Lucien stopped just in front of the carriage, one hand raised. With an ever perfect smile, he greeted every person in the crowd as if they mattered to him personally.
Then he turned, holding out a hand to the carriage.
And out stepped someone Stephen recognized instantly.
His older sister.
The Princess of Eldoria.
Silviette Eldoria.
She took Lucien's hand with the grace of a queen already crowned, and together, they walked toward the banquet steps. The crowd parted around them like the Red Sea. No one spoke. No one dared even breathe. The only sound was the rustle of silk and the click of heels against stone.
Stephen also hadn't taken a breath since he saw Lucien leave the carriage, and now he was about to throw up as his brother turned directly to him.
Staring him dead in the eye.
Then with a smile, he turned away.
Entering into the banquet hall.
The roar of the crowd, their shrieking wails that had once flooded his mind, almost putting him in dazed state. Vanished as they all returned into the banquet hall, following the Eldoria siblings like die-hard fans.
As the noise left his mind, Stephen's breath returned, and he panted like he'd just run over a hundred miles.
"Are you good?" Tello asked, frowning. "Don't tell me you're sick or something. I cannot and will not do this alone."
"I'm fine," Stephen said, though he was still staring at the banquet doors.
The banquet was a high tier function, one that if done right could net him enough money and connections within the city. But with that level of prestige, came an even steeper downfall. If any of his siblings leaked that he was the disowned prince of Eldoria to anyone there, his entire plan would be ruined.
Stephen clicked his tongue.
He needed a safeguard. Some kind of contingency. Speed? Maybe if they wrapped things up fast enough, the damage wouldn't matter. Or maybe he had to face it head-on, go to Lucien, and ask him not to speak.
Either way, things had just gotten a hell of a lot harder.
"The banquet's already started," Tello said. "Shouldn't we be moving?"
Returning to his mask of calm. Stephen exhaled, then with a smile. "How much are we looking at for the entire project?" He began walking up the stairs.
"Hm? Didn't I say this before?" Tello shook his head softly. "About fifty thousand gold would do, it might be a little over, but only by a couple hundred at most."
"Make it seventy thousand." Stephen said.
"Are you out of your mind? That's twenty thousand above the first agreed price."
"The new investors won't know that, also. We got played by Cillian. Giving him twenty percent for basically free, we need to recoup that."
"We?"
"I," Stephen said with a sigh. "I got played by Cillian. Happy now?"
"Accountability." Tello smirked. "It'll take you far in this world."
"I hate you," Stephen said with a laugh, as the both of them entered the banquet hall. Moving through large platinum cased doors.
Earlier, when Stephen said the easiest way to get rich was to leverage sex, he might've been wrong. Because no doubt the easiest way to get rich was to rob a banquet such as this.
They peered into the halls of gold and silver. Noblemen and women stood in every corner, some gathered near towering buffets with plates in hand, others tucked into seating areas deep in business talk.
But no matter where you looked, they all had one thing in common.
Each was dressed in a different color of expensive jewelry. Like peacocks in tailored suits, it was clear they hadn't come to eat or talk, they'd come to shine.
"Maybe these chrome glasses aren't worth anything..." Tello muttered, slipping them off.
"That's life for you," Stephen said, eyes roaming the crowd. "There's always someone richer."
"And I'm guessing..."
"Yep. Those are our targets."
They started moving, cutting through the grand hall. Ahead was a large staircase leading to a higher floor and beyond that, another set of stairs winding up even further.
They decided to scour the first floor first, of course meeting with Cillian's colleagues who he wanted specifically to enter the business was their priority, but that didn't mean they couldn't find someone else to sell a pipe dream to.
"How does half sound to you?" Tello asked, staring around, but never lingering on anything or anyone. "Fifty percent to them and the other fifty to us, would be the most realistic push."
"That would mean you'd have to sell thirty percent for the remaining sixty five thousand."
"True..."
"Try pushing for eighty," Stephen said. "Twenty for us. That way you have a wider margin to play with."
Just then, a server passed by with a tray of champagne. Tello grabbed a glass. Stephen took one too, though he wouldn't drink it, just holding it helped sell the noble illusion.
They moved on.
"Eighty... hmm. I could probably do that, but that would mean I'd be selling them fifteen percent for fifteen thousand each."
"Now you're getting the hang of it," Stephen said, though his attention hung on a woman that passed by him, her elegant grey dress flowing by like smoke.
It caught his eye for just a second too long.
Tello caught the glance. "Focus, loverboy," he muttered, not even bothering to look. "We're not here to get enchanted."
Stephen cleared his throat. "Just appreciating the craftsmanship."
"Sure," Tello said. "Just don't start bidding."
Then after a moment. "Back to more pressing matters. That would leave us with sixty five thousand, adding Cillian's." He said, "that seems fine enough, no?"
They continued to search, through veils of diamond and emerald. But no one on the lower deck looked vulnerable enough. Each guest was either too absorbed in their own reflections, or too alert to their surroundings. Either way, there were no cracks to slip through.
