The next thing Amara knew, Ethan was on his feet. A dark, undeniably furious expression twisted his usually aloof features. Issabel's hair began to float gracefully around her, her hands emitting a luminous red glow. Her eyes widened, her smile frozen in place. Elliot, too, was clearly unhappy with the news.
"What?" Ethan's calm voice belied the chilling look he wore, but Amara met his gaze calmly, clearly unbothered. "I believe I was poisoned the day before the trip to Hadelia for the conference." Now it was Issabel's turn to stand abruptly. "WHAT!?"
Elliot slammed his hand on the table, making the other two flinch. "Sit down. Let's hear Eleany out." He then turned his concerned gaze back to Amara. "How are you? Is there still poison in your system?" Amara sweatdropped slightly. "I'm okay now; I think the poison has worn off. I suddenly came down with a terrible cold before the trip, which must have given Heisenberg a chance to take Christine with him to Hadelia."
Issabel covered her mouth, tears threatening to spill. The two men, meanwhile, looked down in shame, causing Amara to raise a brow. 'Wait a damn minute... Have they known about the affair for this long?! "When?" The three turned back to her, their eyes filled with guilt. Amara could only feel her eye twitch at this twist, her blood pressure beginning to rise.
"SINCE FUCKING WHEN?" It was now her turn to leap to her feet, the siblings flinching at the sudden volume of her voice, clearly unaccustomed to Eleanor yelling, let alone cursing. "S-since after our graduation from the Academy," Issabel managed, making Amara's irritation spike. 'THAT FUCKING LONG?!' She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes in distaste. With an extremely heavy sigh, she slowly sank back into her seat.
[ Calm down, Miss Amara. We can't have you losing your composure now; everything you do will have a butterfly effect. ]
'Does that shit really matter now? I'm fucking pissed, and besides, me being here is a butterfly effect enough!'
The silence in the room was deafening. Gathering his courage, Elliot spoke in a slightly quivering tone. "We told him to stop it before you found out, but we haven't been able to keep an eye on him since we've been traveling to different kingdoms for business."
"And you didn't think to fucking tell me as soon as you found out? And you call yourselves friends of mine..." If Amara's calculations were correct, the affair had been going on since their time at the Academy, almost two years ago. Eleanor had been dating a fucking cheater for the past two years! "You were going to let me go through with an engagement to a fucking two-timing bastard for that long?"
The Patriela siblings felt the blood drain from their faces. Eleanor was considered kind and pure; hearing her curse for the first time truly flabbergasted them. "We warned him when we were about to leave, and he promised us he'd tell you. We tried to contact him again, but he's been blocking his mana device for a long time," Ethan finally said, his gaze fixed guiltily on the food before him.
Amara frowned deeply, then closed her eyes in thought after a moment. The siblings waited patiently for her, their nerves jittery, stomachs churning with anxiety. They had never seen Eleanor angry before; this was a first.
Amara let out a heavy sigh, and the siblings perked up. A while had passed since she'd fallen into her brooding thoughts. "I don't know how to forgive any of you." After some thought, Amara concluded that Eleanor must have been a truly forgiving person, even a pushover. But Amara couldn't afford to act like her; she hated catering to other people and despised those who took advantage of it.
She didn't know how to view Eleanor's friends; her connection with them is basically a hanging thread. The only thing they were to her was a stepping stone. With this information, if they feel sorry enough, they'll testify in her case.
"But the least you could do for me is testify in my case at the trial." Almost immediately, the three answered yes with glee, desperate to win her favor again. Amara lazily nodded, mentally exhausted. "Uhm, Eleany...?" Amara perked up at Ethan's soft voice, looking at him with a raised brow. "What about the poisoning? Have you already gathered solid evidence for it?"
Now that got Amara thinking again. "We can help you, Eleany! You can leave this to us!" Issabel eagerly offered, but Amara immediately turned it down. "There will be no need for that. I'll handle it on my own, but I'd greatly appreciate it if you could gather intel about a certain someone." Amara vowed to lead a lazy, good life, but she still needed connections with the dangerous people around here.
"Who will it be?" Elliot asked. Amara glanced at him but then looked back at the food in front of her. "Tell me where I can meet Mister Poisonous."
Cliche name, but if Amara remembered correctly, this mysterious guy was supposedly the one who sold the poison to Eleanor to use against Christine. The novel briefly mentioned that this man was high class and primarily sold his goods to nobles. It didn't matter if they were a commoner or held high power; as long as they had gold, he'd offer his services.
