”
She pursed her lips as she spoke, as though already anticipating an unsatisfactory answer.
Eve did not imdiately object. Instead, she asked calmly, “Young Miss is… how old this year?”
Vivian cut her off at once. “What are you implying? I am of age!”
She glared at Eve, as if deeply insulted.
Very well. Eve nodded.
Without looking back, Vivian walked inside. Only then did Eve finally put away the parasol and follow her in.
The interior was dimr than the street outside. The air was saturated with a potent scent of alcohol. Since it was dayti and the true battlefield of taverns belonged to the night, there were not many patrons, lending the place a certain quietness.
Several heavy wooden tables were sparsely occupied by idle n engaged in conversation or drinking alone.
Behind the bar stood a bartender with particularly thick arms, leisurely polishing a glass.
Eve and Vivian seated themselves on wooden high stools at the counter.
The bartender glanced at them without pausing his movents and let out a casual whistle. “Rare guests.”
Vivian had been examining the tavern’s décor. At his words, she turned and frowned. “What do you an?”
“I an that two ladies dressed like you must be from the outer districts, hm? Not a common sight in the Black Street.” He shook the shaker in his hand.
“What will it be? Small shop, but we have everything. Guaranteed to send you straight to heaven. Oh—this reminds
of Martin’s Mint, treasure of treasures. Trust , it is explosive.”
Vivian frowned at his overly familiar tone. Could he not be serious for once?
Before she could retort, Eve spoke first. “Two plum wines, low alcohol. Thank you.”
“Hey!” Vivian imdiately protested, turning to glare at Eve. “Who wants sothing so sweet? I might as well drink milk!”
Eve’s expression did not change. She tilted her head slightly and spoke in a low voice only Vivian could hear. “Young Miss, the plum wine here has a good reputation. You may try it first. If you do not like it, we can change it.”
Perhaps it was the matter-of-fact tone of her recomndation, but Vivian pressed her lips together and finally gave a reluctant huff.
“Very well. I will try it.”
The bartender let out an affirmative sound and added, “Excellent taste.” Soon, two glasses of plum wine garnished with mint leaves were placed before them.
Vivian picked up her glass and eyed it suspiciously before taking a careful sip.
First ca the fresh sweetness of plum fruit, followed by a faint hint of alcohol. It was not harsh at all. She blinked.
“Well?” Eve’s voice sounded beside her.
Vivian imdiately set the glass down and adopted a critical expression. “It is rely average. Not nearly as good as the vintage in our manor cellar.”
Stubborn as ever.
Eve did not expose her. She lifted her own glass and took a small sip.
Though the tavern was not crowded, the atmosphere was relaxed.
At a larger round table in the corner sat four or five n laughing loudly, erupting into cheers and frustrated groans.
“By God… let
win just once and I will quit.”
“Brother, you did not lose. I am rely keeping it safe for you temporarily. Say no more—you understand.”
“You damned bastard! I do not believe it. Again! Deal the cards!”
Vivian’s attention gradually drifted toward their table.
She had attended many banquets where wine flowed freely, yet every guest wore a flawless mask.
Here, the unrestrained laughter—even the crude language—felt real.
It was a place for drinking, yet the liveliness here held none of the hypocrisy she was accustod to.
Eve noticed Vivian’s gaze lingering on the card table. She glanced over as well and, after a mont’s thought, ford an idea.
Setting down her glass, she asked casually, “Young Miss… do you happen to have money on you?”
Vivian, who had been observing the table with interest, froze and turned to her in confusion. “What? Has my father been paying you so poorly?”
She lifted her chin. “Hmph. If you beg this Young Miss properly, I may graciously grant you a higher salary.”
“That is not it, Young Miss.” Eve shook her head. “My wages are sufficient. I rely wish to let you try sothing interesting—sothing you have likely not experienced before.”
She was hardly short of money. The issue was how much she carried. Their outing had been sudden, and most of her cash had already gone toward tolls.
“Sothing interesting?” Vivian’s curiosity was imdiately piqued.
What could possibly be sothing she had not tried?
“You need only bring a small amount of cash to find out,” Eve said in a deceptively calm tone. “I assure you, you will not be disappointed.”
Vivian crossed her arms and examined Eve from head to toe. After a mont’s hesitation, curiosity prevailed. “How much?”
“Two thousand—”
Before Eve could finish, Vivian had already opened her handbag, speaking offhandedly as she did so. “Is one hundred thousand enough? I did not bring much cash. I wonder whether they accept checks here?”
“…?”
One hundred thousand? A check?
Do you hear yourself?
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