Chapter 92
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93.
"That's strange. This used to be a hill...."
"You don't know of Labonne Salon either?"
"No. I've never heard of it."
"Hmm...."
Zahidra read the letter once more before folding it away.
His eyes gleamed with delight as they swept across the four portraits.
Zahidra rubbed his chin and spoke.
"Abraham. You've been at my side for so long—surely you know me well."
"If my humble opinion is required, please ask."
"Loyalty or profit. Which did I prosper by following?"
Abraham regarded Zahidra, noting the playful glint in his expression.
In such moments, the answer was typically already determined.
It was a sort of test to gauge whether Abraham's faculties had dulled.
Zahidra frequently sprang such tests upon his subordinates without warning.
A wrong answer invariably brought disadvantage at the next personnel review.
Abraham had never once failed Zahidra's tests.
And today would be no exception.
Abraham smiled subtly and answered.
"Profit, my lord. If one has lost another's loyalty, one need only regain the loyalty of he who granted profit."
"A fine answer. Then prepare for my departure. I must meet my friends in person."
Abraham nodded and quietly departed the office.
* * *
"A building of such magnitude was constructed without anyone knowing!"
Salvador, a member of the Montblanc Club, stepped from the carriage and gazed up at Labonne Salon.
"It's said the Duke of Johannes conducted it in secret, so such a thing is possible."
Teresa, who had arrived late, spoke while fanning her mouth with her fan.
She too seemed astonished by the scale of Labonne Salon, her eyes widened slightly.
"A salon for lease.... I cannot help but wonder what sort of enterprise this might be."
Helen descended from the carriage, following Teresa.
She adjusted her thick spectacles and examined Labonne Salon's exterior with keen interest.
"Still, the Duke of Johannes is practically a symbol of the Church itself. Why would he take interest in our club.... I confess I'm worried it might be the Church's spy operation."
Salvador rubbed the soft crimson carpet beneath his feet as he spoke.
A faint satisfaction flickered in his eyes, as though the carpet pleased him.
Helen regarded him with disdain.
"He was chosen by His Majesty himself. Are you questioning the Emperor's judgment?"
"Of course not. It's merely an old woman's worry."
"In any case, if the Duke truly joins our club, we've gained a formidable ally. We should be delighted."
Teresa showed no reaction to Helen's excited words.
Yet her face seemed somewhat animated, as though the salon had pleased her.
"Welcome. Are you perhaps Professor Salvador, Teresa, and Helen?"
Just as Margaret was taking in the splendid lobby, she greeted the three visitors with impeccable courtesy.
Salvador nodded vigorously.
Margaret offered an appropriately measured smile.
"I am Margaret Bennett, the director of this establishment. Should you require anything at all, please do not hesitate to inform me. Now, allow me to show you around."
Margaret was somewhat tense, though this fact remained imperceptible to the naked eye.
If anything, her nervousness only enabled her to present an even more impeccable demeanor than usual.
As salon staff passed by and caught sight of the three professors, they paused briefly and offered respectful nods.
Teresa smiled knowingly and whispered to Helen.
"The staff here is of remarkable caliber. I had assumed this would be some sort of street-side outdoor café, but it's quite the pleasant surprise."
Upon overhearing those words, Margaret's shoulders tensed noticeably.
The worry that had plagued her since last night melted away like snow.
Margaret still found it awkward to interact with many people, particularly members of the nobility.
Painful memories surfaced, and the fact that she was a fallen noblewoman made her the subject of ridicule.
For this reason, Margaret had earnestly requested to Danae that she be entrusted with the Kitchen.
Thus, Danae would oversee the Lobby and guest reception, while Margaret would manage the Kitchen and miscellaneous decorative arrangements.
However, to conceal the House of Obelia's involvement in the Salon for today's surprise announcement, this arrangement had to be kept secret.
Consequently, as a temporary measure, Margaret had taken on guest reception duties.
'Compose yourself....'
Margaret took a deep breath and opened the door.
"Please, come this way."
The club members who had arrived earlier greeted the three with bright expressions.
"Welcome, welcome. You're late, aren't you?"
The flushed-faced club members scanned the room with eyes gleaming with anticipation.
* * *
The members of the Montblanc Club were people who had already tasted and enjoyed the world's rarest treasures in abundance.
Their tastes were so refined that ordinary collections or books could scarcely capture their interest.
Yet these very members were snorting with excitement.
Salvador looked about the room with a bewildered expression.
The spacious chamber, easily large enough to accommodate dozens of grown men, was elegantly arranged with furniture crafted from deep, aged wood.
Salvador ran his hand across the long table positioned at the center.
The smooth, polished surface of the wood transmitted a pleasant sensation to his touch.
One wall was lined with an enormous bookcase that required a ladder to access.
The shelves were densely packed with volumes spanning numerous disciplines—precisely the sort of collection to captivate any scholar.
