CHAPTER 649

【 THE SHARP-TONGUED YOUNG VISCOUNTESS 】

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“Cough, cough… Miss Sophia, please don’t be so upset! You know what they say: man is made of iron, and food is made of steel. You’ve hardly eaten anything on our way back, and it’s not good for your health!”

Silence.

Demacia waited a few seconds, but no sound came from the other side of the door. He cleared his throat again, a bead of sweat forming at his temple.

“I brought some special treats from the Elven Forest. They’re absolutely delicious… I’m sure you’ll love them!”

Still no reply.

Demacia considered turning back. But the thought of retreating under that young noble’s cold stare later made him grit his teeth.

“Well then, I’ll just come in now!”

He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace and adjusted his grip on the tray.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath, then reached for the handle.

The polished brass knob felt cool under his palm as he twisted it, and the latch gave a soft click.

A faint scent of flowers and old wood drifted out from within, mingling with the delicate sweetness of the pastries he carried. Straightening his back, Demacia stepped through the doorway.

As his eyes adjusted to the softer lighting, he took in the room’s interior. It was a harmonious blend of two distinct styles: the graceful elegance of elven aesthetics and the refined Western design reminiscent of Earth. A magical chandelier hung overhead, while white decorative pillars were carved with fine reliefs, and pale yellow curtains woven from crypt spider silk framed the windows.

Most of the furniture was crafted from polished wood, its surface glinting with the natural luster of fine elven craftsmanship. Each piece bore the unique touch of an artisan’s hand, from the carved patterns to the flowing curves of the chair legs. Scattered around the room were hollowed jade ornaments and decorative relics.

Many of these had been recovered by players from long-forgotten elven ruins, and their presence lent the space an air of refinement and sublime dignity.

At the far end of the room, before an intricately designed lamp, stood a half-elf girl who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen. Her rare flaxen hair shimmered under the lamplight, cascading down her shoulders like strands of silk.

She was not particularly tall, yet her straight posture gave her an air of poise and quiet dignity, the kind of natural grace that only the children of those in power seemed to possess.

Her slender fingers were gently tracing the ornate patterns etched into the silver lamp, her gaze soft yet intent, filled with both admiration and curiosity.

The faint creak of the door opening did not draw her attention. She neither turned nor spoke, her focus remaining fixed on the lamp’s shimmering runes.

Demacia, however, found himself unable to look away.

As one who bore elven blood, her beauty was self-evident.

Many could be called beautiful in this game, but few possessed this kind of presence, so composed and noble.

The elves back in the Elven Forest were known for their ethereal charm, but their aura leaned more toward serenity and elegance, unlike the dignified nobility radiating from this girl. As for human players, well, their attempts at refinement often fell short, as many ended up looking like those overeager salesmen wearing suits far too expensive for them.

So far, Demacia had only met one other person who carried such a presence—Big Sister Zero.

Of course, Big Sister’s aura was far more commanding, almost overwhelming. The girl before him had the same bearing, but within her aura lingered a trace of youthful immaturity.

His gaze drifted from her serene figure to her attire, a pristine elven dress embroidered with delicate gold thread. Then his eyes fell upon the torn, slightly stained noble gown hanging neatly on a nearby rack.

Demacia chuckled softly.

“Miss Sophia, I must say, that elven clothing suits you far better. I told you before, not everyone can pull off a corseted gown. Your figure looks much better in these flowing dress.”

At his words, the girl’s hand froze briefly.

Her eyes flicked toward her own flat chest, and her expression quickly turned cold.

Turning slightly, she cast him a frigid glance from her ash-gray eyes, but her lips curved into an elegant smile.

“Mr. Demacia, I don’t recall granting you permission to enter. Your skin truly is a marvel—it seems to grow thicker every time I see you. Tell me, can you will it as you please? Perhaps even make it vanish entirely when convenient?”

Demacia’s smile stiffened.

Sophia’s sharp gaze swept over him from head to toe. Her eyes paused briefly on his slicked-back red hair before she let out a soft sigh.

“I see you finally changed that hairstyle of yours. Honestly, I almost didn’t recognize you now, as if you were wearing a disguise.”

She studied him for another moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod of approval.

“Mhm. Mhm. This definitely suits you better. I swear, your previous look, though… goodness. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought I’d run into a goblin who had just crawled out of the aftermath of a magical explosion the first time we met.”

She tilted her head and added with an almost innocent smile, “Still, while you now look halfway decent, your temperament is still as dreadful as a goblin’s. I’d wager even the undead would hesitate to rise if you walked through a graveyard at night.”

Demacia’s mouth twitched.

Her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his outfit—a neatly pressed steward’s uniform, immaculate and well-fitted. For a moment, she appeared genuinely surprised.