In Amara's conclusion, this guy was someone who ingratiated himself with wealthy people. But building the reputation of "Mister Poisonous" must have meant something; his bottles of liquids were immaculate. One of his long-standing rules was that he would never, ever interfere with his customers' businesses. All he did was sell, get money, and they were out of his hair.
With the Crown Prince at the apex of power, Amara had never been so certain that Mister Poisonous would offer his services to that wretched royal. She needed to bargain with him, and the only way to do that was to offer him a substantial sum of money. Amara didn't doubt the Dukedom's wealth, but she couldn't bring herself to waste the Duke's funds; a sense of shame lingered, and as a workaholic, she prided herself on earning her own way.
As she formulated a plan in her mind to earn money, she flinched at the sudden, loud bang of the table. "Why do you need to meet him?" Elliot asked, his brows furrowing deeply. Amara met his gaze with a challenging glare. "I have business with him, and he will surely offer me significant assistance with my trial."
"We can't have you getting involved with some puny criminal!" Elliot retorted, causing Amara to groan. "So, are you helping or not?" Elliot was left stunned. "What?"
"Are you going to help me find him or not?" Amara repeated, her irritated tone evident. "If not, then spare yourselves the effort, because I don't need your moral lectures." Silence fell in the dining room. "We'll provide the intel tomorrow," Ethan stated, his determined tone alarming the twins. "Ethan, you can't possibly be—!"
"What Eleany wants, Eleany gets!" Ethan retorted, "This is the least we can do for her! We've been keeping her in the shadows; it's about time she sees what's truly out there!"
"You're putting her in danger because of your pettiness towards the Prince!" As the siblings argued, their voices grew louder with each exchange. Amara felt a bulging tick mark on her cheek. 'These motherfuckers...'
Nonchalantly, Amara picked up the table knife, her grip firm. She closed one eye, aiming at the roasted turkey positioned in the center of the table, a silent target amidst the siblings' heated argument.
As if practicing darts, she threw the knife with precision. The sharp object sliced through the tense air, embedding itself in the turkey's belly. The siblings visibly flinched as the flying knife landed, their heads snapping towards Amara. They met her chilling glare, a stark yet somehow perfect contrast to her otherwise cute features.
"Enough," Amara interrupted, her voice cutting through their bickering. "Especially the part where you treat me like an infant. I can manage this on my own. You two handle your own business." Silence followed her pronouncement, Elliot's gaze fixed on his plate, a frown etched on his face.
"Expect my visit tomorrow, Eleany," Ethan announced, striking a pose with a hand over his heart. "I won't let you down!" A sweet smile bloomed on Amara's face. 'Finally. Someone who doesn't dissect my every move. Perfect for an alliance. And... definitely a simp.'
Jackpot. A grin bloomed on her face, and Ethan visibly melted. "Thank you, Ethan," she said, her voice laced with what sounded like genuine appreciation. "You're so dependable!" She clasped her hands together, showering him with compliments. Ethan's usual aloofness cracked, a delighted flush spreading across his features, akin to a dog receiving a treat.
—
Breakfast ended with a truce, Elliot and Issabel offering apologies for their earlier behavior and resistance. They also made sure to mention their plans to join Ethan at the Manor tomorrow, a detail Amara didn't overlook. 'Looks like Eleanor has quite the possessive little entourage.'
She intended to use this to her advantage, fully aware that interacting with the three was a gamble. However, she believed the risk was worthwhile; they were clearly quite smitten with Eleanor. She watched the Patriela carriage depart, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Catching her reflection in the nearby window, a playful expression bloomed on her face. "I'll never tire of seeing Eleanor's face," she murmured, giggling softly as she re-entered the Manor.
Amara was met by the sight of Sasha practically tumbling towards her, breathless. "My Lady! You summoned me?" Amara's gaze lingered on the glistening trails of sweat on Sasha's brow as she smoothly extracted a handkerchief from a hidden seam in her gown. With a gentle hand, she began to dab at Sasha's face, a gesture that clearly startled the maid. Sasha flinched, her body tensing, and she stammered, "P-please, My Lady, don't concern yourself with my discomfort!"
Amara's chuckle was soft, yet held a note of something unreadable. "Clearly you exerted yourself. My apologies." Sasha's response was immediate. "Not at all, My Lady! What can I do for you?" Amara deliberately slowed her movements as she wiped Sasha's face, her gaze perhaps a little too intense. "I need to recall something. Our conversation earlier, about the possibility of poisoning within these walls. Who was the maid who served my tea that day?"
