Chapter 17: Her Performance

In Chishuang City’s only concert hall, a beautiful woman sat alone on stage, gently pressing the final piano key.

As the last note lingered, the audience rose, their tidal wave of applause proving the brilliance of the musician’s performance.

The woman stood, her radiant smile tear-streaked.

She said nothing, only curtsied deeply, lifting her skirt, and left the stage with serene grace.

In the highest balcony, Count Ironstone raised his glass admiringly to the smiling young man at the edge. “Your eye for talent is astounding, Lord Hydra. In ten years—no, five—the Empire may welcome another musical master.”

He touched his chest sincerely. “I’ve never heard such passionate, infectious music. Miss Nanaka is a true genius. Only a fool like Cantrell would waste such talent.”

Anselm returned the toast, smiling. “Count Chishuang’s talents lay elsewhere. It’s normal for him to fall short in some areas, isn’t it?”

The two most powerful nobles in Chishuang Territory laughed heartily, though the headless corpse still hanging at Anselm’s mansion gate couldn’t hear.

As the laughter faded, Ironstone ventured cautiously, “Does Miss Nanaka… need a recommendation for the Imperial Royal Theater?”

“You should ask her, not me, Lord Ironstone,” Anselm replied with a half-smile. “Or try sending the letter directly to Yura. Isn’t that how you courted my Hitana?”

Startled, the dozing girl in the corner jerked, instinctively clutching her neck collar.

Gone was her overly plain brown hunter’s outfit.

Her black velvet cloak, now open, revealed a black leather bodysuit and fitted trousers, their intricate patterns subtle yet striking.

The sleek black ensemble, paired with her neatly trimmed, heroic yet elegant snow-white hair and the collar on her slender neck, blended commanding strength with a hint of vulnerability, making her even more captivating.

Of course, only Anselm in Chishuang Territory dared to gaze at Hitana so openly now.

Ironstone shook his head. “Miss Hitana is destined for great things. For me, it’s merely a profitable investment, whatever others think.”

Anselm’s wine-swirling paused briefly.

He rubbed his snake-headed cane, his gaze on Ironstone turning playful. “How’s Grand Duke Ironblade doing, Lord Ironstone?”

The young noble, leaning on his cane, approached the increasingly nervous count.

“…The Grand Duke, he’s doing well.”

Ironstone’s demeanor shifted abruptly, his words stilted, lacking his usual smoothness with Anselm.

Anselm studied him for a moment, then chuckled“Relax, Lord Ironstone. I only wanted to know how Grand Duke Ironblade’s been lately.”

Seeing Anselm drop the topic, Ironstone exhaled, speaking more cautiously, “Lord Hydra, regarding the assassination that night… After days of investigation, I’ve confirmed who was behind it.”

Anselm sipped his wine leisurely, ignoring him.

Ironstone watched him, then continued, “It was Viscount Longbing and Viscount Xiaofeng, Cantrell’s key lackeys. Your swift actions… likely provoked them into such folly.”

“They don’t seem to know they’re exposed, but their movements suggest they’re amassing funds to flee. Your plans—”

“Small matters I’ll handle myself,” Anselm said, setting down his glass and beckoning Hitana, before smiling kindly at Ironstone. “Thank you for your efforts these past days.”

“No, no… allowing you to be targeted was my grave failure.”

Ironstone shook his head vigorously. “Your leniency in not pursuing it fills me with gratitude.”

Bored out of her mind, Hitana jogged over, whispering, “Can we go?”

Anselm tugged her collar, pulling her down, whispering back, “Not yet. What’re you thinking?”

“Then you—guh!”

Miss Hitana, admirably, only let a tiny grunt slip through her teeth, standing firm without collapsing into Anselm’s arms—a commendable effort.

Ignoring the untamed white-haired pup’s fierce glare, Anselm lounged on the sofa, savoring his wine.

Until a servant hurried to the balcony entrance, whispering to Anselm.

“So eager…” Anselm chuckled, turning to Ironstone. “My good girl awaits me, Lord Ironstone. I’ll pass on more drinks.”

Ironstone rose to see him off, but Anselm waved him away.

Miss Hitana, as if pardoned, nearly bolted out.

From the balcony, Ironstone watched the master and servant leave until they vanished, then sighed in relief.

“…Master.”

Someone emerged from the balcony’s shadows behind Ironstone, puzzled. “I could easily take those viscounts’ heads. Why stop me? Offering their heads to Lord Hydra now would surely please him more.”

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t, Gallo.”

Ironstone gazed at the dispersing crowd below, saying calmly, “And don’t be presumptuous. That’s what smart people do.”

***

Anselm didn’t know of Ironstone’s brief exchange with his subordinate.

He only knew that since Ironstone had brought up the assassination, it was time to proceed accordingly.

But first—

“Master! Was my performance to your liking?”

Yura, twirling her long skirt ahead of Anselm, beamed radiantly.

“If I weren’t pleased, would I be here with you?” Anselm replied, smiling.

“A few flaws, but they didn’t dim your brilliance on stage. I told you, Yura, an invitation from the Imperial Royal Theater isn’t far off.”

Yura curtsied, lifting her face with a playful smile. “But I don’t care about the Royal Theater now, master. I just want to enjoy my reward time.”

She skipped to Anselm’s side, linking arms, resting her head on his shoulder, murmuring dreamily, “Even half a day… feels like an impossibly beautiful dream.”

As she spoke, Yura glanced at Hitana, apologizing sincerely, “I’m sorry, Miss Hitana, for taking your time too.”

Before Hitana could reply, Anselm said, “That’s her job, Yura. No need to apologize.”

Hitana’s face soured, but she held her tongue—speaking would likely earn her a shock.

Looking at the woman’s face, those pitch-black, near-lightless eyes unnerved her.

Was her music really that good?

Why did everyone go crazy for it?

Hitana pondered, puzzled.

Was she the only one who felt irritated, even headachy?

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