——Sorry for the delay. I woke up today feeling dizzy and foggy-headed, with a completely stuffed nose — seems like I've come down with a summer cold. Anyway, I'll recover today and keep to two chapters. I'll make up the extra chapter tomorrow.
After two days of this tortoise-paced fellow going on a burst, the aftereffects are pretty nasty. I need some monthly tickets for comfort~
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Inside the small VIP dining room.
Graniov had his bodyguard light a thick black cigarette and took a deep drag before remarking coarsely, "A girl with real musical taste — much better than those last few who practically threw themselves into my arms the moment they got a gift."
"Boss Graniov, I don't think Miss Grace is all that fond of you," his close bodyguard murmured.
Graniov burst into loud laughter: "That's exactly what makes it a challenge. Don't you think there's something deeply satisfying about conquering a reserved girl with nothing but your own charm?"
"Charm…" The bodyguard had no response to that, but he understood perfectly well that being crude, uncultured, nouveau riche, and lecherous were nothing more than Boss Graniov's protective mask. Otherwise, how could he serve as one of the maintainers of Sturk's underground order?
At that moment, Grace entered through the door the attendant had pushed open.
Graniov hurriedly stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and asked with a hint of puzzlement, "Grace, your eyes look a bit red and swollen. Who's been giving you trouble?"
"No, it's just that I've been staying up late practicing for the concert lately. The cold wind just now made them feel dry and sore." Having already passed through the worst of her nightmares, Grace found it effortless to lie to Graniov — composed, seamless, without a single crack.
Concern appeared on Graniov's puffy face: "I'll have my family doctor mix up some eye drops and send them over tonight. Should help relieve the strain."
"Thank you, Mr. Graniov." Grace expressed her gratitude with a smile, then extended her hand to pass him the tightly folded note, while her left hand reached for the glass of red wine.
Graniov assumed his efforts were paying off — this reserved beauty may not dare show her feelings openly, but she'd written him a note instead. "Heh, music types are always the romantic sort."
Grace took a small sip of red wine and watched Graniov's movements as he opened the note, biding her time. Only when he was on the verge of seeing the contents but hadn't quite fully unfolded it did she leisurely set down her wine glass and say, "Mr. Graniov, a gentleman I ran into in the restroom asked me to pass this to you."
If she waited until Graniov saw that the contents weren't written by her, then her earlier ambiguous silence and the way she'd handed over the note would make it seem as though she and Mr. Evans had a deeper relationship — rather than being a stranger, as she'd claimed. But if she explained too early, a man of Graniov's wealth and status might not bother opening it himself and would hand it to his bodyguard instead, which would defeat Mr. Evans's purpose entirely. So the timing had to be precise. In matters like these, Grace felt that women had an innate instinct.
"Not from you…" Graniov asked in surprise, while his hand reflexively unfolded the last crease, revealing the single line of text on the note.
His voice cut off abruptly. His expression shifted several times, but he quickly recovered, smiling as he said, "Heh heh. Some fellow who can't let go of the past. He really went to a lot of trouble tracking you down. By the way, Grace — what did he look like?"
As he spoke, he struck a match and burned the note to ash in the ashtray, as though it were hardly worth mentioning.
The past? Grace thought in confusion, then said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Mr. Graniov. I had no idea my momentary kindness would cause you any trouble. Um… he had black hair and black eyes…"
Describing a person's appearance in words was inherently vague — one could only latch onto a few key features. Grace had no intention of giving an accurate description of Mr. Evans's appearance, so by the time she finished, all Graniov knew was that he was a young man with black hair, black eyes, and an air of elegant handsomeness. But fitting that description could apply to two or three men at any high-society gathering — a ten-minute stroll through the right crowd would turn up a handful.
Graniov waved his hand dismissively: "No matter. A trifle. Not worth worrying about. Grace, let's continue with our romantic dinner."
"Romantic…" The nausea crept back for Grace, but her heart felt lighter and more joyful than it ever had. By getting Mr. Evans's note in front of Graniov, she had completed her mission. As long as Mr. Evans chose not to expose her going forward, she could go on living this beautiful life.
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In a dark corner outside the Shark restaurant, Lucian — having already altered part of his appearance with a first-circle Arcane Magic illusion technique — quietly watched Graniov send Grace home in a gilded skiff adorned with silk ribbons and elaborate decorations.
"Friend, come out. No need to skulk around." Lucian suddenly withdrew his gaze and spoke in a low voice toward the empty, narrow alley.