Then, with a delicate lift of her hand to her lips, she let out a soft laugh.

“Oh my, what’s this? Did you finally replace that reeking armor you used to wear? Good for you. You now no longer look like a destitute dog-smelling mercenary.”

She leaned back slightly, studying him from a new angle.

“Though, now that I look at it more closely… this outfit seems oddly familiar.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Ah, yes, that’s it. I’ve seen something almost identical on the male escorts at the Moulin Rouge. If someone didn’t know better, I might mistake you for one of them—perhaps one who managed to escape.”

Demacia’s face darkened. His gaze dropped to his own clothes, and for the first time, he found them strangely uncomfortable.

But Sophia wasn’t finished yet.

“Hmm? Did you spray perfume too? It smells rather high-end. Alas, you might have used a bit too much. Still, I suppose you needed to cover up that lingering scummy scent of yours. Oh, do forgive me. ‘Scummy’ may not be strong enough to capture the full essence of your character.”

Demacia instinctively sniffed at his collar, his face growing gloomier by the second.

“A-Ahem… Miss Sophia, could we perhaps change the subject?” he said through gritted teeth, forcing a dry laugh that sounded more like a plea than a joke.

Her smile returned, bright and radiant enough to momentarily daze him despite the sting of her words.

“Of course…”

Then, without warning, her expression hardened, the warmth in her voice vanishing like sunlight behind storm clouds.

“Fine. Let us talk, then,” she said coldly. “I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. I’ve told you everything about what happened in Maple Leaf Territory. So why have you not kept your word? You were supposed to send me safely to the Empire’s rear lines, yet here I am—trapped in this unfamiliar port, caged like a prisoner.”

Her words cut through the air, sharp and deliberate.

“Tell me, Mr. Demacia, is this what you call elven hospitality? Or are you simply proving the human nobles right—that your kind has indeed fallen, becoming deceitful, self-serving creatures of the abyss?”

“This… this is all a misunderstanding!” Demacia protested, nearly dropping the tray of pastries as he scrambled to defend himself. “You can’t believe what those human nobles say! They’re monsters in fine clothes—people who’d eat others alive and still smile without leaving anything, not even the bones!”

Sophia let out a dry laugh, one that dripped with equal parts amusement and disdain.

“Oh, Mr. Demacia, have you forgotten that I am also a noble?” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You see, our brains are meant to be used, not simply carried around as decoration. But judging by your reasoning, yours must be a cheap imitation—something crudely assembled in one of the lowest workshops of the Kingdom. Try using it occasionally. Otherwise, I fear it might rust from disuse.”

Demacia: “…”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“T-That’s different! You—you have elven blood! You’re a half-elf!” he stammered, clinging to the argument like a drowning man to driftwood.

“…Elven blood?” she repeated softly, her tone low and mocking as her lips curved into a faint smirk. “I would rather not have such a fragile, ornamental bloodline. It might suit you better, though. Someone of your intellect would make a lovely decorative vase at the Moulin Rouge. No, on second thought, perhaps not even that. The vases there are far too refined. You, on the other hand, resemble something crudely molded by an orc’s muddy foot.”

Demacia exhaled heavily, pressing his palm against his face. “Miss Sophia… could you stop ridiculing me for once?” he asked wearily.

Sophia widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Heavens, you actually thought I was insulting you? I was being generous with my praise.” Her tone was honey-sweet but edged with steel. “Though clearly, despite your elaborate facade, your simple mind still struggles to comprehend a compliment.”

She leaned slightly forward, her ashen eyes gleaming with cynical amusement. “Please, try using that part of your body above your neck to reflect on your worth. Otherwise, tell me—aside from reminding the world how beautiful it is without you, what purpose do you actually serve?”

Demacia’s lips parted again, but nothing came out this time.

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, his composure finally cracking.

But when his eyes met Sophia’s cool, assessing gaze—which wordlessly said, See? There it is. Your true nature showing—he caught himself. Taking two deep breaths, he forced his expression back into something resembling a smile.

“Miss Sophia,” he said slowly, every word strained, “what exactly do you want?”

Sophia: “…”

“No,” she shook her head.

“That is precisely what I wish to ask you.”

She took a deliberate step closer, her gaze unwavering.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“Why do you insist on keeping me here?”

“We only want to protect you,” Demacia said quickly. “Of course, we also hoped to learn more about the current situation in Maple Leaf Territory through you.”

“Hah, protect me?” Sophia gave a cold laugh. “I am a noble of the Empire, the heiress of House Wells. Do you think someone of my standing needs the protection of elves?”

