Adversity and Chivalry (3) ***
As Laura descended from the stage, all eyes naturally turned to Mikhail, who was next to ascend the stage.
He sauntered up onto the stage.
He glanced around the audience for a moment, then picked up the 'Permanent VIP Membership' card that Laura had set down.
And then, like Nobita boasting to his friends about a new toy he bought, he flicked the card and opened his mouth.
"Well, did you all see this? This is something I made new this time. It's absolutely amazing."
His voice carried not a hint of the weight or dignity typical of a speech.
'Such an attitude in such an important setting.'
Jean-Claude let out a derisive laugh, as if in disbelief.
But that laugh did not last long.
Pat!
Behind Mikhail, the stage's pitch-black background suddenly began to glow brightly.
It was not a simple lighting magic.
A huge rectangle of light floated in the air, and within it, splendid and intricate patterns and letters appeared.
A 21st-century style presentation.
It was the result of Mikhail nagging and grinding down the few mages in his territory day and night.
"What is this card? Simple. It's the key to enjoying everything in our Far East Maritime Province Special Tourism Zone first, most comfortably, and most cheaply."
When Mikhail snapped his fingers, the image in the air smoothly transitioned to the next page.
On the screen, a picture of a top-class hotel suite appeared, along with the words '50% Discount' clearly displayed.
"The lodging here, restaurants, spas. Everything is half price. Alcohol? Of course, it's free. Reservations? Of course, top priority. While other guys are waiting in line, our special members get to enter right away."
A low murmur arose in the hall.
The conditions were groundbreaking.
But that level of benefit could be found in other salons or clubs in the capital.
"Of course, that's not all."
Mikhail grinned.
The screen behind him changed again.
This time, what appeared was a picture of a magnificent banquet hall.
"For all the banquets and auctions held here, you naturally have priority participation rights."
Mikhail pointed a finger towards the audience.
"If you have this card... right in this very place! You can even host a banquet yourself. The venue, the staff, we'll provide it all... you just need to invite your friends. What do you think, isn't that awesome?"
The murmuring gradually grew louder.
"And."
The screen transitioned once more.
This time, it was in the form of a document written with complex legal terminology.
"This membership. Transfer, sale, inheritance, lease. All of it is free."
At that moment, the air in the hall erupted as if it were boiling.
This was a perfect 'asset'.
An asset on par with or greater than the shares of a successful railroad or real estate in the capital.
At the very least, it was on a different level from the memberships of other salons or clubs.
"Of course, we'll sell other memberships later. In a way that your rank goes up if you spend a lot of money here. But!"
Mikhail held up his index finger.
"This 'VIP' membership is different. There are only 100 of these. Forever, only 100 will ever exist."
Desire rose in the air like a fog.
Jean-Claude heard the rough breathing erupting from those around him.
Someone was licking their lips without realizing it.
Mikhail watched all these reactions with great satisfaction.
"But, what if. What if you paid a high price for it, and it gets 'counterfeited'? What if this good-for-nothing arbitrarily issues a few more?"
He took out a small silver needle from his bosom.
"Don't worry."
Mikhail, without hesitation, pricked the tip of his own thumb with the needle.
A drop of blood formed.
"This… can never be counterfeited. And I can't make any more either."
Tuk!
The red drop of blood from his finger fell onto the pure white leather card he was holding.
At that moment.
Paaaaat!
The magic circle engraved on the card erupted in a flash of light that seemed to blind the eyes.
The light became a single great pillar and shot up into the air above the stage.
And then, under the roof of the tent, it spread out in the shape of a huge magic circle.
Everyone in the hall held their breath without realizing it.
This was a basic contract magic that one would know even if they had only learned magic as a basic liberal art.
There were only two terms in the contract.
The first was the guarantee of authenticity for the Far East Maritime Province Special Tourism Zone Permanent VIP Membership.
And if more than 100 were issued, the immediate and painful death of the guarantor, Mikhail.
Two concise clauses without any complex legal or administrative modifiers.
Furthermore, because it was a basic and fundamental magic, it was flawless, and therefore, a magic that was impossible to break to the point of being absolute.
Literally a contract signed with his life.
Mikhail stood under the glowing magic circle and said softly.
"Above all, this magic circle only reacts to my blood."
His voice was quiet, but the meaning it contained was absolute.
"Not to anyone else in this world, but only to me. To Mikhail's blood. It's natural, that's how contract magic works, isn't it?"
Mikhail saw the astonishment and the light of naked craving in the eyes of the crowd.
Terribly human gazes, mixed with awe and greed.
He smiled a very satisfied smile and held up seven fingers.
"Tonight, in this place, only seven will be sold."
As Jean-Claude took in this groundbreaking product presentation, a forgotten passage from a history book dusted itself off and rose in his mind.
'...The spoils system.'
An old law that the high-blooded nobles had banded together to abolish when vulgar merchants and the nouveau riche, who had nothing but money, coveted status.
But even the spoils system of that era could only buy a government post for one generation, which was not inheritable.