A flicker of recognition crossed Sasha's features. "It was one of Lady Christine's own maids." Amara's eyebrows rose fractionally, a silent alarm bell ringing in her mind. Christine's maids? This was a significant detail. Amara turned abruptly, her thoughts already swirling. Sasha, momentarily taken aback by the perceived dismissal, quickly recovered and trailed after her mistress.
Something is definitely amiss here, a viper lurking beneath the surface of these seemingly loyal servants. A frown, stark against Eleanor's usually serene features, betrayed her growing suspicion. 'It's time to excise these leeches from this household.' Her mind was certain: someone was orchestrating these events, pulling strings from the shadows. The Crown Prince was merely a convenient tool, an opportunity seized to strike at Eleanor.
That maid held the key to unlocking Amara's questions. She will reveal the truth, one way or another. But a more advantageous plan was already forming, one that would not only yield answers but also elevate her standing within the Empire, drawing powerful allies to her side.
Amara's voice finally broke the silence, a clear command. "Bring me stacks of paper and ink. And some tea, please. Lead me to the Library." Sasha responded instantly, "Yes, My Lady."
Sasha guided Amara to the Library, its marble walls gleaming, the gold decorations radiating an opulent elegance. The maid strained as she pushed open the heavy door, a soft grunt escaping her lips. The sight within was breathtaking: towering shelves that seemed to stretch endlessly, the comforting, aged scent of countless stories enveloping Amara like a warm embrace.'Ah, the exquisite perks of wealth!'
"I'll fetch your requests, My Lady." Amara waved a dismissive hand, her attention already lost in the sheer volume of the gathered books. She moved gracefully down an aisle, the lingering, comforting aroma drawing her in. Her fingers trailed lightly over the spines of each book as she walked, searching for a promising collection of papers to occupy her thoughts.
Before long, a substantial stack of books rested in her arms, a genuine smile illuminating her face. She settled at a nearby table, the heavy tomes landing with a soft thump and a puff of displaced air. Spreading the books across the tabletop, she regarded each one with keen interest. The quiet of the Library was soon punctuated by the rattling approach of a trolley as the door creaked open once more.
Sasha arrived at Amara's side, bearing a neat stack of paper, an elegant inkwell accompanied by a fountain pen, and the comforting aroma of steaming tea. Sasha carefully placed the papers and ink on the table before gracefully pouring the tea into a delicate cup. Amara sat with a sigh of contentment, reaching for the fountain pen. Selecting a sheet from the stack, she began to draft a business proposal.
The warmth of the tea beckoned at her side, and Amara used her free hand to bring the cup to her lips, savoring the first sip. After a moment, she addressed Sasha once more, her tone casual. "Tell me, my dear, what was the name of that maid we discussed earlier?"
"Mavis Gunther," Sasha replied, her tone matter-of-fact. Amara's pen stilled on the paper, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly at the name. "That maid, hm?" A flicker of recognition crossed her features. 'Mavis... that name has surfaced more than once in the pages I've skimmed. A mental note solidified. Christine's shadow, her most devoted – and deceptively loyal – servant.'
A sardonic smile played on Amara's lips. 'For a damn teenager, her brain's already twisted. Corrupt? Nah, more like rabid. Completely up her own ass thinking she's doing the right thing for Saint Christine, no matter how fucked up it is.' Her thoughts took a darker turn. 'And Heisenberg, that bootlicking moron probably fuels her delusion, their shared obsession with that precious protagonist creating some seriously toxic bullshit.'
A silent snarl tightened Amara's jaw. 'Negative one thousand aura points for these brain-dead sycophants.' Amara tapped her pen against the paper, her mind buzzing with the implications. Mavis Gunther... definitely a problem, and maybe, just maybe, a way in.
"Mavis is still in the Manor, correct?" Amara's voice held a clipped tone. "Precisely, My Lady," Sasha confirmed.
"When are those two returning? Heisenberg and Christine?" Amara's tone was sharp. "The day after tomorrow is the anticipated arrival." Amara's face scrunched up in irritation. 'Fucking hell. This complicates things. Suddenly having Christine's little shadow disappear right after they show up? Subtle as a brick to the face.'
