Chapter 51

Clunk.

Einar set down his empty glass and let out a faint sigh.

Riina wouldn’t refuse if he needed help, and if necessary, she would use him as much as she needed.

But what if he offered to stay by her side and help indefinitely, until Emperor Smith’s harassment and obsession ended?

“Not necessary.”

Her dry and calm response, though unheard, rang clearly as it escaped his lips.

Feeling an inexplicable burning in his throat, he fumbled for the rum bottle.

“Huh.”

Was it the cheap rum he had just gulped down straight from the bottle?

His mouth felt indescribably bitter.

Frowning, Einar filled his glass with gin instead of rum this time.

“If we all die like this, will that make you feel better?!”

Someone, either excited or angry or perhaps both, climbed onto a chair, raised their glass high, and shouted loudly.

“That’s right! We should protest to the Empire!”

“At this rate, we’ll all really die!”

Voices agreeing with him were heard from here and there, followed by a barrage of expletives that were to be expected.

“The Empire, those damn…”

“Those dog-like…”

Amidst the unspeakable curses flying towards the Empire, Einar observed them with his head tilted askew.

Most were drunk, babbling without knowing what they were saying, but among them were some suspicious individuals different from those who were merely lamenting.

“Come on, let it all out. Keeping it inside will only fester.”

At first glance, it seemed like words of encouragement for the merchants struggling with the fees.

But from another perspective…

“What does the Empire think it is! Even if it’s the Empire, isn’t this too much?!”

It was also inciting anti-imperial sentiment among foreign merchants.

Some might wonder what the big deal is about a few merchants expressing dissatisfaction with the Empire.

“That’s right! No matter what, they can’t pressure us and strangle us like this!”

Another bout of incitement painted clear anger on people’s faces.

“That’s right!”

“Say more! More!”

“Drink!”

Einar keenly observed not the stumbling drunk merchants and their supporters, but those who pretended to be drunk while moving around and whispering.

Of course, Einar blended in with the merchants, drinking alcohol like water and occasionally showing loud agreement, avoiding drawing attention to himself from those he was observing.

“Do you know who that person is?”

“Huh? I don’t know? All I know is that this alcohol tastes good!”

Someone who had just come to Einar’s table and expounded on the Empire’s evil asked who he was, but the only answer was indifference.

Indeed. This is clearly more than a simple trade negotiation.

“These damned Imperial bastards!”

None of those shouting drunkenly would remember everything they said today.

But the resentment towards the Empire, settled like sediment deep inside, would remain.

And that resentment would spread like a plague from these people to others.

Unlike merchants who wander the world, most people are born, raised, and die in one place.

So the only outside news they can access is mostly from the merchants’ voices.

If so, it’s easy to see how much influence the merchants’ words can have in creating a wave among people.

“Do they think we like crawling and watching the Empire’s every move?!”

The anger towards the Empire escalated, and those fanning the flames grew the sparks.

This isn’t a plot to see immediate effects.

It’s a strategy to erode the Empire over time and define it as a common enemy to lead to an alliance of other countries.

Come to think of it…

Einar rubbed his forehead and side, recalling Riina’s casual remark.

‘Yes. I’ve done such simple treatments many times in the borderlands.’

Of course, even now, the border isn’t so peaceful that it makes one yawn.

Occasionally, local fights break out, but they’re just minor scuffles, barely worthy of being called battles.

But a ‘conflict’?

“One that would even pique Smith’s interest?”

It might not be a battle between nations, but it certainly wouldn’t be a small dispute either.

“Shall I try to trace where it all started?”

Einar watched leisurely as alcohol consumed people and others further encouraged them, wearing a chilling smile.

* * *

Even under the Empire’s sky, where new people were creating new scenes, there were exceptions.

“I don’t plan to go anywhere for a while.”

Lione Bartorio, looking visibly tired, sighed as he ran a hand over his face.

He was facing a long-time friend.

Having heard about the accident at a certain marquis’s tea party, his friend shook his head and spoke.

