Breath Control in the morning..

Enjoy a Yun-Qi tea time in the afternoon

Take elixirs in the afternoon.

Sleep in the night.

-William Blake-

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This wager ended in a draw.

Upon Her Majesty’s announcement, sighs began to leak out one after another from the masters gathered in the music room.

I could guess why their expressions were bleak.

‘Is it because of the stakes?’

I knew well how the Battle Royal Garden Party operated.

I had long heard the reason Her Majesty had insisted on inserting free duels into the court ball’s tea reception at Buckingham Palace.

Her Majesty Victoria arranged such an event to give opportunities to those of relatively low rank by distributing elixirs, so the future of the European Murim could be borne by them.

Allowing the senior masters of the martial world waiting in the music room to freely bet on the ensuing free duels was done in a similar spirit.

Part of the stakes wagered by the loser is awarded as fight money to the victor of the duel held at the garden party.

And, as in the match a moment ago, if the result is a draw.

Everyone who bet on either side must contribute part of their stakes without gaining anything.

“Attendants, have you recorded the elixirs, new recruits, and money that were wagered?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Everything has been noted without omission.”

“Good. After the ball ends, collect ten percent of the stakes and distribute it to the Little Heavenly Demon and Mr. Dynamite. If an item cannot be split, replace it with gold of equivalent value.”

“As you command.”

Even if it was under the pretense of fostering younger disciples, those who had put up valuable items as stakes could not hide their mixed feelings.

This is why gambling ruins families.

“That was nearly a disaster…”

Watson breathed a sigh of relief as an attendant returned the Snow Halation Iron dagger she had wagered.

“I didn’t know you took gambling so seriously. To think you’d stake a gifted item.”

“W-well, I was sure you’d win…!”

“No. It’s a blessing you didn’t bet the shawl, at least.”

“…Heh! My bad, Holmes.”

Watson grabbed both ends of the shawl woven from the Ancient Vicuna Wool and covered her reddened face.

That seemed enough teasing, so I let it drop.

It was unexpected that a wager arose over whether Nobel or I would take the Blue-Eyed White Snake, but since I didn’t lose, it didn’t matter.

On the contrary, I should be glad for the tidy sideline profit.

“It wasn’t as if I were squeezing the destitute who lived from hand to mouth; rather, I was collecting from the wealthy masters of the great clans and noblesses who lived off costly elixirs. Hence, my conscience could rest easily.”

“Thanks to Her Majesty stepping in as judge, the share given to the parties has roughly doubled.”

Half of that ten percent of the stakes, that is, five percent, will be paid to me.

They surely wagered expensive elixirs and such, so even securing five percent would amount to a considerable sum.

That’s what I thought, but then.

“Do you think I’d need such paltry change? Take it, Little Heavenly Demon.”

“Me?”

“I permit it. Attendants, pay the full ten percent of the stakes to the Little Heavenly Demon.”

Suddenly my share doubled.

“I’ve obtained everything I need. Let’s go, Emil.”

“…Yes, brother.”

Nobel opened the bag his younger brother carried, took out a glass vial, and tossed it to me.

“This is…”

A container holding a viscous liquid that gave off an unusual aura.

An elixir. A type I had never seen before.

“I’ll repay this debt in the near future.”

Lastly, Nobel muttered something incomprehensible and left the music room with his brother.

“…A request for a duel? If not—”

Truly a madman called an addict of central-path dueling.

He was a man my sensibilities as a model English gentleman found hard to understand.

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Emil hurriedly chased after Nobel, who had left the music room at a brisk pace without looking back.

“Brother! What on earth are you thinking! Giving two pints of Millennium Nitroglycerin to a nobody you’ve never seen before!”

Emil couldn’t understand.

Why his brother would hand a precious elixir to a martial artist he had just met, someone far below Emil’s own level, the Little Heavenly Demon.

Of course, he had watched both of their duels entirely.

He had seen how the fortunate Little Heavenly Demon extracted only the Blue-Eyed White Snake’s venom and handed the living snake over to Alfred intact.

Though his pride was wounded, Emil could interpret the Little Heavenly Demon’s action as yielding the snake to Nobel.

However, there was no need to hand over Millennium Nitroglycerin as payment.

Moreover, Alfred had just left the music room declaring he would “repay the debt.”

That meant he intended to give more gifts beyond the elixir he had nonchalantly tossed to the Little Heavenly Demon.

“Couldn’t you have just handed over a few coins and been done with it?”

“He knew the value of the Blue-Eyed White Snake exactly. Didn’t you see? He deployed the Ulster Classic.”

Emil nodded heavily.

“I never imagined there was a martial artist besides you who had mastered such an explosive Kung-Fu.”

Though he said that, Emil still clenched his teeth as if he couldn’t be convinced.

“Still, brother, you’re a businessman — not a philanthropist.”