A sigh, laced with the dread of future exhaustion, escaped her. She threw herself back into the proposal, the flow of ink a small distraction from her mounting concerns, Sasha's quiet refills of her tea a small, consistent comfort.
—
True to their word, the siblings returned to the Manor before the sun was fully up. As Amara made her way downstairs, the sight that greeted her was the twins deep in cheerful conversation with Eleanor's parents, a stark contrast to the barely concealed irritation etched on Ethan's features. He had clearly envisioned a more private reunion with Eleanor. A faint smile played on Amara's lips – a small victory before the inevitable exhaustion of the day ahead.
Carina's bright smile upon seeing Amara quickly morphed into one of amused surprise, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. "Eleanor! My dear, I'm quite taken aback!" A playful giggle escaped her as she took in Eleanor's masculine attire. "Undoubtedly a trait inherited from my side of the family," Harley chimed in, eliciting a hearty laugh from Carina.
Amara returned Carina's smile, then turned a questioning gaze towards the twins. "I've heard from these two that you're planning a visit to the plaza today! Did you bring everything you needed?" Carina's question prompted Amara to raise a subtle eyebrow at the siblings. Good. They're already playing along for her ass. Her initial intention was to go alone, but she now recognized the wisdom in having the trio accompany her – a built-in buffer against unwanted attention.
"Yes, there are a few things I need to see," Amara replied smoothly. "And I've brought everything necessary." Carina rose from the couch, pressing a quick kiss to Eleanor's cheek, followed swiftly by Harley. The unexpected display of affection caused Amara to stiffen momentarily, a foreign sensation. She offered a nervous smile in return and awkwardly mirrored their gesture, pecking them lightly on the cheek.
"We're off now. See you both later!" Amara announced, making a swift exit. A hot wave of embarrassment washed over her, coloring her face as she practically leaped into the carriage, letting out a relieved sigh once inside. This is going to take some serious getting used to.
The siblings followed her with their usual energy. Issabel nestled beside Amara, while Elliot and Ethan took the opposite seats. "You clean up nice today, Eleany," Elliot remarked with a grin, immediately setting off Issabel's excited squeals. "Elliot's right! Eleanor, you look absolutely fantastic in those clothes! Who knew?!" Issabel cried, throwing her arms around Amara in a burst of affection. "You're setting a whole new standard!" Ethan nodded with gusto, his silent approval radiating across the carriage.
A small, awkward laugh escaped Amara. "Thank you. Comfort seemed key for today's adventures in this sweltering weather." She turned to Ethan, who hadn't broken his gaze. "So, our appointment with Mister Poisonous?"
"Apparently, he's holed up somewhere deep in the black market. We'll track him down, though; I've secured a meeting," Elliot stated, prompting Amara to hide a small, knowing smile. 'Well, well. Someone's had a change of heart about mingling with the underworld.' Her smile was polite but firm. "Thank you for getting me this far, everyone. But the conversation from here on out needs to be just between him and me."
"We understand, Eleany. Just... be safe while we wait for you, okay?" A slight frown creased Ethan's usually impassive features, a hint of worry softening his monotone expression. "Don't worry," Amara reassured him. "I'll keep that in mind."
—
[ MAIN QUEST: INCOMING SOLDIER DETECTIVE!
"Gather solid evidence to win Eleanor's case!"
DURATION: 1 day(s), 4 hours, 15 minutes
— 2000+ EXP
— 5 SKILL POINTS
— 300 STELIA COINS
— UNLOCKING MAGIC SHOP
P.S. You can get your skills upgraded even without skill points, you gain them by experience. ]
Her gaze snapped to the "DURATION" – barely a day and a few hours. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. "No time to waste." The listed rewards blurred past her awareness, insignificant compared to the line that followed: "UNLOCKING MAGIC SHOP." Magic? Her thoughts spiraled. This wasn't just about clearing Eleanor's name; this was about potentially tapping into a fundamental force of this world. The note about skill upgrades was a curious detail, filed away for later consideration, but the magic shop held immediate, irresistible allure. A fresh wave of urgency constricted her chest. Mister Poisonous wasn't just a source of information anymore; he was a potential key – and perhaps even a future business partner if he proved amenable to her proposal – to unlocking a whole new realm of possibilities.
The growing din from beyond the carriage windows snagged Amara's attention. Peeking out, she saw the vibrant tapestry of the plaza unfolding: a throng of people moving along the ancient cobblestones, the sharp cries of vendors weaving through the air, each vying for attention. A small smile softened Amara's lips; the mingled scents of street food and fresh air filtering through the glass brought a momentary sense of peace.