“It must have been tough.”

In response to the sympathetic comfort, Lione exhaled deeply and replied.

“I caused great trouble for Lady Bolshevik.”

Hearing this answer, his friend stared at Lione for a while and reached out his hand, but then withdrew it.

After some silence, his friend sighed lightly and expressed his true feelings.

“I’m worried about you, Lione.”

At his friend’s serious words, Lione smiled and picked up his teacup.

“It’s already past, and I’ve managed to clean it up somehow, so let’s put it aside for now. Rather…”

Lione naturally brewed the tea his friend enjoyed and asked,

“How’s it going?”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. Are you still shy about it?”

When his friend didn’t answer, Lione laughed and patted his shoulder.

“I don’t understand why you’re so embarrassed about having feelings for someone.”

Despite Lione’s playful words, his friend merely maintained a faint smile without opening his mouth.

“So there’s been no progress.”

Lione looked at his friend for a moment, then nodded and pulled out a small box from his chest.

“It’s a gift.”

“A gift?”

Seeing his friend’s puzzled face, Lione laughed and patted his shoulder.

“A gift for your secret someone.”

“Ah…”

“Start with a small gift. I chose something neutral since you won’t tell me what they like, but you have to start somewhere.”

At Lione’s sincere advice, his friend sighed briefly while fiddling with the corners of the gift box.

Seeing that sigh as a reflection of his friend’s heart, Lione encouraged him once more.

“Have courage.”

He sincerely wanted to help this friend who was no better than a blockhead.

Many people had confided their love troubles to Lione and sought his opinion.

Perhaps it was because of the nickname “everyone’s lover,” which he never wanted.

‘Should I call it first love…’

‘I have a lover, but it doesn’t matter because I can love more…’

‘I think she’s cheating on me.’

He had listened to all sorts of love stories and people, giving them the answers they wanted to hear.

But this was the first time he wanted to help someone so earnestly.

This friend was the first to stand firmly by his side for such a long time, even on days that were never calm.

It wasn’t that Lione, around whom people gathered even when he didn’t want them to, had no friends.

But…

‘I love you.’

‘I want to be more than friends.’

‘Don’t just call us friends as you please!’

Without exception, all those he considered friends demanded Lione’s love.

Lione loved them too.

Just not in the same way they did.

He tried his best not to lose the friends he had given his heart to, but the result was always the same.

Exhausted, Lione stopped making friends for a while.

No, he avoided relationships with people altogether.

But the more he turned away…

‘Look at me! Look at me!’

‘Someone like me who you don’t see is unnecessary.’

‘Who is it, who are you looking at?!’

The one-sided love of those surrounding him… became an uncontrollable violence, leaving a fierce aftermath not just for him but for others as well.

That’s why this friend, the last one remaining who loved someone other than Lione, was probably a precious existence to him.

Lione spoke to his friend, who still wasn’t answering.

“I don’t know how long you’ll keep it a secret, but let me know if there’s any good news.”

“Are you leaving?”

Only when Lione was about to get up did his friend open his mouth.

“Yes. Something I want to try came up.”

Leaving only these enigmatic words, Lione departed briskly.

The eyes of his friend, watching Lione walk away, sank deeply.

He traced Lione’s trajectory and then shook the small gift box Lione had handed him.

Perhaps this gift would never be delivered to his ‘someone’.

How could one send a gift to a non-existent person?

Where Lione couldn’t see, his friend was wearing a sardonic smile.

* * *

Around the time Lione was patting his friend’s shoulder and shaking his head…

In the street where blacksmiths gathered on the outskirts of the capital.

Bang!

Clang!

Hissss.

Amidst the mix of hammer blows that threatened to detach one’s ears, bellows work, and the sound of cooling hot iron…

Clang!

“Haa.”

Clang!

“Huu.”

Clang!

“Huuuu.”

In the center of the massive smithy, the sound of hammering and sighing alternated regularly.

Finally, veins bulged on the forehead of the blacksmith striking the heated iron.