Translator: Nox

Chapter 59

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She departed the office sooner than usual, venturing into the capital’s vibrant marketplace beside Connie. This excursion marked her recent career advancement while also allowing time to select a present for Anika’s imminent birthday.

Anika’s gift was settled, so she suggested they dine beforehand.

They settled on an upscale eatery celebrated for its opulent lighting fixtures, a favorite haunt among the city’s elite women lately.

Connie swept inside wearing an air of lofty entitlement, reminiscent of highborn lineage, then flashed a discreet gesture of approval, clearly delighted.

She mirrored the demeanor with exaggerated poise, yet a chuckle escaped before she could compose herself fully.

Her mimicry lacked conviction, she noted inwardly.

Their gazes connected, sparking shared mirth that shattered the performance. A server appeared to escort them, as they murmured critiques of their own pompous visages.

Fortune smiled with a window seat overlooking the fading sun. They claimed it under his direction, submitted their choices, and soon savored initial courses.

Connie seized her utensils the instant plates arrived, offering a belated salutation in teasing fashion.

Mouth occupied, she responded with a simple incline of her head.

True to its reputation among discerning aristocrats, each course delighted the palate. They devoured the fare quietly, savoring every morsel.

Meal complete, they indulged in sweets from a close confectionery before proceeding to a gem boutique popular with youthful nobility for Anika’s token.

En route, her eyes caught a display from the Miller lineage’s outlet. That Herman Miller seat from earlier outshone the rigid, uncomfortable ones back at finance by leagues.

The sight stirred awareness of her routine: seated hours eclipsed horizontal ones, rest included.

Perhaps furnishings for Father and the siblings made sense too, she contemplated.

Her wages had multiplied by five. Such indulgences fell easily within reach.

Seized by whim, she hailed Connie, who pressed onward.

“Hold up—let’s peek inside briefly.”

The store neared shutdown, evident in the attendant’s hesitant advance, though courtesy held firm.

“Greetings. Seeking anything specific today?”

She resolved silently to expedite his evening.

Buoyed by impending funds, she offered a self-assured grin.

Luxury pieces often demanded lengthy deliberations, but precision guided her here.

She requested triples of the office-style workstations and seats.

His pen hovered mid-note.

“Triples of these models?”

“Any issue?”

Her casual query prompted a warmer, accommodating explanation.

“These customs partner with the Magic Tower, so fulfillment follows confirmation—delays expected.”

Magic Tower ties inflated costs for bespoke work, clarifying his initial pause at volume.

Preproduction only, she marveled, assuming the Inspection Unit stocked standards.

Why equip auditors over some lord’s chamber?

Reading her pause, he amplified tales of intricate crafting, annual caps, endless queues.

Perfect timing for her needs.

Pretending mild regret, she inquired,

“What top-tier options ship right away?”

Evident queues eased his tension; he produced a brochure.

Her boosted purse accommodated the listings comfortably.

She scrawled her commitment eagerly on his form.

“Add a note for shipment?”

A brief missive clarified origins, sparing kin surprise.

Transaction wrapped under ten minutes—brisk efficiency.

Lavishing funds thrilled her core, awakening a lavish alter ego long dormant on trifles.

Arm in arm with yielding Connie, they advanced to baubles.

Equity demanded maternal and sisterly shares now.

Past caution with trinkets suiting a child’s whims differed sharply this cycle.

Sparkles aplenty begged selection here.

Mature styles eluded Mother’s profile.

Another venue proved impractical now.

A timeless pearl strand sufficed.

Connie observed extravagance anxiously, urging restraint sotto voce.

She grinned lightly, extending a parcel.

The bauble that had captivated Connie amid Anika selections.

Inspection revealed, Connie flushed, proffering return.

“Inspection Unit bribe slip already?”

Youth-oriented gems commanded steep tabs for casual gestures, meriting banter.

“Precisely—embrace it gracefully.”

She countered playfully, urging acceptance.

Connie’s bold gambles had long warranted reciprocity, stirring deep sentiment.

Verbal thanks felt hollow to her weary spirit.

Tangible tokens conveyed esteem best.

Thus, belated recompense arrived wordlessly.

Unyielding insistence prevailed; Connie yielded, sheepish.

“Fine—claiming today as my annual celebration. Birthday advance.”

Temple wards like her lacked birth records, pegging arrival dates nominally, though she rotated whimsically. February claimed this round, winter’s pull.

Gift dispatched regardless.

Morning brought her to duties refreshed.

Masterful seating sharpened focus, powering through files unbroken to midday.

Western probe dominated.

Echoes of Donovan’s setup against Connie, spurring Kyle pursuit.

Resolution eluded; Duke Camelot’s partial seizure and penalty seemed superficial closure.

Blue Falcon delved deeper, auditing falsified ledgers for diverted ore.

Strategic ore fueled armaments.

Contraband risked armament caches or border flares over bullion hoards.

Full trail demanded pursuit.

Irregularities abounded.

Few traders handled ores officially, yet shadow trades undershot Camelot’s haul.

Official denials cited duplicates, aligning arms buyers precisely with deficits.

Absent alternatives and ducal vehemence, clerks dismissed as oversight.

Preposterous for vital records.

Unreliable manifests justified incursion, unearthing excessive miners.