Her focus then shifted to the task at hand. From beneath her seat, she produced a large cloak and quickly enveloped herself in its concealing folds, a necessary precaution for her venture into the public space.
They arrived at the plaza's far corner, the store a pocket of stillness amidst the vibrant chaos, its entrance hinting at secrets within. The siblings remained in the carriage as Amara dismounted, her eyes fixed on the building that seemed to hum with an unseen energy. She watched the carriage pull away, leaving her alone with the enigmatic shop, before squaring her shoulders and gently knocking on the door. A tremor of anticipation, mixed with nerves, ran through her.
The door whined open, a sliver of absolute darkness beckoning her in. "This is some goddamn horror game," she muttered, a nervous laugh catching in her throat. Each hesitant step inside groaned on the aged wood. Then the chemical stench hit, a physical wave that forced her hand to her nose, her breath catching. The heavy thunk of the door slamming shut behind her wasn't startling, not really. It felt inevitable, a confirmation of the trap she'd walked into.
Amara blew out a frustrated breath and peered into the blackness. Then, the air itself seemed to hum, and pinpricks of light bloomed around her, each a different, vibrant color. Slowly, these coalesced, revealing rows upon rows of glass bottles filled with glowing liquids. She was encircled by a silent, luminous pharmacy of the unknown. Were they elixirs or deadly concoctions?
Amara swallowed hard, her gaze sweeping the gloom. Then, as if a hidden spotlight operator had been waiting for his cue, a stark beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the very center of the room. There, a long, obsidian table gleamed, cluttered with a mesmerizing array of glass vials and bubbling concoctions – the kind of setup that would send a science obsessive into raptures. But it wasn't the equipment that stole her breath. It was the figure standing behind it. His movements were fluid, almost serpentine, as long, raven hair cascaded down his back, catching the light like liquid night. His hands, long-fingered and precise, danced amongst the potions with an unnerving grace. "Oh, he's definitely the villain," Amara thought, a cold dread coiling in her gut. This wasn't just a baddie; this was a performance.
Then he started fucking talking. His voice, even with a light, almost musical cadence that hinted at wicked amusement, was dangerously smooth as hell, each goddamn word a deliberate caress that sent a shiver of pure unease down Amara's spine. "I fucking hate pretty men," she thought, a prickle of fear mixing with reluctant fascination, the bastard. 'This is a sick fucking joke, a goddamn torture!' The terrifying thought wormed its way into her mind: this motherfucker could say the most horrific shit with that voice and make it sound like a sweet goddamn invitation. Her breath hitched. She felt like a fly caught in a particularly beautiful and deadly goddamn spiderweb.
A slow, almost predatory smile spread across his lips, instantly making Amara's stomach clench despite its undeniable allure. The boredom vanished completely, replaced by a keen, unsettling interest. "Elliot Patriela, you say? Perhaps a fortunate misdirection. Tell me, what brings someone not Elliot Patriela to my humble sanctuary? Perhaps fate has a more… intriguing plan in store." His voice was still captivating, but now laced with a honeyed threat.
Maintaining a brave facade, her focus narrowed on the transaction, Amara stated, "I asked Elliot to set an appointment." With deliberate calm, she approached the man, casually hefting a heavy bag of coins from her satchel. She tossed it with an air of nonchalance that belied its weight. The man's playful grin faltered, genuine surprise momentarily freezing his features as he instinctively caught the substantial offering. Then, a wide, almost childlike grin bloomed across his face. With a swift, theatrical clap of his hands, a vibrant and fantastical flower field sprang into existence around them. "Oh, wonderful! A customer with such… delightful currency!" he exclaimed with charming enthusiasm. He eagerly took Amara's arm, his grip surprisingly firm, and guided her towards an opulent, velvet couch, gesturing for her to sit. He then bustled off with a newfound energy to prepare tea, the whimsical and colorful flower field seemingly trailing in his delighted wake.
'Okay, so money talks. Loudly.' Amara shifted slightly against the unexpectedly comfortable cushions, her gaze wandering across the cluttered ceiling. As long as he stays bought, this might actually be manageable.
Mister Poisonous reappeared, a beautiful porcelain tea set held with practiced grace. He offered Amara a cup with a flourish and poured her tea with a smooth, almost theatrical gesture, his charming smile holding a touch of practiced allure.