Even that could be demoted or revoked for various reasons.
But…
'This is different.'
That piece of leather was no government post.
It was a title.
It was no different from status itself, which formed the foundation of the empire.
A new form of title that could be perfectly freely inherited and transferred, without even the formal procedure of permission from the Emperor and the Parliament.
The surrounding air grew heavy with the weight of desire.
The number of noble families in the empire was roughly in the thousands.
But there were only 100 of those cards.
And only seven were being released in this place, right now.
Rarity.
That alone was enough to give it value.
'I can tell just by looking at this casino.'
Jean-Claude didn't want to admit it, but he had to.
This development project will succeed.
It must.
If so, the privilege that card guarantees would bring wealth and honor incomparable to that of a mere baron or viscount who survived on a pension without a fief.
In the future, even just leasing it out... no, what if he were to resell it?
Its value would be incalculable.
At least a treasure worth a string of cities.
But….
The moment he purchased that, it would be the same as kissing Mikhail's feet and pledging loyalty.
It was no different from a vassal contract.
As his thoughts reached that point, what came to Jean-Claude's mind was Anastasia.
'Your Highness…'
Even if he gained her favor, it would end with, at best, a one-night dream and a small gift of money.
Of course, that alone was enough.
Jean-Claude revered Anastasia and was prepared to offer her everything.
But no matter how devoted he was, he could not dream of a promotion in rank.
Not without some considerable merit.
To raise one's status, one had to achieve merit, and to achieve merit, one's status had to support it.
This terrible paradox.
This paradox was the very reason he had come to this backwater village in the Far East.
To build up merit, however small.
To build up his position like that, and one day, to become one of Anastasia's close aides.
'What if.'
A light of blazing desire lit up in Jean-Claude's eyes.
'If it were that membership! Not a mere Baron Farenberg! Better than now, being just the illegitimate son of the Count Vandam family…!'
I can go…!
To a higher place…!
Mikhail held the membership card high.
A smile was still on his face.
"Well then."
His voice swallowed all the noise in the hall.
"Let the auction begin."
Gulp.
Jean-Claude swallowed dryly without realizing it.
"The starting price is… 100,000 gold."
100,000.
That number was hammered into Jean-Claude's mind.
A price comparable to a decent piece of real estate in the capital…!
The hall stirred for a moment.
"100,000!"
But it was soon engulfed in a fiery heat again with someone's bid.
In contrast to the fervor inside the tent, Jean-Claude's mind became cold and clear.
He began to calculate.
All the assets he could mobilize right now.
The mansion in the capital inherited from his father, Count Vandam, whom he didn't particularly love.
If he put that up as collateral.
No, on the assumption that he sold it off completely.
If he scraped together this and that, squeezed out everything, and sold his very soul….
About 200,000.
That was all.
His entire life.
"110,000!"
"125,000!"
"130,000!"
The price was rising like crazy.
It was impossible to know if they recognized its value.
Some people bid as if it were for fun, as if it were just a numbers game.
Should he participate in the auction?
His reason screamed inside his burning brain.
Beyond his fading consciousness in the midst of his worries and anguish, the memory of his night with Her Highness Anastasia flashed like lightning.
'My dear.'
Her form, moving her hips above him like a shadow flickering in the candlelight.
The feel of her sweat-drenched, ebony-like hair tickling his cheek.
And the voice that whispered in his ear, sweet as honey and deadly as poison.
'You… are mine, Jean-Claude.'
That's right.
I am Her Highness's.
This body, this heart, even this soul.
And yet, I dare to have such presumptuous greed….
The bidding from the merchant guilds did not stop.
"160,000!"
"170,000!"
"175,000!"
Eventually, the bidding stopped at 175,000.
A taut tension.
No one readily called out the next number.
Perhaps because it was the first one, they couldn't properly assess its value.
"175,000 gold. Any more bids?"
The auctioneer's voice echoed through the hall.
"175,000."
Kung!
The sound of the gavel struck his heart.
'This is fine. This is how it should be.'
Jean-Claude tried to comfort himself.
Even if he won the bid, what if this development project failed?
That would be the end of his life.
So he just had to remain a faithful servant.
As he was consoling himself.
In his ear, he heard an auditory hallucination.
'How dare you….'
An enraged, ice-cold voice of Anastasia.
'How dare you try to betray me?'
'No! Your Highness! Anastasia! I… I am!'
Jean-Claude tried to make some excuse, but his consciousness just faded.
"175,000."
Kung!
Once again, the gavel struck his soul.
Cold sweat flowed down his spine like a waterfall.
His throat went dry, and he couldn't breathe.
Is this how it ends?
Like this, I will forever be the illegitimate son of the Count Vandam family.
A mere Baron Farenberg.
One of Her Highness's many horses, one among her men…!
"175,000..."
The moment the auctioneer raised the third gavel to announce the winning bid.
"180,000 GOLD!!!"
Jean-Claude spat out the words like a scream.
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Read 34 more chapters ahead on NovelDex!
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