“But weren’t you already exiled from your family? You’re a half-elf with nowhere to go. I’m sure you understand what happens to someone like you in human lands. And besides… your brother planned to offer you as an offering to the Borderlord in exchange for more power. Are you still loyal to such a family? You told us all of this yourself, remember?”

Demacia’s voice rose slightly at the end.

At that, Sophia fell silent. Her lashes lowered as she looked down, the proud line of her shoulders softening for a brief moment.

A few seconds later, she lifted her head again. Her back straightened, and her voice regained its strength.

“No. I was not expelled. It was Karl, that despicable scum, acting on his own. He has neither the right nor the ability to inherit Father’s title. He will only drag our Household into ruin and bring suffering upon our people!”

“As the rightful heir of House Wells, I am the rightful successor—the future Viscount of the Wells Household! The Borderlord is evil, and our house must not side with him. Though he may be our lord who pledged our allegiance, we are also citizens of the Empire! We have the right to choose loyalty to the Empire over him!”

Her ashen eyes blazed with conviction as she straightened her posture, every word laced with restrained impatience.

“Mr. Demacia, I will say this one last time—stop confining me and uphold your promise.” Her tone was sharp, almost cutting.

“Send me back to Imperial territory at once. Stop wasting my time with meaningless delays. Every moment you keep me here is a moment lost.”

She took a step forward, chin lifted proudly as if daring him to argue.

“I must seek Duke Lawson’s aid as soon as possible. He is the only one with the power to expose my brother’s deceit and restore order to my household. So unless you intend to trick me all along, do as you said and let me go.”

Demacia looked at the determined half-elven girl and sighed helplessly.

There was resignation in his expression, but also hesitation.

After all, what she said was not entirely unreasonable. And to be honest, as a player, Demacia himself was not exactly sure what the human nobility system in Elven Kingdom was supposed to be.

Then again… could her demand possibly be part of a hidden quest? Perhaps helping her would unlock the next stage of the storyline.

Still, as the chief officer of Amway Trade Group and one of the players most experienced in dealing with human factions, Demacia had some understanding of the inner workings of the nobility of Holy Maniya Empire through his contacts with black market merchants, even if he rarely dealt with nobles directly.

In his view, the Empire was a typical Western-style feudal nation—like something out of earth’s late medieval era—only twisted by the presence of magic and divine power.

However, compared to the Nobles from earth, its class divide and wealth gap were far more extreme.

To Demacia, it was downright absurd. If this happened in the real world, peasants who were treated the same manner would have already revolted long ago. But here in Seigües, the commoners could do nothing but endured their misery without resistance.

Perhaps that was due to the suppressive influence of extraordinary powers, or simply the game’s world design. Either way, he felt Sophia was being far too optimistic. Something about her logic didn’t sit right with him, though he couldn’t pinpoint what. His instincts told him that her plan would not end well.

Besides, even if he wanted to send her to the Empire…

It was not as though players could travel that far yet. Their exploration range didn’t even reach the innermost Imperial lands.

Moreover, abandoning her in some random city was out of the question too. A lone noble girl with elven blood in this world travelling all by herself? Demacia shuddered just thinking about what might happen to her.

Did she really think the human cities were as safe as those from earth? As if a girl could just wander around in pajamas at three in the morning without trouble?

Sighing at her stubborn expression, Demacia was about to speak when he suddenly sensed something. His eyes turned toward the door.

There came a knock.

“Who is it? Didn’t I say no one could interrupt me for now?” Demacia called irritably.

“It’s me, Li Mu.”

The familiar voice made Demacia’s eyes light up.

“Brother Mu!” he exclaimed, rushing to open the door.

“Bro, you’re finally back! So, what did Alice and the Big Sister say?”

Li Mu glanced inside. His gaze landed on the half-elven girl, who looked back at him warily and with curiosity. He gave a faint, reassuring smile before turning to Demacia.

“They’re here,” he said. “They want to meet Sophia.”

Stepping aside, he revealed two familiar figures standing behind him.

Demacia straightened at once, eyes widening.

“Big Sis—uh, Lady Zero! Lady Alice! G–Good day!”

He stood at attention and gave a proper salute, his behavior suddenly obedient and formal. Clearly, he had practiced this moment more than once.

Eve gave him a polite nod. Alice frowned slightly but also inclined her head in acknowledgment.

Then Demacia turned back toward Sophia, who was peering curiously toward the door. With a grin, he gestured invitingly.

“Miss Sophia, there are two distinguished guests who wish to see you.”

“Guests?” she repeated with a scoff.

Lifting her chin slightly, she looked toward the doorway.

Moments later, two beautiful elves stepped into view.

Sophia’s eyes narrowed with a mix of pride, curiosity, and suspicion.

Meeting her gaze, Evé smiled gently and said,

“Miss Sophia, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Zero.”

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