Mister Poisonous settled into a nearby, equally plush armchair, his charming smile never quite reaching his calculating eyes. He steepled his fingers, regarding Amara with an air of professional courtesy. "Lady Eleanor," he purred, a subtle emphasis on her title, "your reputation precedes you, as does the... shall we say, generosity of your initial offering. Pray tell, what task requires my unique expertise?"
Amara casually presented a thick document, sliding it across the table. "Have a look. My business proposal." The charming smile on Mister Poisonous's face froze, replaced by a curious frown as he studied Lady Eleanor with a newfound intensity. "A business proposal? Lady Eleanor, this is… an unexpectedly direct approach to acquiring my… unique services."
A skeptical curiosity danced in his eyes, his head tilting slightly, a flicker of genuine interest now mingling with his doubt. "And why should I, a man whose talents lie in… less conventional enterprises, consider a venture proposed by a young noblewoman destined for the throne, despite your current… predicament? Forgive my bluntness, but our worlds seem rather… diametrically opposed."
Amara's lips curved into a sharp, confident smile that held a hint of something dangerous. She produced another bag of gold, letting it land beside the papers with a decisive thud, the weighty sound punctuating her words. "Read it. Now. Waste my time with your presumptions, and this is all you'll get." She crossed her legs, her gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in her eyes. "Perhaps you'll find my 'inexperience' in your shadowed world… surprisingly lucrative, Mister Poisonous."
Mister Poisonous's eyebrows rose further, a spark of genuine intrigue now clearly visible. This unexpected boldness, coupled with the implied promise of profit, was a far cry from the demure image of Lady Eleanor. The sweet innocent? Perhaps there's a cunning strategist lurking beneath that polished facade.
Mister Poisonous finally picked up the stack of papers, a clear reluctance on his face battling with the undeniable weight of the gold pouch he swiftly pocketed. As he began to skim the meticulously detailed proposal, Amara's pointed words hung in the air.
"While you peruse that, Mister Poisonous," Amara said, her gaze sweeping pointedly around the rather exposed and chaotically organized shop, "perhaps you'll also consider the… inherent risks of your current mode of operation. This establishment, while…characterful, doesn't exactly scream 'discreet sanctuary.' A more legitimate front, such as the one I propose, would offer you a far more secure and comfortable base from which to conduct your… business, wouldn't you agree? Think of the peace of mind, knowing you aren't constantly looking over your shoulder." She leaned back slightly, a subtle challenge in her eyes. "And who knows? With the right… arrangements, you might even find yourself delegating the more… hands-on aspects of your profession from a more… refined setting."
Mister Poisonous's eyes flickered up from the proposal, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He glanced around his cluttered shop, perhaps seeing it now through Amara's critical gaze. The inherent vulnerability of his current setup was undeniable. He returned his attention to the papers, a seed of interest perhaps beginning to sprout amidst his initial skepticism.
To make long story short, Amara wants to open a sophisticated café with Mister Poisonous. It looks like a high-class establishment for the public, but secretly he'll handle the shady stuff (rare ingredients, discreet deliveries, maybe even some "special requests" from clients). He gets a legitimate business and better connections; she gets his skills and a perfect cover for their partnership, all while serving exquisite pastries and brewing strong tea.
And to make things even better on Amara's end, her knowledge from another world gives their fancy café a unique edge, attracting customers with concepts the current era hasn't imagined. Her skills in creating novel beverages, aesthetically pleasing food, efficient service, and a captivating ambiance will establish the café as a must-visit destination, generating significant income and strengthening their legitimate cover. This success, born from her "future" insights, provides a solid foundation for their clandestine partnership with Mister Poisonous.
"Intriguing, Lady Eleanor... quite unexpected," Mister Poisonous murmured, his eyes still scanning the proposal, a thoughtful frown now replaced by a flicker of something akin to amusement.
Amara's playful smile widened. "You would've kicked yourself later for dismissing those 'damn papers' without a second glance, wouldn't you, Mister Poisonous? So, what's your verdict? As I see it, aligning with me offers a distinct lack of… unpleasant consequences. Wouldn't you agree?"
Mister Poisonous lowered the papers slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Lady Eleanor, I confess, my initial skepticism has… diminished. The… opportunities presented here are… compelling. A more stable base, a wider network… and your… innovative ideas… they have a certain… allure. I have questions, of course, but… consider my interest piqued."