Helen, examining the shelves with keen interest, soon let out a cry of delight and swiftly climbed the ladder.
"These are no ordinary acquisitions. This is a statue of the goddess from the reign of the first Emperor...."
Teresa peered into a transparent display case, her eyes sparkling.
A pristine white statue of the Defrian goddess, weathered by the passage of ages, filled the interior of the case.
Teresa circled the display case, barely able to contain her desire to remove and examine the statue.
"I say, Salvador! There's something here that I think you'll absolutely adore."
Salvador, who had been standing slack-jawed in astonishment, snapped to attention at Chelston Semond's call.
Chelston was waving him over from in front of a tall reading stand.
An ancient tome rested upon the stand, preserved within a showcase as though it were a priceless treasure.
Salvador tilted his head curiously and walked toward the tome Chelston had mentioned.
As he examined the faded manuscript with an indifferent expression, his face suddenly lit up as though struck by lightning.
"This... this isn't Boniceller's Theological Treatise, is it?"
Salvador carefully deciphered the archaic tome written in an ancient language.
With each page he read, his hands trembled violently.
"Surely... this cannot be an original?"
He placed his trembling hand upon the glass of the showcase, leaving his fingerprints clearly etched upon its surface.
A work by Boniceller, the first theologian of the Defrian Church—could it truly be?
It was a tome that any theological scholar would drool over.
Observing Salvador's frantic examination of the manuscript, Chelston smiled with satisfaction, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"It's genuine, I assure you. The reason being that the proprietor of this salon is..."
"I see everyone has gathered already."
At that moment, the wall adorned with an eagle statue slid open smoothly.
And from within emerged Zahidra.
Everyone stared in stunned silence at Zahidra's unexpected appearance from such a concealed location.
"Ahem, hem!"
Abraham, who had appeared alongside Zahidra, cleared his throat.
The club members finally regained their composure and bowed their heads respectfully.
"We greet Your Majesty, the dignity of the world."
"Indeed. I see my unconventional entrance has startled you all. I myself was quite taken aback upon first witnessing it. Remarkable, is it not? A secret passage designed exclusively for our discreet organization. Quite the ingenious feature."
Zahidra ran his hand across the pristine white eagle statue with evident satisfaction.
The eagle, befitting its status as the symbol of Rotandus, exuded an air of martial prowess.
As Zahidra caressed the eagle's sturdy beak, he burst into laughter upon observing the members' wide-eyed wonder.
"It appears this establishment has thoroughly satisfied the refined tastes of our distinguished members. Our new recruit has clearly spared no effort—such dedication deserves commendation."
"Then this place shall become our new headquarters?"
Chelston asked, unable to contain his excitement.
Zahidra smiled and nodded in affirmation.
"Indeed it shall. A splendid venue, would you not agree?"
"Then where is this remarkable new member who has provided us with such a magnificent establishment?"
Salvador asked, nervously tapping upon the showcase of the reading stand.
He was positively thrumming with anticipation at the prospect of meeting the owner of the theological treatise and asking countless questions.
The others shared Salvador's sentiment, their eyes brimming with eager expectation.
Zahidra savored the members' reactions, which seemed ready to burst with curiosity.
Just as their patience appeared to reach its limit, Zahidra finally parted his lips after a deliberate pause.
"Now then, everyone compose yourselves. Shall I finally put you out of your misery and introduce our new members?"
"New members, plural? You mean there is someone besides the Duke of Johannes?"
Helen asked, adjusting her spectacles. She cradled two or three books in her arms as though they were precious treasures.
"Welcome to you all."
Before Helen could finish speaking, Julian entered.
The members' startled gazes swept past Julian's sharp eyes and landed on the face of a woman standing demurely at his side.
Chelston Semond, the first to recognize her, let out a cry that was nearly a shriek.
"R-Rebecca Devonshire...."
Rebecca, dressed in an understated emerald gown, offered an elegant greeting with a radiant smile.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Rebecca of House of Obelia."
* * *
"I'm not sure why you'd reveal your identity now. You said you'd keep it secret until after the wedding."
Julian asked Rebecca as they walked toward the so-called "Scholar's Room" created for the Montblanc Club.
Rebecca moved forward with unhurried grace as she spoke.
"The people gathered in that room right now are an emerging faction. They have the disadvantage of weaker cohesion compared to the old guard. For now, the Emperor serves as a central point that keeps them fairly united, but their bonds are shallow enough to fracture the moment their interests diverge."
The Scholar's Room was situated underground due to the weight of its collection.
At the stairs leading down, Julian gently supported Rebecca's elbow.
It was an escort as natural as flowing water. Rebecca glanced at Julian's thick fingers resting on her shoulder.
"I understand that well enough. But I don't see what connection there is between the club's weak cohesion and you revealing your identity."
"It's because you are the Duke of Johannes."
"Because I'm the Duke of Johannes?"
The Runaway Countess Returns
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January 12, 2022
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