Maybe there was no point in still searching.
So they stopped, then went toward the steps, walking up the flight.
"No. It's not." Stephen said, putting the champagne glass on the stairs handle. Tello had already downed his a while back.
"What!?" Tello glanced around, then lower. "What do you mean, you should be lucky if we even push past fifty in the first place."
"It's five thousand off. It's not that big of a deal, but it means you aren't capable."
Then he added. "I want to see how well you can negotiate. You used my line against me earlier right?" Stephen smirked. "Let's see how much else you've learned from me."
They reached the top of the flight. Off to the side, nestled among a row of cushioned chairs on the upper deck, a hand rose.
"Boys, over here!" came a familiar voice.
Stephen recognized it instantly. Cillian.
He strode forward, a cool smile painted across his face as be made way toward the table overflowing with nobles.
Tello stayed back, slightly seething. "Let's see how much you've learned from me," he imitated Stephen's voice, then lower. "That sonofabi—"
"Tello!" Cillian called, "you not coming?"
"I'll be right there," Tello said, jogging over to them.
At the table were six men including Cillian and at a glance it was easy to recognize who exactly were the potential investors the nobleman had brought over.
But also at the table was an irregular, a man, as young as Tello sitting there. And in the banquet where it was impossible to see a man not wearing a suit, he was dressed in a simple black top. Long dark hair falling over his shoulders.
Neither of them addressed him. As long as he didn't speak, he might as well not have existed.
"All right, boys," Cillian said, turning back to his colleagues—lords of various lands, owners of booming businesses and ancestral manors. "This is the newest thing coming out of the nightlife."
He gestured at Stephen. "A brothel with the sole purpose of taking Verre out of the game."
The four men looked back at them with stern glances, and not even the smallest smile.
Stephen returned their stares. Holding your own in a room like this wasn't easy, but he could manage. His brother, on the other hand, looked like a cat being dragged toward a bath.
"Cillian's filled us in on the basics," said one of them. Ralph Longvarn, owner of half the estates in Ipula. "And we'll admit, if done right, this could succeed. It's fresher, it's bigger, and the quality... it's hard to deny."
"I appreciate that you can see the value," Stephen said. "May I assume that sentiment's shared among the rest of you?"
They nodded, one after the other.
"Then I suppose it's time to start negotiations," Stephen said, turning with a smile. "Tello?"
Tello froze. Saying it in theory was one thing... starting it in motion in front of four cutthroat businessmen was another.
He gulped. If he pitched the numbers wrong and Cillian called it out, everything would crumble.
He turned to Ralph.
"We'd like to offer you all... sixty percent of our company... for twenty—"
Bong.
From the corner of the room, loud and clear was the sound of a giant bell ringing. It came through the upper deck like a ripple, going through the entire banquet like a wave.
Tello glanced up, confused. What the hell did that mean?
From the corner of his eye, he saw Cillian bolt upright, arms twitching like a marionette.
"Julia will kill me if I miss this..." he muttered, hands curling by his sides.
"I'm sorry, miss what?" Stephen asked, eyeing him and the strange young man still sitting at the table.
"The ballroom dance!" Cillian said, "It's the first part of the banquet!"
He turned to Tello. "Could you please wrap up your pitch a bit faster, young man?"
"I'm sorry," Stephen interrupted, rising from his seat. He grabbed Cillian by the elbow, gentle but firm. "Your wife's downstairs waiting for you. You really want to sit around and talk shop?"
"But—"
"You're not getting any younger," Stephen said, turning to the rest of the table. "Right, gentlemen?"
"You sure aren't!" Tello chimed in immediately, then realized maybe he should've let someone else say it first.
"The kid's got a point," said Vince, one of the investors, chuckling. "Didn't you almost miss your anniversary too? Go make it up to her, before we hear you lost your marriage."
"Go have some fun," Ralph agreed. "We'll finish the numbers here and join you soon."
Cillian clapped both hands together in thanks. Then, he stood, glanced toward the stairs, and visibly flinched.
His wife was already waiting at the top, staring daggers at him.
"I'll be right there, honey!" he called, hurrying off like a man headed to the gallows.
Tello watched as Stephen dragged his main issue away, and it had to be said. The amount of luck he had was something else, even if he had most of the things planned out, with his quick wit and judgment also helping. His luck was a very big factor, and hopefully it wouldn't run out anytime soon.
He glanced down at the ballroom below, where music had begun and Cillian was now shuffling into place.
Tello cleared his throat and returned to the table.
The hardest part was done.
Now it was his turn.
"So, as I was saying. Cillian already procured a twenty percent stake of our company profits, and in total we'd want to sell about sixty percent more to you fine gentlemen." Tello pitched.
"So only twenty percent would remain with you?" Ralph said, shaking his head slightly. "Doesn't that seem a bit too low? You wouldn't gain much from such a deal."
