Thump! Thump! Thump!
Following a series of three somewhat heavy chords as a finale, Snow turned his head and gave the butler a look. The butler, who had been standing by the phonograph, immediately lifted the needle.
"Did you get it all recorded?" Snow stood up, turning the large "horn" above the piano to one side and shifting his gaze toward the butler, who was handling the freshly recorded record.
Thanks to Roselle's improvements to the phonograph, recording one's own records at home had become possible. While such records certainly weren't as exquisite as industrially produced vinyl and had a shorter lifespan, they were more than sufficient for home listening.
"The grooves are very clear. This should be the best one we've recorded over the past two days." The butler carefully placed the record on a storage rack. Looking at the row of dozens of records, he asked with some confusion, "Sir, is there a reason why you're recording so many?"
"Yes. I have an event tonight that I estimate will take about two hours. Although the location is also in the West District, I might not be able to return in time if anything unexpected happens. Therefore, during this period, you must ensure that music plays without interruption in the room, preferably covering the entire space, to ensure our guest remains sufficiently stable." Snow gave detailed instructions while maintaining his "Secrecy" power over the room, ensuring that Lanevus couldn't overhear even a single detail.
"As you wish, sir." The butler seemed to realize the importance of the matter, solemnly counting each record once again. As he listened to them, he mentally planned where each record and its corresponding phonograph should be placed.
...
"Has he finally left?" In the evening, watching Snow appear on the street in formal attire, Lanevus, who had been sitting by the window, quirked the corners of his mouth.
But immediately, the sound of piano music erupted from every corner of the room almost simultaneously. Lanevus's half-finished smile froze.
"Dammit!" Lanevus cursed in anger, but he wasn't disappointed. In truth, he was well aware of Snow's plans for tonight, including the storage of the records. Though the True Creator's consciousness had brought him many inconveniences, during the months of fusion, he had partially merged with that consciousness. This meant that whatever the True Creator saw, he could see as well!
Snow's secrecy could block his eavesdropping, but could it block the True Creator's gaze upon His own Blessed?
'However, you forgot one thing...' Lanevus allowed the True Creator's consciousness in his chest to throb with excitement. He lay back lazily on the soft bed, forcibly maintaining a painful smile. 'No matter how beautiful a piece is, one will eventually grow tired of it if it's played incessantly on loop!'
...
Inside the brightly lit Intis Embassy in Loen, the scent of perfume and alcohol mingled with a melodious tune and spread to every corner of the ballroom. A ball was currently in full swing.
Regardless of which world it was, it was common for embassy staff to mingle with local celebrities to sway the public opinion of their own country. Bakerland treated this as a form of enjoyment. During his years in Backlund, he frequently hosted various balls, inviting bankers, factory owners, wealthy businessmen, prominent lawyers, and lesser merchants.
He would instill Intis values in them, telling them of Intis's prosperity and openness, explaining that the country was no longer dominated by nobles and that its masters were bankers, lawyers, and factory owners just like them.
Well, there was nothing new under the sun. Regardless of how much truth lay behind those claims, if it could lead a fraction of those wealthy individuals--who would always remain inferior to the noble class in Loen--to "awaken," it would cause enough trouble for the country's decaying political system. In fact, the current tension between Loen's new and old nobility was partially due to the influence of Intis ideology.
Of course, today's ball was a bit different from the usual. The reason Bakerland remained in the embassy was to serve as a target, drawing attention away from the group that was actually acting.
'A pity I'll soon be bidding farewell to Backlund's conservative ladies and wives!' Bakerland shook his head lightly, unable to help but feel a surge of resentment toward that little detective who dared to resist. Were it not for him, MI9 would never have learned of his connection with the Zmanger Gang!
'Rosago will give him a proper lesson! Now, my task is to enjoy my final night in Backlund!' At that thought, Bakerland rubbed his face vigorously, returning to his best state for charming women.
His gaze swept across the ballroom, searching for suitable prey. He excluded the wives and daughters he had already interacted with; he preferred something fresh. Many believed he gave "opportunities" to lesser merchants to earn their gratitude, but in reality, few noticed that those merchants often had a beautiful daughter or wife. Of course, even if they did notice, few cared. Those merchants were clearly pragmatic enough to weigh the potential benefits of attending an embassy ball against the risks their wives and daughters might face.
Bakerland's gaze continually swept across various beauties before his mind suddenly seemed to lock up, like a processor struggling with a 3A game. At the edge of his vision, a young lady in a black evening dress was elegantly lingering in a corner of the ballroom, as if waiting for a gentleman to invite her to dance.
She had smooth, flowing ink-black hair, and her slightly rounded face gave her an adorable, innocent air. Her eyes, filled with curiosity and anticipation, seemed to sparkle with starlight. Her perfect body curves made even a seasoned lecher like him feel a surge of heat.
Bakerland approached her without the slightest hesitation, engaging her in conversation with practiced familiarity. With his keen eyes, he could see the girl didn't quite appreciate his humor, but that didn't matter. After a brief mention of her family's business and his own status as an ambassador, the innocent young lady could only offer two tears and agree to accompany him to his room to taste the 1286 vintage Aurmir wine.
In the past, Bakerland wouldn't have used such a crude method. He would have preferred to slowly peel away their conservative shell, finding it a more satisfying achievement. But unfortunately, he had no time to slowly strip this innocent girl of her conservative attire.
Then again, wasn't there a certain thrill in tearing it off by force?
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]