"Excellent," Amara replied, her smile radiating confidence. "Lay them bare, Mister Poisonous. Every concern, every reservation. I assure you, by the time we're through, you'll find this venture as… irresistible as a perfectly brewed cup of rare tea on a cold morning. Worry will be a flavor you'll soon forget."
Mister Poisonous steepled his fingers, his gaze sharp. "My primary concern, Lady Eleanor, is trust and control. My… profession requires a certain level of autonomy and discretion. How do you envision your involvement impacting my operational freedom? Furthermore," he tapped the proposal thoughtfully, "you mentioned… 'innovative' concepts, ideas unfamiliar to our current world. While intriguing, unfamiliarity can breed suspicion. How do you intend to introduce these… novelties without drawing unwanted attention, especially given your own… prominent position?"
"Those are precisely the right questions to ask, Mister Poisonous," Amara said, her smile now laced with a touch of professional understanding. "Firstly, regarding trust and control: my intention is not to micromanage your… established operations. Your expertise in your field is undeniable, and I respect that. My involvement will primarily be on the strategic and financial aspects of The Velvet Brew. Think of me as a silent investor and partner, providing the necessary resources and overall direction. Your autonomy in your specialized endeavors remains paramount, operating entirely behind the scenes, as long as it aligns with our mutual benefit and utmost discretion."
She then leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with a hint of her "future" knowledge. "As for the 'innovative' concepts… ah, that is where the true artistry lies in subtlety. The public will never know the true hand behind these unique offerings. We will establish a carefully chosen, trustworthy manager – someone with impeccable discretion and a believable backstory – to be the face of The Velvet Brew. The new brewing methods, the intriguing flavors… these will be presented as the manager's own inspired creations or perhaps techniques learned during fictitious travels. My 'prominent position' will serve as initial intrigue, drawing in the curious and the elite to this novel establishment: The Velvet Brew. Any success will be attributed to the café's exceptional quality and the talent of its apparent leadership. Our involvement remains entirely in the shadows, a silent engine driving its success."
Amara paused, her gaze steady. "Discretion, Mister Poisonous, is not just a necessity; it's the very foundation of this alliance. The Velvet Brew will be a masterpiece of public allure built upon a bedrock of absolute secrecy regarding our partnership."
Mister Poisonous let out a hearty laugh, the papers in his hands trembling slightly. "Well, well, Lady Eleanor," he chuckled, a genuine amusement lighting his eyes. "It seems you've rather skillfully cornered me. How can a man of my… talents possibly refuse an offer that promises such… mutually agreeable benefits? Consider my interest more than piqued. I believe," he tapped the proposal with a knowing smile, "The Velvet Brew has found its silent partner."
A giddy smile, momentarily breaking through her confident facade, bloomed on Amara's face. With a subtle shrug, the large cloak slid from her shoulders and settled around her on the plush cushions of the couch, allowing her pastel blue hair to cascade softly around her neck and shoulders. "Indeed I believe you have, Mister Poisonous."
Mister Poisonous leaned back in his armchair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I must confess, Lady Eleanor, you carry masculine attire with a certain… flair. It's certainly not the common sight, especially not on someone destined to be Empress."
Amara chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "Trying to keep me off my guard with compliments, are we, Mister Poisonous?" Mister Poisonous chuckled back, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "Consider it a professional courtesy – gauging my new business partner's… tolerances, you feisty thing."
Amara huffed softly, a small smile playing on her lips despite the playful jab, as she stretched her arms above her head, easing the stiffness in her shoulders. "Now that that's fucking settled, and surprisingly quick, I also came in here for another goddamn reason."
"Ah, now we're getting to the heart of the matter," Mister Poisonous murmured, one elegant eyebrow arching with renewed interest. "The business proposal, while…unexpectedly enticing, was not your sole purpose for braving my humble abode?"
Amara's earlier amusement faded, replaced by a directness in her gaze. "Obviously. While the prospect of The Velvet Brew is… promising, I initially came seeking your particular expertise. Specifically," she gestured towards the array of potentially lethal bottles, "I require access to some of your more… exquisitely deadly creations."
"You see, that stank prince and that sneaky-ass bitch of a maid decided to purchase some poison here and fucking feed it to me," Amara stated, her voice hardening, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "And I want their goddamn heads on a silver platter. I was wondering if you happen to forge receipts here? Though I highly doubt it. So, instead, do you have a potion that I can control? I need that maid to spill the fucking truth at the trial without implicating either of us, and make me look even more innocent than I actually am." A crazed smile stretched across Amara's face, barely masking the simmering fury beneath.