That was the truth. If they sold eighty percent of the brothel off, the money gained from the twenty percent they'd retain would go mostly to the upkeep and salary of the entire company. There would barely be anything coming into their own pockets.
It was definitely shaky.
Tello exhaled. "That's why it's more than just the brothel we're selling. The profits from the rooms go to you based on the percentage you own. But everything else, from private engagements outside, drink sales, specialty services... that's ours."
"I see..." Vince rubbed his jaw. "That makes more sense."
"What are your projected returns for the first month?" asked the third man, Gallagher. With a stern gaze, much tighter than the others.
"A little over one hundred and fifty thousand gold," Tello said. "Assuming thirty out of forty rooms are booked each day, excluding weekends. That's the baseline. Events and promotions could push it higher."
He said it evenly, like the number had come from a ledger, but it hadn't. He'd run those numbers in his head over and over on the way here, refining them down to something that sounded real enough to swallow.
"And upkeep?" Oswald chimed in. "Monthly expenses."
"About thirty thousand," Tello replied. "Twenty-five of that goes directly to the girls. Three for building maintenance... sweepers, linens, room upkeep, etcetera. The remaining two for restocking drinks, food, and whatever miscellaneous supplies we need."
"That seems solid enough," Oswald, the last man said, fingers tapping against the table. "It's higher than Verre's, which is more than enough in my books."
"Another thing to note is the location." Tello said. "We plan on building it in the plot next to the Love Supreme, as a statement that we're the better brothel."
"Stealing their customers from right in front of them." Gallagher said, then nodded. "I'd have to say I'm sold. That bitch has been on the top for too long."
"She's gotten her money." Vince muttered, "it's about time the rest of us eat."
"Alright. It's settled." Ralph said. "How much are you selling each fifteen percent?"
Tello didn't blink. "Twenty thousand gold."
And the room went quiet.
Underneath him however, it only got louder.
Classical music was being strummed by violists, pianos hidden in the corners of the rooms now unleashed and played by the finest of hands. The music was beautiful, and even Stephen, not quite the enjoyer of classical music. Couldn't help but feel it.
People danced all around him, their movements fluid and full of life, while he stood at the edge of the room, still and silent in the black Stargaze suit he'd been fitted in.
Maybe it was in his best interest to find a partner and dance too, if only to avoid standing out. But right now, Stephen didn't mind. His focus was entirely on Tello, who was upstairs delivering the pitch.
The plan was to join in partway through, reinforce Tello's words, and close the deal with some polish. But Cillian's presence had thrown things off. Tello was nervous, and in truth, he was too.
So when the bell rang, he jumped at the chance to escort Cillian out.
Now he stood at the edge of the ballroom, arms folded, watching people sway to somber music. Glancing up at the stairs again, he frowned.
Returning now might seem suspicious, maybe even more so than just loitering like this.
He scratched the back of his head, mildly stressed. His siblings hadn't shown up yet, so that was one blessing. If everything went well, he could slip out right after the deal closed.
That was the plan, at least. But it meant trusting Tello completely.
He can do this... right?
Stephen's foot tapped anxiously. Maybe he should go up. He could pretend he forgot something, then blend back into the conversation naturally.
Yeah. He'd do that. He'd help Tello—
"Why are you all alone, pretty boy?"
The voice slid in from the front like silk.
He blinked, eyes meeting the same woman he'd seen earlier: red eyed, black haired, with twin buns and a devastating figure wrapped in grey.
"I was waiting for you," Stephen said quickly, pushing off the wall. "You?"
"I was waiting for some pretty boy to stop leaning on the wall trying to look cool and come ask me for a dance."
"Then I owe you an apology." He bowed and extended a hand. "May I offer one in another form?"
"Yes, you may." She took his hand, and just like that, she pulled him into the flow of dancers.
Stephen let himself get drawn in, and for a moment, the pressure slipped away. Tello, the investors, the money, the system... all fading beneath the sway of her hips and the strum of a violin.
As they reached the center of the ballroom, his head ached, a sound screaming at him. Inaudible, but there.
Then, a system notification blinked across his vision.
[Notification: Host has been seduced]
Meanwhile, Tello's heart hammered in his chest.
He'd just finished his pitch, but the table had gone quiet. Too quiet.
Was it too much? Did I say something wrong? Did I oversell it? That was all he could think about, and once again why he wanted Stephen next to him.
Word's weren't Tello's strength, pencils were and maybe numbers, Stephen was the one supposed to handle the talks. He bit down on his anxiety and kept his hands folded tight.
Then a voice broke the silence.
"Can I ask one question?"
Tello turned. The one who'd spoken wasn't part of the original group.
"I'm sorry," Tello said. "Who exactly are you?"
"Hara Appleton," the man replied, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor below. "My dad's dancing down there right about... now."
"...A member of the Appletons," Tello nodded. "Alright. What do you want to ask?"
Hara leaned back in his chair, eyes piercing through him. "Why are you trying to scam these guys?"
Tello froze.
"...Huh?"