Chapter 133: I Would Like to Marry Well Too
Allen did not wait for him to answer. He simply kept talking.
“I do not rember the exact details,” he said. “I just rember my cousin-uncle saying that Viscount’s house had originally been pretty run-down, and then all of a sudden… ah, forget it, I cannot rember!”
He waved a hand, giving up on the effort.
“Anyway, that was the general idea! Your family sounds like it is doing pretty well!”
Ryan looked at him.
Those light brown eyes were still very clear. The things Allen was saying really did seem like casual remarks, with no hidden aning behind them.
Ryan popped the strawberry into his mouth and chewed slowly.
anwhile, Allen had already resud his assault on the food on Ryan’s plate. He ate while talking, his words pouring out like a box that had finally been opened:
“Ah, let tell you, my family’s place is pretty shabby too. My father is a Baron, and his territory consists of three villages. We are poor enough to hear the coins rattle, and all three of those villages put together probably do not amount to as much as this hall. Since I was little, my biggest dream was to eat roast suckling pig. Not the kind where you get one tiny slice during a festival, but the kind where you hug the whole thing and gnaw on it!”
He took a huge bite of crisp roast pig skin and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. He looked as though he was not rely eating food, but tasting the most extravagant luxury in the world.
“Today, that dream finally ca true.”
Ryan watched him.
He was eating with wild abandon, his mouth greasy, his table manners nonexistent. A little sauce had sared onto the cuff of his formalwear, and he had not noticed. His cravat had gone crooked, and he had not noticed that either. There were crumbs stuck at the corner of his mouth, and he had not noticed those most of all.
But the light in his eyes was real.
That pure, utterly unconcealed joy was real.
Ryan lifted the pale golden alcoholic drink and took another sip.
It was faintly bitter at first, then sweet afterward, with a trace of citrus fragrance.
In the distance, on the dance floor, Lillian was still laboriously teaching Rex how to follow the steps. Rex stepped on her skirt again, and Lillian retaliated by stomping on him—this ti the very sa foot as before. The pain made him bare his teeth, but he did not dare let out a sound. The two of them stood there at the edge of the dance floor like two bickering cats, neither willing to be the first to let go.
On the other side, several more noble girls had gathered around Randall. He was still handling them with perfect ease, his smile impeccable, saying sothing now and then that made them laugh so hard they trembled like blossoms in the wind. But deep in his eyes was a faint weariness, so faint it was almost impossible to detect.
Evans was still sitting in the sa place. His plate remained untouched. His posture had not changed either, like a statue forgotten in a corner.
The music drifted gracefully on. Skirts whirled. Crystal chandeliers bathed the entire hall in light.
Allen finally shoved the last piece of roast pig skin into his mouth and licked his fingers with deep reluctance. Then he leaned back, rubbed his stomach, and let out a long breath.
“That feels good.”
He turned to Ryan, and suddenly there was sothing a little secretive in his expression.
“Hey, brother,” he said, lowering his voice as he leaned in, “you let eat all this good stuff, so I ought to repay you sohow.”
Ryan cast him a glance but said nothing.
Allen did not mind. He continued talking on his own.
“We are both going into the ruins anyway, right? And you know how a place like that is. Once you are inside, it is not just the monsters in there you have to deal with. You have to watch out for people too.” He jerked his chin toward the dance floor. “How many decent sorts do you think there are among that crowd?”
Ryan took another sip from his glass.
“So?”
“So—” Allen leaned even closer, his voice dropping lower still, “I can introduce you to the people I know.”
Ryan raised a brow. “You know people?”
“Of course I do!” Allen straightened up proudly, only to shrink back again and scratch his head. “Even if I am not especially strong and have no power or status, I do have one flaw—I love talking to people. In the one day I have been here, I have talked to pretty much everyone I could.”
He lifted a hand and pointed toward one side of the dance floor.
“See that green-haired one?”
Ryan followed the direction of his finger.
Near one of the pillars at the edge of the dance floor stood a young woman in a pale green gown. Her hair was a very light green, almost silver-gray, loosely pinned up behind her head, with a few stray strands hanging at her ears.
She was holding a glass and talking to the person beside her. The line of her profile was soft, but her chin was held slightly raised, carrying an inborn nobility.
“That is the young lady from the Gale Duke’s house. Her na is Vera,” Allen said quietly. “Wind-elent talent. They say she could cast high-tier wind magic at the age of ten. In the Eastern Region, she is the sort of genius everyone talks about.”
Ryan’s gaze lingered on the girl for a mont longer.
Vera.
That na had been on the list. The Gale Duke’s adopted daughter. Wind-attribute sensory talent.
“And over there, the one in the wine-red dress—” Allen pointed sowhere else.
There was a red-haired young woman standing at the center of a crowd. She was tall, strikingly beautiful, and when she smiled, her eyes seed to shimr. Everyone around her was smiling along with her. Three or four people stood nearby, listening to her talk.
“That one is from the Fla Duke’s side. What was her na again… Ah, right, Elaine. She is not a combat type. She studies ancient runes. They say she has deciphered several lost ruin inscriptions. Very sharp mind.”
Ryan gave a faint nod.
Allen pointed out several more people—one young knight in deep blue formalwear who stood ramrod straight, supposedly the captain of the guard for so Marquis’s household; one delicate-looking girl with gold-rimd spectacles, responsible for intelligence analysis and paperwork; and several others who looked difficult enough at a glance. Allen pointed them out too, but did not say much beyond smacking his lips.
“Keep your distance from those.”
Ryan did not ask why. He simply committed their faces to mory.
Once Allen had finished his introductions, he leaned back with both hands behind his head and suddenly let out a sigh.
“Ah, honestly, the young ladies from these great noble houses really are beautiful.”
He stared at the spinning skirts on the dance floor, his gaze turning a little distant.
“Every one of them has skin as white as snow, bright eyes, and a smile that could stop your heart. Nothing like back where I co from. Look up and it is a village girl, look down and it is another village girl. You can go a whole year without seeing a single one with any sparkle to her.”
Ryan gave him a glance.
When Allen said this, there was only simple, heartfelt admiration on his face. There was nothing lecherous in it, just the plain wonder of soone thinking, Ah, she is truly beautiful.
Ryan lifted his glass and took another sip.
“You are not bad-looking yourself,” he said suddenly. “Why did you never think about finding so noble young lady to marry into?”
Allen froze. He turned and stared at Ryan with wide eyes, as though he had never expected soone so taciturn and expressionless to say such a thing.
Then he scratched the back of his head and grinned.
“Ah, brother, that really speaks to my heart.”
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