Mister Poisonous's smile vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "The Crown Prince was a client of mine? Well, well. That certainly explains the rather substantial amount of coin that little commoner maid possessed, didn't it?" A thoughtful frown creased his brow. "This complicates matters… or perhaps, it makes them far more… interesting."
Amara scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyways, enough about that slimy bastard. The real question is, do you have any of those truth-telling concoctions I can use on that maid? Something that'll make her spill her guts without fail?"
"Naturally, my dear Lady Eleanor. I wouldn't have earned my rather… evocative moniker without a few such secrets tucked away, now would I?" Mister Poisonous rose gracefully from his armchair, gesturing for Amara to follow. He led her down a narrow aisle lined with row upon row of meticulously arranged bottles, each containing liquids of varying hues and ominous glows. His eyes scanned the collection until they settled on a particular vial that pulsed with an unsettling, internal light.
"Here you are, My Lady," Mister Poisonous said smoothly, carefully extracting the glowing bottle and presenting it to Amara. "This particular concoction should serve your… needs quite effectively. Its effects are remarkably persistent; a regular addition to their food or drink will keep the subject in a suggestible state, readily inclined to follow your commands and answer your questions truthfully, without resistance."
Amara smirked in return, a hint of dark amusement in her eyes. "Well, aren't you just the picture of reliability, Mister Poisonous?" She carefully took the bottle of truth serum. "Ah, and one more thing. A sleeping draught, if you please? Would you be so kind as to indulge me further?"
"But of course, my Lady," Mister Poisonous replied smoothly. He turned and retrieved another bottle, this one filled with a swirling, opalescent liquid, and presented it to Amara. A delighted smile touched Amara's lips as she reached for her coin purse, but Mister Poisonous gently but firmly stopped her hand.
"Consider these a complimentary gift, Lady Eleanor," he said, his grip surprisingly firm. "You have… truly impressed me." He then took Amara's hand, his touch surprisingly soft, and placed a lingering kiss upon her knuckles. "And please, my dear. After such a promising partnership begins, I would appreciate it if you called me Lysander."
Just then, a series of notifications flashed in Amara's vision, eclipsing her surprise at Lysander's gesture.
[ HIDDEN QUEST: MISTER POISONOUS' SECRET IDENTITY!
STATUS: COMPLETED!
"Find out about Mister Poisonous' identity!"
Identity identified: Lysander Blight, a powerful mage from the clock tower mages, disappeared mysteriously."
REWARDS: Teleporter (2x), 5,000 EXP, 1,000 STELIA COINS. ]
[ + YOU LEVEL UP!
+ YOU LEVEL UP!
+ YOU LEVEL UP!
+ YOU LEVEL UP!
+ YOU LEVEL UP!
+ YOU LEVEL UP!
.... YOU HAVE ACCESS TO MAGIC
Current Stats:
Character Name: Eleanor Hawthorne (Amara Sinclair) Lvl. 20
HP: 10,780/10,780
Strength: Lvl. 15
Magic Power: Lvl. 1
Agility: Lvl. 12
Speed: Lvl. 16
REP: +1000 in Azure Isles Nobles (+500)
Attributes: None
Passive: Flow Weaver Lvl. 13 ]
Amara's eyes widened at the cascade of notifications, her mind racing with the implications of Lysander's true identity and the sudden surge of power within her. The unexpected kiss on her hand was completely forgotten in the face of this startling revelation and her newfound magical abilities.
[ CONGRATULATIONS MISS AMARA! This is far beyond most any player who has improved this fast such as you, you've truly blessed us and my master! ]
A wide, almost radiant smile spread across Amara's face, a stark contrast to the calculating demeanor she'd held moments before. She gently withdrew her hand from Lysander's and took a step closer, invading his personal space with a deliberate charm. Leaning in, she pressed her cheek against his in a swift faire la bise, the unexpected intimacy causing Lysander to momentarily stiffen.
Amara pulled back, a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Expect me again after my little… court appearance, Lysander. Then, we shall properly forge a contract between us." Acting as if the hand-kiss and the cheek-to-cheek greeting were the most natural things in the world, Amara turned and gracefully exited the dimly lit brewing store, leaving a slightly bewildered and undoubtedly intrigued mage in her wake.
End of Chapter Five.