“…A philanthropist, huh. Considering my purpose, that isn’t entirely wrong.”

Emil felt like he was losing his mind.

What on earth had the Little Heavenly Demon done to make his brother, who had shown no interest in ordinary martial artists, behave like this?

A situation utterly beyond understanding.

Emil bit his lip and tried to control his expression.

“If you had left it to me, I would have soothed him appropriately and brought back the Blue-Eyed White Snake.”

“Don’t be foolish. The Little Heavenly Demon is not someone you can handle.”

Alfred’s voice, saying that, sounded oddly relieved.

An expression he had never shown even when with his brothers.

“…”

Staring at his brother’s departing back, Emil squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t want to admit it.

That the emotion boiling inside him was jealousy.

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While the Battle Royal garden party continued, I leisurely filled my stomach with tea and sandwiches.

Thanks to the quality of my martial garb, the internal wounds I suffered while deploying the Explosive Reactive Qi Armour weren’t severe, so I focused on replenishing my depleted Elixir Field.

“Holmes. You’re unusually ravenous today.”

“The elixir tea I drank in the garden had potent effects.”

“What kind of tea was that?”

“One drinks it and is immediately stricken by intense hunger and thirst.”

When I said that, Watson nodded.

“No wonder. So that’s what happened. I didn’t even know…”

She seemed to understand why the attendees who went out to the garden traded jabs over a plate of refreshments.

“It’s hard to call it compensation, but it seems to stimulate digestion and metabolism. Once you taste the tea, you end up eating at least double.”

All the refreshments provided in the music room were prepared with enormous care.

There were dozens of kinds of sweets alone.

All prepared with expensive ingredients like precious elixir fruits harvested from the wild.

Cake stands were arranged according to the number of guests, and on them the royal pastry kitchen, the pastry department, and Britain’s renowned patisseries had neatly plated cakes and desserts.

From Gunter’s of Berkeley Square, famed as Great Britain’s premier confectioner, to Waud’s.

Delicate, sweet desserts made by French and Italian artisans satisfied my and Watson’s palates with their natural, elegant flavors.

Among the extravagantly sugared desserts, the most eye-catching were the ice creams.

Ice creams flavored with bergamot, curaçao, and exotic notes like institia, curry, and cucumber were molded into fruit-shaped forms and set in sugar baskets, with seals of ice from the North Sea Ice Palace placed around them to maintain temperature so they wouldn’t melt in warm weather.

Ice cream is already costly to produce, and using expensive ice crystals just to maintain temperature was the very height of luxury.

I would have liked to get one with Her Majesty’s permission, but I hesitated to do anything that would embarrass myself in front of Watson.

“Sorry, Holmes. I do worry about your condition, but I simply can’t resist… Please understand.”

“It’s not such a serious internal injury, after all.”

Even while I performed acupuncture and emergency blood-point treatment, Watson’s mouth watered as attendants refilled the cake stands with new pastries and sandwiches.

Thanks to her vigorous appetite, Watson finished treatment faster and more easily than usual and finally began sampling the refreshments one by one.

A cup of cold black tea sat before her.

It seemed she had been too anxious while I was in the garden to touch it.

How hungry she must have been.

If I’d finished the duel and returned earlier, Watson wouldn’t have gone hungry.

“Eat slowly so you won’t get indigestion.”

Maintaining minimal etiquette yet eating with a soldier’s vigor, Watson shoved a small pie into my mouth instead of answering.

“…Not bad.”

I had heard rumors of Alphonse Gouffe, the royal pastry chef’s outstanding skill, but I hadn’t expected to taste his creations.

Truly, a choice befitting Her Majesty Victoria, famed for her gourmet tastes.

I’m not one to fuss much about flavors, but watching Watson enjoy tea time with a happy face made me feel full in spirit.

However, restraint is important at all times.

“Watson. Please don’t overeat. There’s still a long way before the ball ends.”

“…Ah.”

Watson at last recalled the court ball’s schedule and reluctantly nodded.

Someone ignorant of the situation would tilt their head at what I just said.

If there’s still plenty of time until the ball ends, then now

“Right. I’ll restrain myself. Otherwise all the effort we’ve put into training you will be for nothing.”

This is as far as our leisurely chatter can go.

The Forbidden Palace’s royal ball is an official event that continues without pause until dawn.

It is a test of a martial artist’s refinement as well as stamina and concentration.

When tea time ends, we’ll return to the ballroom and begin dancing again, and after midnight we’ll have to sit at the table once more.

Just as my final trial at Buckingham Palace would be a Sword Debate Chess against the Queen, Watson too had a final gate to pass.

“Remember: once seated, I can’t help you either.”

To face the dinner.

“…I will stay at the table until the meal is finished.”

Watson, reaffirming the results of her training and steeling herself.

A faint aura of essence covered the fork she held.